“I have you by the short hairs now, Passero. You’re a midlevel guy at best, a worker, an earner, somebody who maybe had the boss’s ear. You run book out of a bowling alley, and you’re an FBI informant and at least a part-time queer. Where’s that going? Sideways at the very best."
*****
Pity the poor middle manager, the person who's as responsible for those below him as to those above him, who often finds the space left for him too narrow on the spectrum to comfortably breathe. Nicky Fassero, known as Nicky Pins because he runs a bowling alley, is such a middle manager, only one for the Chicago Outfit, and severance packages in that line tend to not include things like COBRA , unemployment benefits and job placement assistance. GANGLAND is the story of how Nicky's tiny stripe of space in the mob-hierarchy spectrum gets smaller and smaller, squeezed as much from above as below as he tries to navigate the aftermath of an unauthorized jewlry heist.
It's 1976 when things begin, and much of the action takes place in 1978, but GANGLAND opens like gangbusters, with Nicky dispatching legendary Outfit boss Sam Giancana with a double tap — at the behest of real-life Chicago mobster Tony Accardo. All that's before Johnny Salita, a talented but hotheaded burglary artist, stages a jewelry heist of a connected business owner without the OK of Nicky or the higher-ups, and when Salita is forced to return what he stole but later steals it again — from Tony Accardo's house — Nicky is ordered to square things. In blood. But things go sideways, of course, and Nicky is sure Tony is going to have him killed — that is, if the FBI agent who knows Nicky's darkest secret doesn't leverage him first to take Tony down. The only thing that's certain? Tony's "strict no-fiasco policy" is getting violated, repeatedly, in every possible way.
It's an impossible fix that Nicky is in, but he's determined to find a way through, and the reader will be with him every step of the way. They may not love Nicky, who doesn't pretend to be likable, but anybody who's been in a bad jam between opposing forces will be able to relate.
All this is told without an ounce of fat by one of the most muscular voices in crime fiction. The prose here isn't showy, but it is sleek without being slick, and you won't find an ounce of pretension in its vividly rendered characters and settings. That said, there's plenty of quotable lines here, and Chuck Hogan is particularly on point when it comes to depicting 1970s life and style, a particular value-add for this dedicated Seventiesologist:
"Momentarily clearheaded, Nicky realized how f***ed up he was right now. He had been chauffeuring around a murder weapon while barking Linda Ronstadt out his open windows. His recklessness chilled him."
"Nicky had a couple of things in his cart so that he blended in with the frenzy. A Six Million Dollar Man action figure with Bionic Grip, a Slime Monster Game with an extra plastic garbage can of green Slime, Mattel Electronics Football, a Kojak board game, an official Mark 'the Bird' Fidrych glove. But this Child World in Forest Park was the absolute last place he wanted to be the week before Christmas."
"Gerald Roy wore an apricot sports jacket with tiger-orange oval elbow patches over a bee-yellow shirt with a flared collar, no necktie, and fawn-colored polyester pants."
"Over at Pong, you would think it was the finals at Wimbledon, Connors taking on Björn Borg. Kids stacked their quarters on the game panel to hold a spot in line for the next game."
"One kid flailed away at the Elton John pinball game, probably because he had already invested so much time and money in getting good at it. But nobody was watching him. That wasn’t where the action was anymore."
"Pinball is black-and-white television to these kids. It’s the stagecoach. The plunger launch, clang-clang, flipper-flipper, bad ricochet, game over. That’s their fathers’ game. Push-button stuff, video arcade cabinets, this is the hottest thing going."
"The Edge of Night was a late-afternoon television soap opera, also a crime series, and only a half hour long. There was a matriarch, as well as a whole thing with her family and multiple untimely deaths, and vendettas and affairs and endless amnesia cases, but there was the cop story too, set in the fictional city of Monticello. It was jarring to see stories about drug shipments and gangsters and district attorneys on television at four in the afternoon, when that primary audience was mothers cleaning up the house around their children after school. It was difficult to know who this show was aimed at, aside from Nicky Pins."
"Farther down the bar, Nicky viewed a sight that brought out his first smile of the night. Connected guys and the usual wannabes gathered in a tight circle, outnumbered by the new generation—but, as Nicky saw, even they were sporting gold medallion chains all of a sudden, wearing open shirts, flared slacks. The disco craze was spreading like a virus. You had to respect it."
Epic in scope and stakes but intimate in detail and portraiture, GANGLAND is a read as substantive as it is smooth. It's propulsive without ever seeming to pander, commercial without ever reaching for cliché, briskly stylish without a breath of self-consciousness. It is one of the best crime novels I've read in 2022 — or any year — and should be a strong contender for a passel of thriller-genre awards and a prestige screen production.