The master of the new noir, Dennis Lehane magnificently evokes the dignity and savagery of working-class Boston in this terrifying tale of darkness and redemption.
Patrick Kenzie and Angela Gennaro's latest client is a prominent Boston psychiatrist running scared from a vengeful Irish mob. The private investigators know something about cold-blooded retribution. Born and bred on the mean streets of blue-collar Dorchester, they've seen the darkness that lives in the hearts of the unfortunate. But an evil for which even they are unprepared is about to strike as secrets long-dormant erupt, setting off a chain of violent murders that will stain everything—including the truth.
Showing 1-4 of the 4 most recent reviews
1 . Very good read
Posted October 04, 2010 by Chris , AtlantaThis is a very good book. While the end was a little predictable it was a very difficult book to put down. I have recently discovered Lahane, but I find that the characters are extremely compelling and I enjoy his writing style.
2 . good read
Posted April 08, 2010 by MARIAN , CLARKSVILLE, TNnot as good as some of his other work, but still a lively read, good characters and fun twists.
3 . slow starting
Posted March 05, 2010 by Tracy , KenoshaTook awhile to get into the story. About 1/4 of the way through it got good!
4 . Lehane does it again
Posted November 02, 2009 by P. Ryan , Upstate NYAnother excellent Angie Gennaro/Patrick Kenzie mystery set in Boston.
July 01, 1997
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Excerpt from Darkness, Take My Hand by Dennis Lehane
Angie and I were up in our belfry office trying to fix the air conditioner when Eric Gault called.
Usually in the middle of a New England October, a broken air conditioner wouldn't be a problem. A broken heater would. But it wasn't turning out to be a normal autumn. At two in the afternoon, the temperature hung in the mid-seventies and the window screens still carried the damp, baked odor of summer.
"Maybe we should call someone," Angie said.
I thumped the window unit on the side with my palm, turned it on again. Nothing.
"I bet it's the belt," I said.
"That's what you say when the car breaks down, too."
"Hmm." I glared at the air conditioner for about twenty seconds and it remained silent.
"Call it foul names," Angie said. "Maybe that'll help."
I turned my glare on her, got about as much reaction as I got from the air conditioner. Maybe I needed to work on my glare.
The phone rang and I picked it up, hoping the caller knew something about mechanics, but I got Eric Gault instead.
Eric taught criminology at Bryce University. We met when he was still teaching at U/Mass and I took a couple of his classes.
"You know anything about fixing air conditioners?"
"You try turning it on and off and then back on?" he said.
"And nothing happened?"
"Hit it a couple of times."
"Call a repairman then."
"You're a lot of help."
"Is your office still in a belfry, Patrick?"
"Well, I have a prospective client for you."
"I'd like her to hire you."