June
2002
Book Review: Revere Beach Boulevard
By Roland Merullo
Owl
Books/Henry Holt and Company
New York, N.Y.
$13 (paper)
Reviewed
by Mark M. Feffer
So,
imagine a city that has seen better days. Built alongside the water,
in the shadow of larger and more famous places, it once teemed with
immigrants pursuing a life brighter than what they'd left behind.
They recreated the bustle of their old world amidst the streets
and alleys of the new. The city mixed neighborhoods of grime with
swaths of glamour. There were friends who became lifelong companions,
chums who grew up to become policemen, or hustlers, or priests.
Walking through the shadows of the city, those who grew up there
still sense its old style. They talk about the way life used to
be before times got hard, about how the city has finally "turned
the corner."
Of
course, you think I'm talking about Trenton.
Actually,
I'm describing Revere, Massachusetts.
Built
hard on the Boston city line, Revere was once a city of immigrant
Italians, Jews, and other Eastern Europeans. It was famous for its
long, sandy beach and the boardwalk that glittered behind it. Allegedly,
the roller coaster - the Cyclone - played Taps as its cars
hurtled down from its peak. During Prohibition, gangsters drove
trucks onto the sand, dipped cases of whiskey into the surf, then
went on their way to sell it as "right off the boat."
Roland
Merullo's Revere Beach Boulevard is set in present-day Revere,
with all of the city's history woven into his plot like the accents
of a fabric. Part family tragedy, part crime drama, the book describes
events over the course of a week while Peter Imbesalacqua struggles
to meet the deadline of his neighborhood's loan shark. Peter, a
middle-aged real estate agent who struggles as much with residential
sales as he does with a gambling habit, is hampered by his last
vestiges of pride, his gambler's baseless sense of hope, and a swirl
of family secrets simmering to the surface even as his appointment
with Chelsea Eddie looms.
While
the book uses Peter's predicament as its center, he-and the rest
of the Imbesalacquas-have a number of issues to settle, from the
ancient discontent of his dying mother; to the anguish of his father
as he watches his wife slip away; to the secrets borne by his anchorwoman
sister and detective best friend.
There's
a lot going on in this book, but for the most part, Merullo constructs
his story in a logical, leisurely way. While I got lost occasionally,
it only took a paragraph or so to set me right. The book's stories
are told through the interchanging voices of the Imbesalacquas and
others who lurk in the shadows of Revere's old neighborhoods. This
approach takes a bit of getting used to, but just a bit, for the
variety of voices moves the story along. Merullo paints his pictures
with the guttural phrases of Vito Imbesalacqua, Peter's father;
the not-quite-confident-enough attitude of his famous sister; the
mournful reflections of the family's old friend and priest; and
even the hopeless observations of the hit man who has done years
of unspeakable work for the soulless Chelsea Eddie.
This
is the kind of book you pick up assuming one thing and put down
having learned another. In the hands of a less capable writer, it
would have been melodramatic or obvious, but Revere Beach Boulevard
is neither. Merullo's not a perfect writer - some of the book's
transitions are jarring, and sometimes a bit of melodrama does find
its way in - but more often than not he displays a keen eye for
the details of emotions from humor to horror, from fear to faith.
And
there's something about Revere, too, which makes me think of Trenton.
Merullo's story could easily take place amidst the warrens of Chambersburg.
Reading Revere Beach Boulevard, you just might discover a
sister city, a place you can wander through sometime if you happen
to be three hundred miles away, and want to feel a little bit of
home.
###
Mark
Feffer is a founding editor of the Trenton Writes Project. He is
writing a novel.
