Upon hearing his kind responses, I am reluctant to admit that the author of The Power of the Dog (2009), this man who researched and worked hard for years to create chapters like narrative punches – all narrated in the present tense, mode of superimposed and vibrant shots – the interweaving of drug trafficking from Sinaloa to a New York suburb, from the misery of the plantations to the kingdom of the tycoons, decides to hang up his gloves.
Nothing in his form or intonation – downplaying everything – denotes anything other than patience. He had it, and in a big way, to continue with The Cartel (RBA Award 2015) and then launch into a description of the mafia from coast to coast, from a family party at the house of the Italian boss in Providence to the infinite and insatiable Las Vegas , among other capitals. Perhaps – and he confirms this – his character Frankie Machianno (a gangster in a state of lethargy, unless his family is affected), in The Long Winter of Frankie Machine (2010), is very similar to this Danny, Jr. of Irish in conflict with Italian families in the port of Rhode Island in the late eighties (the landscape of Winslow’s childhood).
Just as he questioned drug traffickers, here he portrayed gangsters. “I know these people.” He refers to the real models for spaghetti Chris Palumbo or John Murphy. “Sometimes I’m at a sporting event and they sit next to me. And we talked. No problem”. It is also true that there was a former nun prosecutor, who he could not resist turning into a (stubborn, tremendous) character. And religiosity, he admits it, and possible redemption is the subject of these books. The way criminals, if they are not sociopaths (and there are a few of abhorrent cruelty here) try to do the right thing.
“The central question of crime fiction for me is how do you try to live decently in an indecent world?” It is notable how Winslow understands his character, including Frankie: “I grew up surrounded by dozens of Dannys. We went to the beach, to the bars and to the movies and all that. And guys like Frankie Machianno were the ones who bought us comics and ice cream when I was little. I have a place in my heart for the Frankies of the world. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I have it.”
There is a very important idea in these novels: “If you put a spoonful of dirt in a glass of water, the water will be dirty, but if you put it in an ocean, the dirt will be diluted until it disappears.” Winslow claims that Balzac already said it before him. Also Mario Puzo. The criminal origin of fortunes, such as that of the Kenndys during the years of alcohol prohibition, to give just one example. Money from the slave trade, which finances the construction of the Yale and Harvard buildings…“What were kings in medieval times, if not the most successful thugs?”
But this knowledge does not lead him, not even remotely, to skepticism. Not even pessimism, for which there is barely any room. “Let me say something old-fashioned: our feelings are not important.” He has been publishing a series of political videos for some time, and they are becoming increasingly harsh and narratively direct, as the elections in the United States approach. A few years ago, with the appearance of the first work of this trilogy (City on Fire, followed by City of Dreams and, now, City in Ruins), a journalist asked him why he devoted so much space to Donald Trump, after all a former president. His response could not have been louder or clearer: because the past is here. A few days ago, he became very angry with an Italian journalist who, in a television program, insisted on proving that Donald Trump and Joe Biden are the same thing. “He violated me. “I found it a ridiculous and frankly ignorant observation.” Winslow is charged with intensity, with intention, when he talks about politics.
He admits – and without emphasis, on the contrary – that he receives threats daily. From people on the right, “who have neither physical nor mental entity.” They don’t scare her, she says. He will continue with the videos of him. A form of fight against trash narrative, which he has expelled from each of its pages, gutting the relationships between money, drug traffickers, political and financial power, to the admiration of James Ellroy among other greats. “Now it is about choosing in the next elections between a man who is indecent and a decent one. Between someone who does not believe in democracy and another who does. “That’s what it’s about.”
Winslow would be a very, very documented politician. With the extraordinary of Danny Ryan; that careful way in which he builds a ruined hotel, or creates a new one, paying attention to every detail. Dedicated completely in every phase of the matter. “The details, it is the details that build progress. There are politicians who work as hard as Danny, and there should be more.” Isn’t Winslow giving up writing to enter politics? But the answer is no. A resounding no.
I insist: I can’t imagine it without writing, without researching, without taking notes. He hesitates before answering: he believes it is time to give way to talented young people, at the same time he has enormous gratitude for what his career has given him. “Let’s see… I think I will always write. What I don’t believe is that I will always publish. And there are things I want to investigate just for my own satisfaction. Just for the sheer joy.”
It refers to Native American history, also to African history. And suddenly, like in her novels where a criminal tries to be a good person, she just blurts out: “My favorite project now is studying the lives of women who were models for impressionist paintings.”
Series. “I see that you have looked confused.” I admit it. And he refers to those girls who look back from a painting by Renoir, Monet, Degas… people of flesh and blood: actresses, sex workers, others were painters, wives, friends… and as he has investigated has discovered more and more about them. “And I realized that their lives were very interesting.”