Character is action: the oldest law of writing.
It goes back to Aristotle. Plot is just a vehicle in which you see them act.
- Dennis Lehane, in an interview with Linda Richards,
January Magazine, March, 2001
It makes perfect sense, no? We're wired to be
intrigued by people. And what does art do but work within the
wiring? You'll notice that I did, indeed, say "art" there. I'll be
getting into the relationship, if there is one, between art and genre
shortly.
I probably like Dennis Lehane so much because I didn't
start with his Kenzie/Gennaro books. I'm glad I didn't. You shouldn't
either; they were his first novels, and more important, they're a
series. Before you start defending series: I know. Peter Straub
and his novelist, Stephen King and his gunslinger, both critically
and commercially successful. Call it a quirk of mine. But Lehane in
particular is at his best when he's putting together a story out of
whole cloth, getting to know his characters just as you are. And as
he says, character is where it's at. Start with Mystic River. Start with Shutter Island. Especially start with The Given Day, so your first impression of him isn't as a genre writer.
I read Mystic River for the first time in the
Spring of 2004. Lehane says that project left him feeling drained; I
believe him. The pace he kept up? The energy in his prose? When he
gets going on a novel, really gets going on it, he puts in twelve, fourteen hours a day. That's unbelievable to me, especially with this book. Mystic River is
Heavy. Capital H. It's one of the moodiest, most heartbreaking things
you'll ever read. Each time I read it I have to stop after about fifty
pages because, damn, I'm drained. Lehane doesn't tug at your
heartstrings; he shows you someone else's broken ones. He shows you
what it looks like when people struggle. And people are so, so small.
He knows his people inside and out; most of all, he knows exactly what
it is that makes people these little things in the universe, their
little failures, and still he handles them respectfully.
It would help you to know that Lehane spent his first
winter in Boston. He grew up there. Ever
been to Boston in winter? Don't.
He was born in August 1965. Graduated from Eckerd. Wrote the first draft of his first novel, A Drink Before the War,
at age 25, in about three weeks. Do you know what that does to me? He
worked some blue-collar jobs. His last day job was as a driver; I
wonder if he ever misses that.
A Drink Before the War, which opened his
Kenzie/Gennaro series, pretty much doomed him to be a genre writer.
There's that word again: genre. He admits that there's a certain
amount of "ghettoization" (his word) that goes on with respect to genre
literature. You know what the critics said about The Given Day?
That it was "a step forward" for him. That he was "elevating"
himself. And they put that on the cover! How backhanded can you
get? I can see your response to that, what I just said. Maybe you're
backing off a little. Thinking, this guy's way too into his
Lehane. Probably got a shrine dedicated to him, camps out at the mall before a
book signing in a wolf shirt and sweatpants. I'm okay with that.
Because here's the thing: fuck genre.
We're going to perform a little exercise. Find yourself a copy of The New Yorker
at Barnes & Noble. Carry that shit around the store with the
cover facing out, let people take in the sight of you: you are
sophisticated. Right? No slight against The New Yorker, but,
you know, there are certain associations. Which is exactly what I'm
getting at. Now. Find a copy of Lehane's short "Until Gwen." You
can check The Atlantic Monthly, or his Coronado: Stories, or, most easily, Best American Short Stories 2005.
If my friends across the ocean and in other parts of my continent are
unable to perform this exercise satisfactorily, they have my regrets.
Now. Read one of the New Yorker stories. Take
in all that exposition. Savor that epiphany. Sit back, perhaps
with a glass of wine, and think on what you've just experienced. You
are a connoisseur of the human condition! Now read Gwen.
It's Lehane, so there's crime. The McGuffin is a stolen diamond.
Take in that dialogue - he's famous for it. Savor that ending, which
isn't really a surprise because it's the only thing that makes sense; still sneaks up on you though, no? But wait a minute. It's written
in the second person. That's weird. Why is that? And what would
you do, anyway - better yet, what would happen to you - if you
lived your life without human connections and someone came along and
saved you from that for a
little while? But wait! You're not supposed to be thinking! This is
genre writing! They have a word for that sort of thing nowadays. They
call it "literate," because it apparently has elements of literature.
Real literature! Gold star for you! You're almost a real writer!
Baby steps, now. Baby steps. Next step is to get that taint off
you, son. Hunker down.
You know what I say? Fuck that. Fuck genre. Dennis Lehane has got this. He's writing about people doing things and experiencing consequences. He's telling stories. That's what Shakespeare did. And Chaucer. Funny, that.
Here's an updated bibliography for him. He's also done
a fair bit of work in television and film. Like I said, stay away from the
Kenzie/Gennaro stuff until you're a fan. Don't want that genre taint
on you.
Books:
A Drink Before the War (1994)
Darkness, Take my Hand (1996)
Sacred (1997)
Gone, Baby, Gone (1998)
Prayers for Rain (1999)
Mystic River (2001)
Shutter Island (2003)
Coronado: Stories (2006)
The Given Day (2008)
Other:
Neighborhoods, Film; writer/director (1996)
The Wire, Television; writer/actor (2002)
Mystic River (2003), Gone, Baby, Gone (2007) and most recently Shutter Island (2010) have been adapted for film.