HONEY

A mobster’s daughter has finally returned, in her 80s, to the family’s New Jersey home, and she knows where the bodies are buried—literally.

Honey Fasinga, originally Ilaria Fazzinga, has spent a lifetime distancing herself from her Italian roots. To dodge expectations and bury memories of the brutalities she witnessed while living under the roof of her father, the Great Pietro—whom she loved, hated, and feared—she went to college, studied art, and spent decades living in Los Angeles, working at a prestigious auction house. But now she’s back with a sense of unfinished business, reconnecting, remembering, and trying to resolve the gap between her assured adult self and her violent childhood. Lodato’s new novel circles Honey ceaselessly, resurrecting people and events (some horrible) from her past while introducing new characters to challenge who she is now. Irrepressible neighbor Joss is grappling with Lee, a rough boyfriend. Gentle artist Nathan is attracted to Honey despite their half-century age difference. And what about Honey herself? Feisty, finely dressed, and fond of a drink, she is also suicidal and prone to panic attacks, an uneasy, unlikely meld of arrogance and uncertainty. As she swings between opinions and options, death visits the narrative repeatedly, and so do beatings, notably of Lee and also of Honey’s grandnephew Michael, whose exploration of gender sits badly with the Fazzingas’ “traditional” values, furthering Honey’s sense of distaste and alienation. This nature/nurture debate is the central feature of a story that is long and loose, driven less by plot than by the tireless recording of Honey’s ups and downs involving fine art, elderly indulgences, relationship choices, and a gun. This entertaining, Sopranos-esque mix doesn’t entirely gel, but for all the vacillating, the book does establish one inescapable fact: Honey is family.

Something of a jumble, this leisurely, tough/tender saga of homecoming exudes warmth and brio.