In a scene near the end of Ron Currie’s marvelous new novel, The Savage, Noble Death of Babs Dionne, 60-something Babs looks at her adopted sister, Rita, as a wildfire approaches her home and says, “There goes the neighborhood.” The line is a testament to the ferocious dark humor that infuses this book and characterizes Babs herself, the matriarch of a Franco American crime family in Waterville, Maine. As Currie notes about her turf, “You would’ve said Little Canada had seen better days, except it never really had. . . . Poor was poor and remained so, and the rest was just calendar dates and details.”
But oh, those details! While the action transpires over the course of eight days in 2016, a prelude recounts a seminal event for 14-year-old Babs in 1968 that explains her spirit as well as her rage against the assaults and repression that Franco American families like hers have experienced for centuries.
By 2016, Babs is mixing with Colby College trustees, trying to raise money for a “French Immersion School [that] will teach Little Canada’s children not just writing and arithmetic, but also who they are and why their community matters.” She’s got loads more on her plate, like controlling the flow of drugs into the area—with the help of the local police chief—and worrying about her two daughters, who help manage the family “business” while also dealing with their individual substance abuse disorders. Lori is as tough as her mother, but since serving in Afghanistan as a Marine, she has PTSD and sees ghosts. Sis, meanwhile, is missing and will soon be dead, Currie warns readers early on.
Why ‘The Savage, Noble Death of Babs Dionne’ could only have been set in Ron Currie’s home state.
As Babs and Lori desperately try to track down Sis, they deal with Sis’ drunken, abusive husband while trying to protect her 11-year-old son, Jason. In the meantime, an extremely violent but equally calm character suddenly appears, announcing that his Canadian boss is about to take over Babs’ drug business. This messenger, known only as “The Man,” is a dangerous, crafty foe—reminiscent of Gustavo Fring, Breaking Bad’s drug kingpin.
Currie’s passionate prose is so sharp it practically jumps off the page, igniting plenty of page-turning action. Babs doesn’t hesitate, for instance, to tell off a snooty Colby trustee who makes disparaging comments about her heritage: “Whatever sins go along with being white, don’t pin them on me—I’ve been running from white people my whole life, like most everyone else on the planet.” Currie emphasizes that structural discrimination of the sort faced by Franco American communities is very much part of the American story, setting events around Fourth of July celebrations.
The Savage, Noble Death of Babs Dionne is full of on-point social commentary, violence, savvy sleuthing, poignant characterizations—and loads of love and humor. With a top-notch blend of gritty mystery and bighearted drama, it’s Dennis Lehane meets Ann Patchett. Luckily for readers, it’s the first of a trilogy about this memorable clan.
