I had I Heard You Pain Houses on hold from the library for a long time, so when I finally got it, I wasn’t sure how interested I’d be in the subject matter. A lot of times I’ll request a hold but my interest will drift away to other things by the time it arrives. But this book grabbed me immediately. Part of its appeal was certainly the writing, which is crisp and evocative without being ornate, but the biggest draw is its subject: Frank “The Irishman” Sheeran, mob fixer and killer of Jimmy Hoffa.
Sheeran has led what is inarguably an interesting life. Born poor to an abusive father who would pit in against older boys in fights for money, Sheeran’s upbringing was the very definnition fo hardscrabble. He joined the army and saw over 400 days of combat in Italy, a fact that Brandt notes is remarkably above average for an enlisted soldier, and may have worn away the guardrails that keep most people from engaging in the peculiar profession he found later in life.
Once he left the army, he bounced around on the fringes until finding himself in the orbit of organized crime, particularly that of kingpin Russell Bufalino. Russell becomes a surrogate father figure for Sheeran, protecting him during his missteps and cultivating in him a loyal and fearsome soldier. Frank’s admiration for Bufalino is matched only by his love for Jimmy Hoffa, president of the Teamster’s Union, which makes their final bloody moments together particularly tragic.
Much fo the book is told in first person, as Frank recounts his remarkable life in the form of an extended confession. Brandt intersperses additional detail throughout. The format is fluid and effective. At first I thought it might feel choppy, but Brandt knows when context is helpful and when Frank can tell it best.
Some of Frank’s accounts stretch the boundaries of credibility, and he has was Brandt himself admits a Forrest Gump-like tendency to find himself pulled into pivotal events. To hear Frank tell it, he drove a truckload of supplies to the Cuban expats who undertook the Bay of Pigs invasion, and delivered the rifle that ultimately wound up in Lee Harvey Oswald’s hands on November 22, 1963. I found some of this a little hard to swallow, and I dont’ doubt that frnak has coloured things to paint himself in the best possible light, but Brandt is a seasoned interrogator, and backs up some of the loftier claims with meticulous research and independent verification. The result is a fascinating book about the fascinating life of a complex and deeply flawed man. Worth reading.
