Hound by Vincent McCaffrey review

A bookhound, Henry Sullivan buys and sells books he finds at estate auctions and library sales around Boston and often from the relatives of the recently deceased. He’s in his late thirties, single, and comfortably set in his ways. But when a woman from his past, Morgan Johnson, calls to ask him to look at her late husband’s books, he is drawn into the dark machinations of a family whose mixed loyalties and secret history will have fatal results.

The person who doesn’t like to read and, perhaps most importantly, doesn’t appreciate books doesn’t exist in McCaffrey’s world–or should I say, Sullivan’s world. Everyone, and I mean everyone, loves and appreciates books. I think if a character ambled onto the page with a Kindle then the others would beat him with it. While this is an ideal for some, it does mark the book as kind of a fantasy. As much as I enjoyed all of the various discussions about books, I began to wonder if these characters liked anything else.

And in the guise of the main character, Henry Sullivan, this idea of liking anything else other than books becomes something that underlies the story. Reading is one of the great pleasures in life, those of us who are readers know this, but there is a flip side. Because reading is such a solitary act it becomes an exclusionary one too, leaving others cut out. If we look at the character Leona, and more importantly the reasons that Henry left her all those years ago and just how empty and non-existent they are, we see a vibrant, funny, great woman. Her very being exists as a question to the reader, “what life did Henry miss out on with Leona by staying buried in his books?” It’s an important question that never really gets answered.

We are told that “Death was, after all, the way Henry made his living,” and this one line summarizes Henry in many ways, because he is kind of the walking dead in that he represents a pre-gentrified Boston and someone who has lived a monk’s life.

Henry’s friend Peter is the flip side of this idea and of Henry. He pursued a path different then Henry’s because he’s integrated his love of books with the woman he loves, as illustrated by the vacation anecdote. By cutting back on one, he was able to have both books and love with another person. Henry has no room in his heart to love others because his one true love is books. This doesn’t make Henry a bad man, just a bit of a sad man.

If the book has a fault it’s that it doesn’t explore this disconnect. Hell, it doesn’t even recognize that the disconnect is there, as this line shows us:  ”It was only now, so many years later, that he asked himself why he did not fear life instead?” because Henry does fear life.

Hound is supposed to be the first book in a series. All I can say is that it doesn’t feel like one, but it should be interesting to see what long-term arc the character takes.

One of the simple pleasures of Hound is watching as the echoes of themes flit across sub-plots and characters. I liked this book a lot and would recommend it. Its rich portrayal of Boston’s literary history and its myriad of interesting sub-plots are interesting and enjoyable. If you are looking for a slow walk in the woods rather then a barn burner, then Hound could be the right story for you.