Police officer Michaela "Mickey" Fitzpatrick is well-acquainted with the toll opioid addiction takes on not just its victims but also on their families and communities.  Abandoned by their junkie parents, she and her sister, Kacey, were left to be raised by their cruel, resentful grandmother.  Now 33, Mickey works a high crime beat in Kensington, one of the worst neighborhoods in Philadelphia.  Not only is she on the lookout for dangerous behavior, but she keeps her eyes constantly peeled for Kacey.  An addict who pays for her habit by turning tricks, Kacey no longer keeps in touch with her sister.  Which doesn't stop Mickey from worrying about her every day.

Mickey's used to not seeing her sister for weeks on end, but when a spate of murders are committed against street women in Kensington and Kacey is nowhere to be found, Mickey starts to fear the worst.  Mickey's frantic search for both the killer and her sister becomes a dangerous obsession that puts her right in the path of a vicious murderer.  No matter the cost, Mickey refuses to back down.  She knows all too well how dispensable street junkies are—she won't let her sister and others like her slip through the cracks.  Even if it means risking everything to save Kacey.

As you can imagine, Long Bright River by Liz Moore is not an easy read.  Not at all.  It's raw and disturbing, heartbreaking and gut-wrenching.  It's also important and impactful.  Moore has spent a lot of time in Kensington and it shows.  The story rings with authenticity.  While it tells a difficult tale, the novel is a heartfelt one, woven through with sensitivity and sympathy.  Anyone who's dealt with a family member in the throes of addiction will identify with Mickey's plight.  Told in chapters alternating between the past and present, Long Bright River is not just a gripping thriller, but also an engrossing family drama, which gives the story a layered depth that makes it more than just a murder mystery.  Relevant and riveting, it's a hard but unforgettable read.

(Readalikes:  Reminds me of Before I Let You Go by Kelly Rimmer, Heroine by Mindy McGinnis, and the Bell Elkins series by Julia Keller)

To the FTC, with love:  Another library fine find

Meredith Parker's twins have been away at college for four years, but she's still getting used to the idea of having an empty nest.  Their upcoming graduation has her feeling especially unmoored.  It doesn't help that their graduation celebration will involve spending extended time with her ex-husband and his very young fiancée.  While Meredith and her husband, Roger, vow to be on their best behavior and make the most of their weekend away, no one can guarantee that sparks won't fly.  Especially when each member of the family is harboring their own secrets ... 

If the plot for Best Behavior by Wendy Francis seems a little thin, that's because it is.  The novel is more episodic than structured, something I usually dislike because it creates stories that are unfocused, meandering, and often boring.  Not so with Best Behavior.  There's enough drama going on that the tale never gets dull.  The characters are well-drawn, each with realistic flaws and insecurities.  I might not have liked all of them, but I could relate to each on some level.  Overall, I enjoyed the novel although I can't say I loved it.  

A funny:  I did get a good laugh out of the fact that the twins' graduation supposedly takes place in Spring 2020—and it proceeds as normal with an in-person ceremony, no face masks, no social distancing, and not one mention of COVID-19.  Since I read an e-ARC of the book, it's possible the year was changed in the final printing of the book. 

(Readalikes:  Hm, no specific titles are coming to mind.  You?)

To the FTC, with love:  I received an e-ARC of Best Behavior from the generous folks at HarperCollins in exchange for an honest review.  Thank you!

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Although she's awkward in most aspects of her life, there's one place where Mickey Catalan feels perfectly in control—on the softball field.  There, she's seen as a beast, a gifted athlete with enough talent to not just help win an upcoming high school tournament, but also to get recruited for a college team.  Between Carolina Galarza, the team's equally skilled pitcher and Mickey's best friend, their team can't be beaten. 

Then, the girls are in a car accident that severely injures them both.  Carolina's pitching arm is broken and Mickey, who was driving, has a fractured leg and a screwed-on hip.  If the two don't recover—and fast—their team will be in big trouble.  Despite her determination to rehabilitate her body as quickly as possible, Mickey struggles with guilt, lack of energy, and brutal pain.  The OxyContin she's given to manage the pain masks the hurt while giving her an extra boost that makes her feel loose and confident, so much so that she can't stop taking it, even after her prescription runs out.  Desperate for her next hit, Mickey—who's always been a good girl—is suddenly lying, stealing, and letting down her teammates.  Eventually, her new group of young addict friends turns her on to heroin, an even higher high.  It's only when tragedy occurs that Mickey realizes her drug addiction could cost her everything—and everyone—she cares about.  Can she stop herself before she destroys her whole world?

If you ask people what a junkie looks like, chances are good they're not going to describe the fresh-faced girl next door, the stressed-out housewife who lives down the street, or their boss with his high-end job and fancy car.  The thing with opioid addiction is that it's changing the face of what an addict looks like, a point aptly addressed in Heroine by Mindy McGinnis.  Mickey's softball star status might make her a bit extraordinary, but she's still an average, middle-class Jane whose opioid dependency starts as it does for many people—with a legitimate prescription.  The book traces her downward spiral, a trajectory that's familiar to anyone who's experienced drug addiction or watched someone else go through it.  McGinnis starts the novel with a warning about graphic depictions of drug use and indeed the story has many.  For that and other reasons, it's a difficult read.  A necessary cautionary tale, but not a pleasurable one.  In addition, the characters are not easy to like.  Edith is a particularly slimy one, but Mickey's not the most sympathetic one either.  The ending of the novel is hopeful, but I don't feel that Mickey loses quite enough to really understand the consequences of her actions.  In the end, I can't say I liked Heroine.  For me, it was just too difficult and disturbing, so much so that I had to force myself to keep reading.  I do, however, feel that it's a powerful, timely novel that is well-crafted and tightly-written.  The story offers a real, eye-opening, hard-hitting picture of the effects drug abuse can have on an individual, a family, and a community, without glamorizing any of it.  For these reasons, I feel that it's an important read with the power to keep kids from taking even the first step toward drug addiction.  If it saves just one life, then it's worth the difficult, disturbing read.

(Readalikes:  Reminds me of the Crank trilogy (Crank, Glass, and Fallout) by Ellen Hopkins and Invisible as Air by Zoe Fishman)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for language, graphic depictions of illegal drug use and prescription drug abuse, innuendo/rude humor, and disturbing subject matter

To the FTC, with love:  I received a finished copy of Heroine from the generous folks at HarperCollins for the purpose of Cybils Award judging.  Thank you!

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Still grieving the loss of her stillborn daughter, 46-year-old Sylvie Snow keeps her sadness at bay by staying busy.  Very busy.  She scurries around making meals, cleaning messes, chauffeuring her son to and fro, working full-time, and lately, playing nursemaid to her needy husband as he recovers from a broken ankle he sustained while on a rigorous bike ride he never should have attempted.  Add to her already overloaded schedule the planning of her son's upcoming bar mitzvah—the one he cares zilch about—and she's about ready to explode.  When the three-year anniversary of her daughter's death dawns, Sylvie realizes she just can't handle another day of her frenzied life.  Not without some help.

Paul Snow refuses to take the Hydrocodone his doctor prescribed for his ankle.  Sylvie's in pain, too, so she decides to pop one of his pills, just to see.  The results are almost instant.  Her sadness blurs a little; she feels kinder, more patient, calmer.  Amazing!  Before she realizes it, Sylvie has become a bona fide junkie, willing to do anything—risk everything—for another hit.  The more desperate she gets, however, the more her life really starts to fall apart.  Soon, the truth will out and Sylvie must face some startling truths about herself before she loses everything that means anything to her.

With opioid abuse constantly in the news, Invisible As Air by Zoe Fishman, is a timely, affecting novel about the holes in our hearts and the alarming ways in which we sometimes try to fill them.  Sylvie is a relatable Everywoman whose utter normality makes a hard-hitting statement about just what a junkie looks like these days.  With his own "harmless" coping mechanism wreaking havoc on the family, Paul's is an additional cautionary tale about the destructive nature of burying feelings, hiding pain, and seeking help in all the wrong ways and places.  Stuck in the middle, Teddy represents all the innocents damaged by people trying to get by instead of getting real.  As you can tell, Invisible As Air is not a happy read.  It's heartbreaking, eye-opening, and depressing.  Compelling and ultimately hopeful, yes, but also not the most uplifting or mood-boosting read in the world.  

(Readalikes:  Reminds me of Heroine by Mindy McGinnis)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for language, sexual content, and depictions of prescription drug abuse

To the FTC, with love:  I received an ARC of Invisible As Air from the generous folks at HarperCollins in exchange for an honest review.  Thank you!