The Force

By Don Winslow

Denny Malone is the alpha of "Da Force," the undisputed king of the kingdom of Manhattan North -- or is he? The Feds turned over his dirty side and now they are squeezing him tight. He's just a pawn in their hands -- or is he? 

Lee Child said Don Winslow's The Force is "probably the best cop novel ever." Stephen King calls it, "mesmerizing, a triumph." That may be all the recommendation you need. Reader beware. The characters are not pretty. The dialog is gritty. But this story feels real. You walk the streets. Feel its life -- from a cop's perspective. The Force moves and it carries you with it. 

Winslow knows how to put you in Malone's shoes, even deeper into Malone's thoughts. And he will coax thoughtful reflection from you through his narrative:

About Denny Malone, the dirty cop "Malone didn’t start out to end up here.… No, he started with his eyes firmly on the guiding star, his feet planted on the path, but that’s the thing about the life you walk –- you start out pointed true north, but you very one degree off, it doesn’t matter for maybe one year, five years, but as the year stack up you’re just walking farther and farther away from where you started out to go, you don’t even know you’re lost until you’re so far from your original destination you can’t even see it anymore.… But here Malone is. 5

About cops on The Force: "The cops feel for the vics and hate the perps, but they can't feel too much or they can't do their jobs and they can't hate too much or they'll become the perps. So they develop a shell, a 'we hate everybody' attitude force field around themselves that everyone can feel from ten feet away. You gotta have it, Malone knows, or this job kills you, physically or psychologically. Or both." 32

About the seeming futility of gun laws: "New York City has the strictest gun laws in the country but that doesn’t make any difference because all the guns come to and from the outside, up the 'Iron Pipeline.' Dealers make straw purchases in states with weak gun laws – Texas, Arizona, Alabama, the Carolinas – and then bring them up I–95 to the cities of the Northeast in New England. To date, at least four New York cops have been killed with guns that came up the iron pipeline. Not to mention the corner boys in the bystanders." 46

About New York: "The poets, the artists, the dreamers.… It’s what he loves about New York – you want it, it’s there. The sweet kind, fetid richness of the city. He never really got it until he left his Irish–Italian blue-collar, cop–fireman Staten Island ghetto and moved to the city. You hear five languages walking a single street, smell six cultures, hear seven kinds of music, see a hundred kinds of people, a thousand stories and it’s all New York. New York’s the world. Malone's world, anyway. He'll never leave it. No reason to." 102

About New Yorkers: "An early spring has come to the city lie a gift. Snow has turned to slush, water runs in the gutters like little brooks. A trace of sunshine promises warmth. New York is coming out of winter. Not that it ever hibernated; the city had just pulled its collar up and put its head down against the winds that whipped through its canyons, freezing faces and numbing lips. New Yorkers push through winter like soldiers through gunfire. Now the city uncovers itself. And Da Force gets ready to hit the Nickel." 157

About the slow slide to being a crooked cop: How did you get here? Like anyplace else. A step at a time. Thought it was a joke when they warned you at the Academy about the slippery slope. A cup of coffee, a sandwich, it leads to other things. No, you thought, a cup of coffee was a cup of coffee and a sandwich was a sandwich. The deli owners were grateful for your service, appreciative of your presence. What was the harm? . . . . But a line was crossed." 349, 408

About memories and love: Malone drives past Hamilton Fruits and Vegetables, the Big Brother Barbershop, the Apollo Pharmacy, Trinity Church Cemetery and the mural of a raven on 155th. Past the Church of the Intercession – but it’s too late for intercession, Malone thinks – past the Wahi Diner and all the small gods of place, the personal shrines, the markers of his life on the streets that he loves like a husband loves a cheating wife, a father loves a wayward son." 469

There is so much more. Winslow helps us to see the racial tension between cops and blacks when it comes to shootings -- and he does it from both angles (read 156-57; 307); playing fair with the DA's office (234); cops and reporters: "We deal with the violence, the crime, the suffering, the overdose, the bodies. We go to the morgues. We go tell the families. Not the New York Times." 290 Oh, and Malone drives a 1967 Chevy Camaro SS convertible, black with Z-28 stripes, a 427 engine with a four-speed. At some level, you've gotta gotta like the guy!

Winslow dedicates The Force to 178 law-enforcement personnel murdered in the line of duty during the year and a half he spent writing the book. This is real for him! It is good for us.