From Publishers Weekly
This is a very angry book. It is the story of the pedophilia scandal that has rocked the Catholic Church, seen through the eyes of Pulitzer Prize–winner Breslin. As he did in I Want to Thank My Brain for Remembering Me, the author uses New York City as his backdrop. Breslin grew up in Queens and has a true affection for the meaning of the Church, but little respect for its hierarchy. He targets two bishops, Thomas Daily—who once responded to accusations by proclaiming, "I am not a policeman. I am a shepherd"—formerly of Brooklyn, and William Murphy, still ensconced on Long Island. Both worked for the disgraced Bernard Cardinal Law in Boston and wantonly transferred pedophiles from parish to parish—without notifying unsuspecting parents—where they continued systematically molesting children. When they came to the New York area, their blatant conduct continued, and Breslin has the grand jury minutes to prove it against Murphy, whom he nicknamed "Mansion Murphy" because of his proclivity toward a luxurious lifestyle. Breslin shows how the Church uses money and intimidation to stifle dissent and uses the story of a convicted pedophile, the appropriately named Rev. Robert Hands, to prove his point. Although Breslin hammers the power structure of the Church from the pope on down, he draws wonderful portraits of dedicated clerics like Father John Powis of St. Barbara's in Brooklyn, who covers all bases for his parishioners from the spiritual to stopping evictions, and Sister Tesa Fitzgerald, who heads Brooklyn's Hour Children program, which helps women coming out of prison. This book will anger people on both sides of the issue. However, it's doubtful they'll be as outraged as Breslin is in this disturbing tome.
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Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
From Booklist
In a book that the Roman Catholic curia will surely condemn, Breslin, a noted columnist and commentator and best-selling author, pulls no punches as he launches a scorching indictment of the contemporary sex-abuse scandals. Making an important distinction between the Roman Catholic Church and the Catholic religion, he offers his own Breslinesque vision of a new Catholic Church. Dismissing the abortionobsessed pope and bishops as a bad joke, he proposes the establishment of a new Catholic parish in the diocese of Brooklyn, headed by none other than Bishop Jimmy Breslin; after all, as he jibes, he is eminently qualified for the job, since he is not a pedophile. Personalizing the tragedy by introducing a wide array of victims, perpetrators, and ordinary Catholics struggling with their faith, he takes the Church hierarchy and its attendant culture of secrecy and coverup to task. Between the often-scathing lines is a serious proposal for a reawakening of the Catholic social consciousness and a call for a return to a more Christcentered church sans all the elaborate trappings and rituals, which have taken on undue significance in the modern era. Overflowing with legitimate anger, incisive criticism, and defiant challenges, this soulwrenching denunciation should make American Catholics sit up, take notice, and begin debating. Vintage Breslin. Margaret Flanagan
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
