Review: Long Bright River

I'm sure Long Bright River by Liz Moore, has been reviewed up and down the Internet by now, but I haven't read any of them and to be honest, didn't even read the inside flap before settling in and starting. I was so excited by the Book of the Month club blurb back in December and the fact that I'm across the river from Philadelphia, hear about Kensington and the opioid crisis on NPR weekly, at least, and that I was kind of in the mood for a long, slow build after tearing through a bunch of lighter fare of late, I didn't need much more push.

It didn't disappoint. I consumed the book over a rainy weekend and into some late nights, which actually felt perfectly aligned with the plot and mood of the story. The book centers around Mickey, a Philadelphia police officer who works the Kensington neighborhood where opioid abuse and prostitution are rampant, and where her estranged sister, Kacey, is an addict and sex worker, living in "abandos" in disrepair. Mickey and Kacey grew up close, but with a challenging childhood, losing both parents to drug abuse, raised by a tough grandmother. There was a shortage of affection and an abundance of poverty. When a string of murders take place, disguised to look like overdoses, Mickey realizes it's been a while since she's seen her sister and begins to investigate on her own.

Moore constructs terrific characters here and their actions are all believable. We understand their motivations, can feel the tension between them, picture them clear as day. I enjoyed the balance between character development and the pace of the plot, and while the book is long, it didn't take much to feel committed. Even without really knowing Fishtown and Kensington, they were familiar, and the contrast between Alonzo's hot-plate coffee and Bomber Cafe -- beanies, cement, and fancy drnks abound -- and who spent time in each told us so much; they colored the Ave in a real and relatable way.

I'll be careful to avoid spoilers, so forgive vague language here, but what I may have liked best about the book was the imperfect ending. It wraps up with plenty of the questions that run throughout the story and without a conventional happy ending. New relationships are forged, yes, but others are tentative, and still others ruined completely. No one hits the jackpot, consequences are not perfectly served, and lives aren't turned around completely, at least in the heroic sense -- our main character is not sitting pretty, transformed, rich, or celebrated when we turn that last page. The heaviness with which the book begins remains, even with progress and redemption. Uncertainty reigns.