Long Bright River a Chilling Read

Long Bright River (2020)

By Liz Moore

Riverhead Books, 496 pages

★★★

 

Liz Moore’s Long Bright River is a dark crime novel/thriller/family saga that immerses us in a seedy world in which opioids, prostitution, police graft, urban despair, and murder collide. Moore intends her title as a riff on the Greek legend of the River Styx, which divides Hades from the living world. In her case, she muses upon a “long bright river of departed souls” and how long it would take those who have died of opioids or are in the process of killing themselves to make the long journey between the two realms. It opens and ends with a litany of the dead and almost-dead, and follows with a great line to draw us into the novel: “The first time I found my sister dead, she was sixteen.” Well… not quite.

 

The central character, Michaela “Mickey” Fitzpatrick, is both our narrator and a person who straddles the line between heroine and deeply flawed human being. She is 32-years-old and has been a Philadelphia cop since she was 20. Her beat is Kensington Avenue, which is dire enough to be Hades and make you think the Delaware River is a synonym for the River Styx. Mickey grew up nearby, where she and her sister Kacey were raised by their maternal grandmother “Gee” after their mother OD’d and their father disappeared.  Mickey was just a toddler and Kacey still an infant. Gee’s home was one in which necessities were barely covered and affection and encouragement were not viewed as among them. Mickey’s salvation (of sorts) came via Simon, a cop who ran youth programs and convinced her to enter the police force rather than follow in the footsteps of a beloved history teacher. (Reasons are explained in the book.) Kacey’s path was quite different; first teen rebellion, then life on the street as a druggie and hooker along Kensington Avenue.

 

The phrase “life is cheap” is too mild to describe Kensington Avenue. It is marked by abandoned factories, boarded homes, seedy shops, trash-strewn streets, and flophouses–all of which double as injection sites, assignation points, and temporary housing. And, in Moore’s novel, it’s also where a serial killer has been dispatching hookers to Hades. Mickey and Kacey have had a problematic relationship for years, but Mickey certainly doesn’t want her sister to end up in the morgue. Her heart is in her throat each time a new victim is found, but she’s just a beat officer and the single mom of 4-year-old Thomas. Her desire to investigate could get her fired, as it violates the orders of a direct superior who dislikes her, and transgresses the turf of detectives, which she’s not. Not that any of them seem to give a damn about Kensington Avenue street trash. Will Mickey go off on her own?

 

In such novels, of course she will! Mickey will confront old and new demons, call upon her old partner Truman for help, be drawn into the paternal O’Brien side of her family–a group that makes Gee seem warm and fuzzy–and open a can of worms in which the lines between law enforcement and lawlessness are blurred. No one is quite who he or she appears in this book, including Mickey, who often struggles with her identity and aspirations. All of this suggests that if life is cheap, honesty is on offer at a steep discount.

 

Liz Moore’s novel is set in 2002. She researched the book in 2009, and traveled with a photographer to document the area’s social problems. Everything comes off as so grim that I checked in with a friend who worked in Philly until last year; he assured me (if that’s the right phrase) that Kensington is a pretty awful place. A subsequent Google Images search suggests my buddy was engaging in understatement.

 

Long Bright River is a thrilling read, though not an uplifting one. As a novel, it is marred by some literary problems. Key among them is Mickey, who often seems neither savvy, bright, nor likeable. In a thriller we need a character to open Pandora’s box, but, frankly, Mickey comes off as too immature to be either cop or caregiver. For someone who has been on the force for a dozen years, her emotional IQ and coping skills are those of someone who ought to be writing tickets for parking violations, not pounding a dangerous beat. I am aware that we are supposed to see Mickey’s emotional scars, but it’s hard to get past the idea that this gal needs serious therapy, not life-threatening challenges. I leave it Irish-American Roman Catholic readers to sort out whether Moore’s take on this culture is unique or warmed-over Dennis Lehane, though I suspect the latter.   

 

I give Long Bright River a qualified thumbs-up. I found its resolution both too pat yet unsettling, which I can’t really explain without delving into spoilers. Still, I zipped through the novel and was both edified and chilled by it. My major takeaway was to cross off Kensington from my list of places to visit the next time I’m in the City of Brotherly–but apparently not Sisterly–Love.

 

Rob Weir