God, the Mafia, My Dad, and Me by Lori Lee Peters begins in the voice of a child, compelling not just for its narrative honestly, but for the fact that it might not be reliable. As the book opens, we learn that this narrator firmly believes she will be killed.
Readers can easily see through the childlike hyperbole, but that doesn’t detract from the intrigue. How did a kid come to such an extreme conclusion? Is there any seed of truth to it? These questions will hook readers from the start.
Author Peters set out to write a book about her dad. God, the Mafia, My Dad, and Me tells the true story of her father, and his fascinating work helping the FBI tackle Mafia activity in Lodi, California. Yet in the end, this is a memoir in which the compelling lead character – young Lori – overshadows her father in many ways.
We only see Lori’s father through Lori’s eyes, so he seems larger-than-life. Lori herself becomes the truly fascinating figure, especially as her life grows more complex with age. At first, the book holds little suspense, as young Lori unpacks the seemingly-straightforward details of her and her father’s life. Yet what seems to be an idyllic childhood starts to break down as the narrator reveals her complicated family dynamics and very real fears. Lori’s fear of God takes on a literal meaning, far beyond religion. In fact, it starts to tear apart her life.
Author Peters provides every detail with remarkable calmness, giving a window into the adult writing the story.
Yet the book maintains the voice of a child until near the end, which may leave readers wishing for more reflection from present-day Lori. Instead, we walk closely with young Lori through the twists and turns of a childhood plagued by fear. Her father’s challenges dealing with the Mafia undercover become more tangible, and in some ways, easier to face. They seem to pale in comparison to Lori’s nebulous personal troubles, especially since she’s so afraid to speak them out loud.
Peters includes moments from her father’s perspective, recreated from later research. These recreations feel less lively than other scenes, but ultimately, the book is more memoir than biography. Scenes increasingly focus on Lori’s life as time progresses, and readers will feel drawn in by the truthful way she relates her struggles.
God, the Mafia, My Dad, and Me avoids traditional chapter headings, and initially jumps back and forth through time, which can create some confusion. However, later sections settle into a steady rhythm as Lori enters adulthood, plagued by growing anxiety and secret issues with grasping reality itself.
Watching her slowly confront, then overcome, these inner problems is the heart of the book, and provides an ending even more satisfying than her father’s win over the Mafia.
As a narrator, Lori offers compelling moments of honesty and understanding, such as when she goes through a messy divorce with vast compassion for her soon-to-be ex. When she grows up, the adult Lori emerges as a stronger and more reliable narrator, giving readers reflection and depth that ties the book together. This warm and thoughtful voice that will keep readers invested throughout the story.
Imagine you’re stuck in traffic on a hot Florida Overseas Highway when you notice a group of rough-looking motorcyclists roaring down the highway between the cars. Irritating and enviable. But then, the leader of the group suddenly stops at a Cadillac and smash in the driver’s side window with his helmet. What would you do? Would you step in? Would you pretend you didn’t see it?