Alice Cary

Mystery & SuspenseHistorical Mystery

The Mesmerist

Review by Alice Cary

At one point near the end of Caroline Woods’ lively historical thriller, The Mesmerist, a truly clueless, chauvinistic detective working a murder case announces, “I hardly need the advice of a couple of nosy old crones.” Unbeknownst to him, however, the women he has insulted have already solved the puzzle, and are busy meting out their own form of justice. Set in Minneapolis in 1894, the novel offers a Dickensian plot and cast of characters, prose rife with Victorian details and atmosphere, and even a ghost story, as it exposes the lack of autonomy many women dealt with during the era.

As in her previous novels, The Lunar Housewife (about CIA intervention in 1950s arts and letters) and Fraulein M. (set in 1930s Berlin), Woods transforms real-life aspects of history into an intricately plotted mystery. Her well-drawn, intriguing setting is the Bethany Home for Unwed Mothers, which Woods notes in her author’s note was “surprisingly progressive for its time, respectful and relatively compassionate toward not only unwed mothers, but also madams and ‘sporting women.’ ” Several of these real women appear as characters alongside Woods’ fictitious young residents who live in the institution.

Among the fictional heroines is May, a 24-year-old who is trying to chisel a respectable life for herself while her child is being raised by her brother and sister-in-law in Chicago. May becomes roommates with a new arrival at Bethany House, a mysterious, seemingly mute, pregnant young woman who goes by the name of Faith. The other residents fear that Faith is a mesmerist— someone able to hypnotize others—an ability that was much discussed at the time given the en vogue spiritualism movement. 

Faith and May gradually form an alliance, only to discover a dangerous web of lies surrounding both Faith’s origins and, increasingly, Bethany House itself. As May delves deeper, this amateur detective finds herself in the midst of plenty of action, including stranglings, gunfire and dripping blood.

Woods nicely develops relationships among her characters while ably illustrating the plight of Bethany House’s inhabitants. The Mesmerist does an admirable job of transforming history into mystery, championing the rights of women and illustrating how many of these same battles continue to be fought today.

Caroline Woods exposes the plight of Victorian women and transforms history into an intricately plotted mystery in The Mesmerist.
NonfictionMemoir

That Librarian

Review by Alice Cary

There Amanda Jones was, living in her hometown of Watson, Louisiana, working as a middle school librarian in the school she once attended—an unremarkable and happy life. Then, everything changed. On a mid-July evening in 2022, Jones gave a short, powerful speech against censorship at her local public library’s board meeting. Four days later, she woke up to an email that included a death threat and accused her of “pedophilia grooming.” That frightening message signified the start of an ongoing social media campaign to destroy her reputation.

Jones was shaken to her core; she slept with a gun under her bed and took a semester’s sabbatical to deal with the turmoil. “What kind of world are we living in that has some of our most devoted community servants living so terrified?” Jones asks in her heartfelt memoir, That Librarian: The Fight Against Book Banning in America. Along with conveying the sudden terror of her ordeal, Jones shares the urge she felt to strike back. A few days after receiving the email, as she watched a cascade of social media posts and comments assassinate her character, she “wanted to karate chop those responsible in the throat. I don’t think words can adequately express the burning rage I felt.”

Read our interview with Amanda Jones, author of ‘That Librarian.’

Jones is a compelling narrator with a nearly unbelievable story that is a parable for our divided times. In this nightmarish tale of a small-town battle gone viral, she shows immense courage by standing up to her tormentors and refusing to be silenced. Despite her fury, she channeled her emotions into positive action, researching the politics, corruption and financing behind the attacks.

Librarians and readers will especially appreciate the story of her educational journey over the years as they’ll see firsthand how important representation and diversity are in library collections, and what lifesavers such books can provide to patrons of all ages and backgrounds. For all who value books, libraries and the freedom of information, That Librarian is an empowering, triumphant tale.

 

Librarian Amanda Jones recounts her battle to overcome book-banning extremists in her empowering memoir, That Librarian.
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

Still Life

Review by Alice Cary

Reading Still Life makes one immediately wish for children to share it with, since this book is guaranteed to have them shouting in glee, their exclamations growing louder with every turn of the page. At the same time, because readers must pay careful attention to the visual details on each page, enjoying the book is a wonderful exercise in observation, memory and anticipation. 

The fun is not surprising, given that author Alex London has written over 30 books for children and teens. In Still Life, the focus is on a curly-haired artist intent on explaining the concept of still life paintings—especially how predictable they are. “This is a still life,” he begins. “It is a painting of objects sitting still. In a still life, nothing moves.” He stands beside a rather baroque work in progress depicting a strange collection including items like a dollhouse, jam, paper and a flickering candle. 

Caldecott Medalist Paul O. Zelinsky carefully delineates between the painting, which is laden with colorful, intricate details, and the artist’s real world, which is composed of much starker, quicker sketches. This delineation helps readers differentiate between art and “reality” in this delightfully meta picture book. The first sign of trouble appears when a pair of mice climb up the artist’s (real) table, eventually scurrying into the painting and getting into the (painted) jam. Soon a princess, dragon and a knight appear in the painting, prompting the artist to declare, “Dragons? No, nothing like that in this sort of painting. There are no creatures to ruin the tablecloth or stomp through the strawberries. None whatsoever!” Kids will relish the oodles of activity taking place right under the artist’s oblivious nose, especially when he announces, “If you see a note in a still-life painting, please do not read it.” Still Life provides a fabulous, subtle way to teach children they shouldn’t always believe everything they hear, no matter how earnest the proclaimer may be.

London and Zelinsky have fun turning expectations upside down, such as when the princess saves the dragon from the troublesome knight. Still Life is a hilarious hoot, and readers will likely never look at a still life in quite the same way. 

Still Life is a hilarious hoot, and readers will likely never look at a still life painting in quite the same way.
NonfictionTrue CrimeHistory

Scotland Yard

Review by Alice Cary

“Scotland Yard has been called in.” Those authoritative words imply the renowned reputation of the London Metropolitan Police, first established in 1829 as the world’s first professional, centrally organized police department. The name, in case you were wondering, comes from the fact that its headquarters were built on a piece of land facing a small street called Great Scotland Yard.

Simon Read eloquently explains the force’s long-standing allure in his hard-to-put-down history, Scotland Yard: A History of the London Police Force’s Most Infamous Murder Cases. “It’s something woven into our cultural fabric,” Read writes, “a conduit between history and pop culture. We can trace today’s true crime obsession, in large part, to the Yard’s early cases with their sensational news coverage, in-depth narratives of criminal trials and the celebration of detectives.”

Read brings all of the gory details to life in 19 notable cases that span the course of a century, drawing from official case files, newspaper reportage, trial transcripts and detectives’ notes. His crisp, evocative prose gets right to the heart of the matter, which is usually bloody: foggy nights, a cavalcade of shady characters and a surprising number of dismembered bodies, many discovered in trunks. With chapter titles like “A Death in Duddlewick” and “A Murder in the Manor,” readers will be forgiven for feeling entertained by these grisly tales: Some cases read like Charles Dickens’ novels brought to life, and, in fact, Dickens modeled Bleak House’s Mademoiselle Hortense after Maria Manning, whose execution he witnessed in 1849.

Readers will delight in learning about the evolution of detective work and forensics. During the Jack the Ripper investigation, for instance, “sniffer dogs” were briefly deployed for the first time. “The Crumbles” chapter describes a house of horrors in which crime scene investigators began using rubber gloves (thank goodness!). Ballistics started playing a role in the 1927 murder of police constable George Gutteridge, with the press declaring that the murderers were “hanged by a microscope.”

Read’s previous titles include Human Game: The True Story of the ‘Great Escape’ Murders and the Hunt for the Gestapo Gunmen, and he has cemented his reputation for escorting readers through real-life, spine-tingling adventures with this volume. Modern crime fanatics will find themselves captivated by the enduring relevance and mystique of these Victorian-era crimes.

Simon Read brings the gory details of Victorian-era crimes to life in his thrilling history of Scotland Yard.
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

One Small Spark

Review by Alice Cary

One Small Spark: A Tikkun Olam Story presents a big idea to young readers in an accessible, manageable way. Starting with a dreary spread of a cityscape, overshadowed by dark clouds and scribbles, the text asks readers to “Imagine the world you want to live in. If that’s not the world you see, will you create it?

A girl departs a city bus with an older woman, both of their bodies bright splashes of color in a sea of bleak tones. At a park, another girl, also bathed in color, stares forlornly at a broken swing. After the first girl, our young protagonist, helps fix the swing, she notices piles of trash and other broken things nearby, including a little free library and a seesaw. As Victoria Tentler-Krylov’s illustrations show the girl eagerly gathering others—including kids and adults—to come together and restore the park, Ruth Spiro’s sparse text offers encouragement, such as, “In a moment you decide who you are and who you want to be.”  

An author’s note explains that the story is an example of the Jewish concept of tikkun olam, which can be translated as “repair the world,” “improve” or “make right.” Presented in this manner, it’s an idea that will readily appeal to young readers and is likely to set their own creative wheels spinning about problems they might tackle. 

Spiro’s narration is just right—gently didactic and inspiring without being heavy-handed—and Tentler-Krylov’s illustrations feel magical as they show color gradually spreading through this girl’s world as the result of her actions. By the end of the book, there’s a Marc Chagall-like quality to Tentler-Krylov’s art, in which figures swirl in movement and action, suggesting all of the possibilities that determined people can achieve. The final spreads of One Small Spark are a riot of color, full of constructive energy—a stark contrast from the dour cityscape at the start of the book.

One Small Spark is an ode to positive transformation, an affirming book that’s just right for its young audience.

One Small Spark is an ode to positive transformation, an affirming book that’s just right for its young audience.
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

Wolfgang in the Meadow

Review by Alice Cary

Who doesn’t love a friendly little ghost? Readers will fall in love with the delightful hero of Wolfgang in the Meadow, who yearns to be a master of causing fright, but whose happy place is basking in the wonders of a nearby meadow. When he’s not casting spells and “twirling in the air,” Wolfgang loves to hug trees, pick wildflowers and gaze at the sky. His goal is to follow his hero, The Mighty Hubert, as guardian of the Dark Castle. After 999.5 years of his reign, Hubert is about to pick his successor.

As Wolfgang studies the dark arts, he no longer has time to enjoy the splendors of the sunny meadow. Once he achieves his goal and holes up in the castle, he starts to flounder because something is missing. How can Wolfgang continue following this dream while not losing his essence as a nature-loving ghoul?

Author-illustrator Lenny Wen achieves eye-catching contrasts between the gentle meadow and fearsome manor with a combination of graphite and acrylic gouache. Children will delight in the spooky, darkly-tinted Dark Castle, which brims with lightning bolts, skulls and secret potions. The tone is perfect for young audiences, with well-balanced—“frightful,” but ultimately nonthreatening—scenes featuring pint-sized spirits. Nightmares are highly unlikely to ensue from all of this spooky cuteness. These eerie scenes stand out vividly against the bright colors of Wolfgang’s meadow, and together they provide a visual feast that helps readers understand the pleasures of both of Wolfgang’s passions, and how one feeds the other. Wolfgang himself—whose huggable shape resembles a puffy marshmallow—pops out amidst the lush green landscape, filled with wildflowers and woodland creatures.

With Wolfgang in the Meadow, Wen has created a fine story arc about making one’s own way in the world, defying stereotypes and the pleasures of leading a well-rounded life. It’s full of heart and humor, and Wolfgang’s dilemma will speak to readers of any age trying to navigate clashes between joy and ambition.

Wolfgang in the Meadow is full of heart and humor, and Wolfgang’s dilemma will speak to readers of any age trying to navigate clashes between joy and ambition.
Mystery & SuspenseMystery

The Lost Boy of Santa Chionia

Review by Alice Cary

“Too bad I never went to detective school,” Francesca Loftfield muses near the end of The Lost Boy of Santa Chionia. On a mission for an international aid group, the 27-year-old arrives in the titular Italian town in 1960, charged with starting a nursery school in the isolated mountain village. Life here couldn’t be more different than her native Philadelphia: There’s abundant poverty, minimal electricity and no roads, doctor or police force. The big surprise, however, is a skeleton that’s just turned up; it’s been buried under the post office for years but resurfaced during a flood. Several women beg Francesca to investigate, each sure the bones belong to a missing relative. Francesca’s volatile, opinionated landlord, Cicca, claims that “Fate has brought us together,” and before long, they are calling themselves Watson and Holmes as they investigate the mystery.

Fans of Juliet Grames’ debut, The Seven or Eight Deaths of Stella Fortuna, will welcome more of the author’s immersive descriptions of Calabrian culture and scenery. Francesca is charged with interviewing families to determine who should be enrolled in the nursery school, which gives her the perfect excuse to snoop around. A likable, intelligent narrator, she begins to piece together many of the village’s secrets, while observing its economy, customs, victimization of women, patriarchal and religious domination, politics, emigration and more. The author has called herself “a lifelong student of the Italian-American immigrant experience,” and her expertise, eye for detail and verisimilitude shine on every page. There are lovely moments of human connection, humor and a romance with a handsome man named Ugo, who even Francesca declares to be “a cliché of a romantic hero.” Grames makes excellent use of the area’s dramatic landscape: As the suspense heats up, Francesca finds herself in increasingly dangerous situations.

Just like a big Italian family, the novel contains a multitude of characters and plot threads, many of which require careful attention, causing confusion for Francesca and perhaps readers as well. There’s a big, abrupt twist at the very end, which makes one wonder if a sequel might be in store. With The Lost Boy of Santa Chionia, Grames has created a village teeming with life, and, as it turns out, danger and death.

Juliet Grames’ expertise in Calabrian culture and eye for detail shine on every page of The Lost Boy of Santa Chionia, a historical mystery set in 1960 Italy.
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

The First Week of School

Review by Alice Cary

Drew Beckmeyer’s The First Week of School is a game changer, an exceptionally creative back-to-school book that practically turns the genre on its head. It’s full of droll humor that will appeal to readers young and old. As the title suggests, it chronicles a first week inside an elementary school classroom, offering a bird’s-eye view of a variety of perspectives. In a clever, understated nod to the way people tend to pigeonhole both themselves and others, the students are given simple monikers such as the Artist, the Inventor and the Sports Kings, “who usually spend all Recess arguing about teams and never get to actually playing.” But at one point, readers learn that “The Artist is actually the fastest runner in the grade.” Beckmeyer even shares the perspective of Pat, the class’s pet bearded dragon; as well as the teacher (“the teacher gets her eighth cup of coffee before lunch”).

The plot thickens on Tuesday, when an alien called Nobody is beamed down from a spaceship, although everyone at school simply assumes this is the new student who was supposed to arrive next week. All sorts of unexpected, imaginative interactions occur: Nobody and Pat have a slumber party; the Inventor finds mysterious machine parts under his desk; Nobody takes an interest in the shy Artist’s drawings and even mounts an exhibition.

The First Week of School is a sophisticated picture book that packs an amazing punch, brimming with atmosphere and personality—and a wide range of activities, including a STEM lab, gym, show and tell, and recess. It overflows with wry comments, such as an escalating exchange about reading levels during storytime that ends with one student announcing, “I actually memorized this whole book. I read at a twentieth-grade level.”

Beckmeyer’s art style carries a childlike feel, adding authenticity to his narrative voice. Rendered in crayon, his many aerial perspectives take the reader from outer space and zoom in on the sun setting over the ocean and hilly terrain surrounding the school, then on the schoolyard and parking lot, eventually beaming readers—as well as the visiting alien—right into the classroom. In addition to being chock-full of pure entertainment, the diverse perspectives offered in The First Week of School remind readers of all ages that there are many ways to approach a classroom and the many unique, surprising personalities inside.

The First Week of School is a sophisticated picture book that packs an amazing punch, brimming with atmosphere and personality
NonfictionTrue Crime

The Devil Behind the Badge

Review by Alice Cary

District Attorney Isidro R. Alaniz believes that when taking a case to a jury, “The most effective structure for any argument will always be a story.” The 49th Judicial District of Texas, which he serves, is home to Laredo, where Alaniz led the prosecution of Juan David Ortiz, a married father of three and a 10-year member of the U.S. Customs and Border Protection agency who in September 2018 murdered four sex workers. In The Devil Behind the Badge: The Horrifying Twelve Days of the Border Patrol Serial Killer, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Rick Jervis delivers the tragic, headline-grabbing story with staccato precision and emotional depth. 

Jervis takes readers right into the heart of the San Bernardo Avenue district of sex workers, drug dealers and people with substance abuse disorders who live within a stone’s throw of the U.S.-Mexico border. Ortiz’s victims—Melissa Ramirez, Claudine Anne Luera, Guiselda Alicia Cantu and Janelle Ortiz—are painted vividly, thanks to Jervis’ many interviews with their families and friends. He carefully sets the stage for how each of these women’s lives intersected with one other and with Ortiz, who grew up as a Bible-toting Pentecostal Christian, served as a Navy medical corpsman in Iraq and eventually became a supervisor at the Border Patrol. Ortiz  refused Jervis’ interview requests and has given scant clues to what may have sparked his spree, but the author notes that the agency “tolerated an environment of misogyny and impunity within its ranks during Ortiz’s tenure there.”

One victim’s sister addressed Ortiz in the courtroom, saying, “You gave your word to protect the border, yet you failed. You betrayed your badge.” Jervis excels at conveying the frenzy of Ortiz’s crimes and his dramatic capture. The Devil Behind the Badge is an unsettling account of a serial killer leading a double life: one masquerading as an upright citizen, and the other mercilessly preying on society’s most vulnerable.

 

The Devil Behind the Badge is an unsettling true crime account of a U.S. Border Patrol officer who mercilessly preyed on society’s most vulnerable.
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

That Always Happens Sometimes

Review by Alice Cary

Get ready to fall in love with Max, the irrepressible elementary school narrator of That Always Happens Sometimes. He’s full of energy and enthusiasm that constantly erupts like a volcano.

In Kiley Frank’s clever text, Max poses a series of questions that reveal his personality, such as “Have your electric pencil sharpener privileges ever been revoked because of an unfortunate incident with a crayon?”  On each spread, K-Fai Steele’s illustrations beautifully capture Max’s gusto and the path of debris—not to mention consequences—that follow. His parents and teachers try to rein him in with multiple checklists (items include “keep hands to myself”) and interventions (tennis balls on the legs of his chair to squelch his noisy movements).

Both Frank and Steele excel at conveying much with small, powerful flourishes. For instance, in the chaotic aftermath of Max’s parents trying to get him to school on time, Frank writes, “The car ride to school was very quiet,” while a full-page spread uses just a few strokes to show Max in the back seat clutching his backpack and his father gripping the steering wheel, fury flashing in his eyes and tight-lipped mouth.

Frank uses Max’s questions to reveal life at home and at school, and poses variations on his answers to move the story along in creative ways. Max repeatedly notes, “That always happens sometimes,” or “I always feel that way.”  One day, however, he says, “This has never happened before,” as he participates in an intriguing team-building exercise that produces surprising and affirming results for all.

Young and old readers alike will recognize themselves or someone they know in Max. That Always Happens Sometimes is a delightful book guaranteed to bring on both laughs and greater understanding of the many Maxs in the world.

That Always Happens Sometimes is a delightful book guaranteed to bring on both laughs and greater understanding of the many Maxs in the world.
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

Ladybugs Do Not Go to Preschool

Review by Alice Cary

On the first morning of preschool, Ravi comes downstairs wearing ladybug wings and antennae. When he refuses cornflakes for breakfast, his mother tells him that it’s actually a bowl full of “aphids,” leading him to slurp it down. Later, when she suggests that Ravi brush his teeth, he replies, “Ladybugs don’t have teeth . . . but my mandibles could do with a clean—they’re full of aphid guts.” Such is the delightful back-and-forth between a mother and her imaginative son in Ali Rutstein’s Ladybugs Do Not Go to Preschool, a familiar tale of first day of school jitters with a creative twist.

Despite his reluctance, Ravi is a “curious sort of ladybug,” somewhat tempted by his mother’s promise of new friends and art projects. There’s a perfectly balanced interplay between Ravi’s worries and his mother’s support and encouragement. Kids will enjoy the exchange of ladybug details, although additional educational facts about these insects would have been a nice addition for eager learners.

Niña Nill’s cheerful art adds just the right touch, transforming Ravi and his bowl haircut into a ladybug look-alike, and adding subtle details such as an “Aphids” label to the cereal box. Nill puts elements like this on every page—Ravi’s red cheeks look like ladybug spots, and the house’s bright floral dining room rug, seen from an overhead perspective, makes readers feel as though they’re gazing into a garden scene.

Ravi’s worried expressions readily transmit his fears, which evaporate when he sees a helpful omen once at school, as well as other students’ imaginative costumes on the final spread. Ladybugs Do Not Go to Preschool overflows with imagination and humor, making it an excellent choice for young new students.

Ladybugs Do Not Go to Preschool overflows with imagination and humor, making it an excellent choice for young new students.
FictionPopular FictionDystopian Fiction

Burn

Review by Alice Cary

After their annual two-week hunting trip in northern Maine, lifelong friends Jess and Storey emerge from the wilderness to a bewildering new world. Bridges have been blown up, houses burned and villages abandoned—and there’s no internet connection to turn to for an explanation. Before their trip, there had been rumblings about militant groups that wanted Maine to secede, but the pair hadn’t been worried. Now, however, they find themselves “in the wake of a rolling catastrophe, moving behind some malign harvest whose shape and intention they could only guess.”

Peter Heller’s seventh novel, Burn, is one of his best: It’s full of heart and soul amid the bleak landscape (be forewarned, there are numerous bodies). In fact, even those who don’t normally turn to dystopian novels are likely to be completely captivated. Heller excels at writing about the wilderness, showcasing its might and beauty amid deadly situations, as he’s done before in books like The Last Ranger, The Guide and The River. Here, humans present the greatest danger as Jess and Storey attempt to make their way to safety, combining their intellects and survival skills in a way that brings to mind HBO’s The Last of Us, minus the fungus-infested zombies. Before long, these two men make a discovery that changes the calculus of their each and every move.

In addition to being a survival thriller and insurrectionist nightmare, this is also a story centered on friendship, how it is tested and how it perseveres. Burn interweaves the friends’ past and present lives with admirable flair, making each thread equally riveting. Some readers may find one surprising past relationship hard to buy, but even that doesn’t distract from the tight, authentic bond that forms the basis of this novel. “Love is attention,” Jess’s ex-wife once told him. “That is all you know on earth.” Over the course of the novel, Jess finally comes to understand what she means, making his emotional journey just as charged as the perilous landscape that he and Storey are forced to traverse. Burn is a propulsive tale that will keep readers on the edge of their seats from beginning to end.

Peter Heller’s seventh novel, Burn, is one of his best: It’s full of heart and soul amid the bleak landscape, and even those who don’t normally turn to dystopian novels are likely to be completely captivated.
NonfictionTrue Crime

A Devil Went Down to Georgia

Review by Alice Cary

On January 16, 1987, a vibrant, beloved Black woman, 35-year-old Lita McClinton Sullivan, opened the door of her townhouse in a wealthy Atlanta neighborhood to a man who seemed to be delivering flowers. Instead, he gunned her down, killing her with one shot to the head. Later that day, a judge had been scheduled to announce the division of assets in her divorce after 10 years of marriage to white millionaire Jim Sullivan. Nineteen years later, in 2006, Sullivan was convicted of hiring a hit man to kill Lita; his conviction was based largely on the testimony of that hit man, who in 2003 received a 20-year prison sentence for his role in the murder.

Journalist Deb Miller Landau writes a sweeping account of this crime and prolonged road to justice in A Devil Went Down to Georgia: Race, Power, Privilege, and the Murder of Lita McClinton. Landau first covered the case for Atlanta magazine in 2004. She writes of that story, “what really climbed under my skin was the humanity and depravity of it all. What makes people become who they are? What leads us to the choices we make?” The case continued to haunt her, and after George Floyd’s murder in May 2020, Landau, who is white, wondered, “How clearly had I seen Lita the first time I wrote this story?”

She revisited McClinton’s parents, now in their late 80s: Her mother, the “still glamorous” Jo Ann, is a former Georgia General Assembly representative; her father, Emory, is a retired engineer who has cancer and dementia. Neither parent approved of Sullivan, a divorced father of four who was 10 years older than their debutante daughter. As one source told Landau, “He was a real sociopath. He could be charming, but he could turn on you like a cobra.”

Landau excels at laying out decades of details, deftly weaving her recent investigations, including her meeting with the hit man, into the long timeline. While she does try to focus on Lita’s perspective, the victim’s long-silenced voice is hard to capture. In contrast, Sullivan’s misdeeds and bizarre behaviors reverberate, including his womanizing and lavish spending that alternated with extreme miserliness, despite the fact that he and Lita had been living in a 17,000 square foot mansion, a historic landmark called Casa Eleda in opulent Palm Beach, Florida.

A Devil Went Down to Georgia chronicles a collision course of race, power, class and, most of all, Sullivan’s narcissism and endless greed. It’s a page-turning saga, as well as a testament to Lita, her devastated family and the determined investigators and lawyers who sought justice for them.

 

A Devil Went Down to Georgia is a page-turning true crime saga about a calculating white millionaire, the vibrant Black wife he murdered and her family’s long pursuit of justice.

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