Citizen Sidel

LA Times Book Review

Charyn tells his stories in a style that has touches of magic realism, bursts of pulp lyricism, and a level of imagination and energy as high as anything written today.

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly

In contrast to the bleak and poignant atmosphere of his most recent Isaac Sidel book, 1997's El Bronx, Charyn offers knockabout farce in this latest adventure of the gun-toting New York mayor. It may take readers a few pages to get into the surprising mood, but by the third or fourth time Sidel gets knocked on his keister they'll will be ready for anything--even a vision of Sidel tucking his ever-present Glock into a pair of orange pants in order to impersonate an Isaac Babel character named Benya Krik. The novel is full of smart jokes: a luxurious nursing home is called Riverrun and a trained rat is named Raskolnikov. Mayor Sidel has been chosen as the vice-presidential candidate by the Democrats, to add muscle to the ticket headed by J. Michael Storm, baseball czar and former student radical. Up against Isaac and Storm are ruthless Republicans, crooked cops and corrupt FBI agents, deadly Bronx gangsters, kamikaze assassins and an 85-year-old Romanian once known as the Butcher of Bucharest. " `A period in the right place is like a hammer in the heart.' That's what Babel said," a literature teacher tells Sidel. Charyn proves once again--with energy, imagination and perfect periods galore--that he knows how to swing a hammer like nobody's business. (Feb.)

Library Journal

New York City mayor Isaac Sidel returns in this tenth installment in Charyn's quirky crime series (after El Bronx, LJ 2/1/97). This time around, the gun-toting former police commissioner is running for vice president of the United States--that is, when the "Big Guy" is not being sidetracked by his investigation of a corrupt police department and the possible murder of a cop by the man's own father. Toss in the precocious daughter of Sidel's running mate, the irresistible double agent Margaret Tolstoy, and a trained rat called Raskolnikov, and you have a surreal romp through a bizarre yet recognizable New York. Charyn has a light, readable style and manages to make the strangest things almost plausible. Recommended for public libraries with Charyn fans. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 9/1/98.]--Laurel Bliss, New Haven, CT

LA Times Book Review

Charyn tells his stories in a style that has touches of magic realism, bursts of pulp lyricism, and a level of imagination and energy as high as anything written today.

Kirkus Reviews

Call him Isaac. Or Sindbad the Sailor. Or The Big Guy. Or even The Pink Commish. He answers to all of these and more, depending on time, place, and mood, as he goes careening through Charyn's never-never land transmogrified from New York City. In this, Isaac's tenth adventure (El Bronx), the most beloved mayor in Gotham history is about to widen his net-reluctantly. He's yielded to the blandishments of the Democratic Party bigwigs who've told him he's needed to rescue the scandal-ridden ticket led by J. Michael Storm. But not everybody adores Isaac. Storm's wife doesn't. The FBI doesn't. A couple of highly placed lowlife cops don't; and the list goes on. So from time to time, gun-toting Isaac gets disarmed, disabled, and just about discontinued. Among his assailants is-lamentably-Margaret Tolstoy, she to whom Isaac has given his heart. But Margaret is also the most renowned double agent in espionage history, and a girl's got to do what a girl's paid to do. At length, the stage is set for the climactic TV debate: J. Michael versus the incumbent. Consequences transcend the political, a fact that Isaac discovers when he has to fend off a particularly vicious attack. He's aided this time by a pet rodent named Raskolnikov, who distracts the attacker by biting off half his nose. If any of this sounds bizarre, it's because you haven't yet been conditioned, which is to say you haven't tripped with Charyn. As usual, unflagging energy on the part of the writer. Halfway through, though, readers might plead for mercy.