“For Assistant U.S. Attorney McDonald and the Strike Force prosecutors Henry Hill was a bonanza. He was not a mob boss or even a noncommissioned officer in the mob, but he was an earner, the kind of sidewalk mechanic who knew something about everything. He could have written the handbook on street-level mob operations. Ever since the first day he walked into the Euclid Avenue Taxicab Company back in 1954, Henry had been fascinated by the world he had longed to join, and there was little he hadn’t learned and even less that he had forgotten.”
Part of me wishes that I had read this book, which directly inspired Goodfellas, without having seen or even having any knowledge of the movie. There’s so much about Goodfellas that seems outrageous and over-the-top and made up, so it was almost weird to learn that Henry Hill was a real person, and that everything he describes in his memoir actually happened. Having seen the movie created this weird mental disconnect where even though I knew I was reading a memoir, it still felt kind of like a novel. (It also doesn’t help that the narration in Goodfellas is practically lifted word-for-word from the text of Hill’s memoir, to the point where I hope he got a screenwriter’s credit for the movie)
So I would actually be more likely to recommend this to someone who’s never seen Goodfellas, who can appreciate the sheer outlandishness of this memoir. Henry Hill, in collaboration with Nicholas Pileggi, wrote this book after he’d been placed in witness protection after ratting out the other members of his New York mafia family – so at that point, he’d already burned all his bridges and had nobody left to protect and nothing much left to lose. This means that he shares everything in this memoir, detailing the murders, the robberies, the drugs, the affairs, the betrayals…it’s all here, and it’s all just on the safe side of completely unbelievable.
I call it a memoir, but the book is really Pileggi’s – he writes it as a straightforward nonfiction book, but thanks to extensive phone interviews he conducted while researching the book, there are long sections told in Hill’s own words as he details his rise and fall in the mob. Together, they make the perfect blend of writers: Pileggi’s background is crime journalism, so he knows how to interview his subject, do research, and present the facts in a way that’s informative and engaging. And Hill’s voice is clear and distinct (like I said, a lot of Henry Hill’s narration in the movie is just lifted straight from the book), and best of all, he’s able to articulate the appeal of the mob world while also acknowledging the ugly aspects of it. This isn’t The Godfather, which reinvented mafia thugs as sophisticated outlaws too smart to work within the confines of society. Wiseguy is Henry Hill showing us all the ugliness that comes with the glamour, because he knows that we came to see both.
“It wasn’t that Henry was a boss. And it had nothing to do with his lofty rank within a crime family or the easy viciousness with which hoods from Henry’s world are identified. Henry, in fact, was neither of high rank nor particularly vicious; he wasn’t even tough as far as the cops could determine. What distinguished Henry from most of the other wiseguys who were under surveillance was the fact that he seemed to have total access to all levels of the mob world.”
(Also, the reason I initially decided to read this book was because of this great fun fact that I came across: so while Nicholas Pileggi was doing research for Wiseguy, he was married to Nora Ephron. Ephron would sometimes call Henry Hill late at night and chat with him (because of course Hill was bored as hell in witness protection), and she eventually wrote My Blue Heaven, which was a comedy starring Steve Martin as a former mob boss who’d been placed in the witness protection program. I love this so much, because Martin Scorsese read Wiseguy and decided to make a movie about his rise in the mob world, while Nora Ephron spoke with Henry Hill and made a goofy comedy about a mob boss after the mob.)