Steve Lopez

PRAISE FOR
The Soloist
A Lost Dream, an Unlikely Friendship, and the Redemptive Power of Music

Publishers Weekly Starred Review
Scurrying back to his office one day, Lopez, a columnist for the L.A. Times, is stopped short by the ethereal strains of a violin. Searching for the sound, he spots a homeless man coaxing those beautiful sounds from a battered two-string violin. When the man finishes, Lopez compliments him briefly and rushes off to write about his newfound subject, Nathaniel Ayers, the homeless violinist. Over the next few days, Lopez discovers that Nathaniel was once a promising classical bass student at Juilliard, but that various pressures -- including being one of a few African-American students and mounting schizophrenia -- caused him to drop out.

Enlisting the help of doctors, mental health professionals and professional musicians, Lopez attempts to help Nathaniel move off Skid Row, regain his dignity, develop his musical talent and free himself of the demons induced by the schizophrenia (at one point, Lopez arranges to have Ayers take cello lessons with a cellist from the L.A. Symphony). Throughout, Lopez endures disappointments and setbacks with Nathaniel's case, questions his own motives for helping his friend and acknowledges that Nathaniel has taught him about courage and humanity. With self-effacing humor, fast-paced yet elegant prose and unsparing honesty, Lopez tells an inspiring story of heartbreak and hope.
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved

The Washington Post
In 1980 I entered the Berklee College of Music, a fiercely competitive and, I soon discovered, disorienting program for musicians. The disorienting part was this: although I had been the best saxophone player in my high school, I was barely average in music school.

On the commute home every evening I found no consolation. In every doorway, tunnel and subway station in Boston, there were great musicians: even the bums were virtuosi. As Steve Lopez wryly observes in The Soloist, in music there is always someone better than you, someone with more time to practice, more willing to do without a meal, an extra hour of sleep, even a bed if that will get him closer to his dreams.

Lopez, a columnist for the Los Angeles Times, first happened upon Nathaniel Ayers "dressed in rags on a busy downtown street corner, playing Beethoven on a battered violin that looks like it's been pulled from a dumpster." The guy sounded "pretty good." Later Lopez found out that Ayers had been a classmate of cellist Yo-Yo Ma at Julliard in the 1970s until he suffered a schizophrenic breakdown. Forced to leave school, Ayers ended up performing on Skid Row in Los Angeles, all but oblivious to the surrounding muggers, drug addicts, prostitutes and sewer rats.

The Soloist begins as "the tale of a man, stunned by a blow thirty years earlier, who carries on with courage and dignity, spirit intact." But it delivers far more as we follow Lopez's attempts to help Ayers bring a modicum of discipline to his life and music. Several readers of Lopez's column send musical instruments for Ayers, but Lopez becomes haunted by the idea that he may be doing the musician more harm than good, that the new bounty will increase the chances of his getting mugged or beaten to death. Lopez struggles with questions of how much autonomy should be accorded the mentally ill. To be sure, Ayers doesn't handle his life the way Lopez would (or wants him to), but the issue keeps coming up: to what extent does one individual have the right to try to influence another? When we try to help someone "for their own good," do we really know better than they what will ultimately make them happy?

Lopez arranges for a room in a nearby shelter to be designated as a de facto instrument locker, so that Ayers doesn't have to lug everything around in an easy-to-rob shopping cart. He tries to get Ayers into therapy and to spend at least one night a week in a homeless shelter. Ayers's own suspicions (some of them well-justified) and fierce independence thwart attempts to "mainstream" him. Lopez arranges for Ayers's estranged sister to visit from another state. The reunion is not without disappointment for all concerned. Each small victory toward bringing the homeless genius closer to normalcy is met with a backlash or a downward slide, paranoia and gratitude living in an uneasy alternation. Lopez hangs on, driven by the conviction that one more kind word, one more small intervention, will finally snap Ayers back into the real world.

Lopez is a natural storyteller, giving us a close-up view of the improbable intersection of musicianship, schizophrenia, homelessness and dignity. The result is a surprisingly lively page-turner, propelled by the close friendship developing between these two men and filled with eloquent passages: "Nathaniel isn't alone. Music is an anchor, a connection to great artists, to history and to himself. His head is filled with mixed signals, a frightening jumble of fractured meaning, but in music there is balance and permanence."

Scientists are just beginning to discover how music heals, through its boosting of immunoglobulin (IgA) levels and regulation of the neurotransmitter dopamine. Although this is not Lopez's focus, he beautifully conveys the effect that music can have on the battered soul of a true musician, a soul fighting to be heard through the din of dementia that crowds out the most perfect of human languages. Ayers, Lopez writes, "tucks the violin under his chin, blocks out the roar of traffic and leaves the known world. He scratches around a bit, chasing after ideas that aren't quite coming together, but then, as always, he finds a passage that works like a drug and the music pushes him free of all distraction. Eyes closed, head tilted to the heavens, he's gone."

The connection between the comfortable middle-class writer and the Skid Row musician is one of mutual respect and, to some extent, healthy suspicion. A new theory on the durability of music in our species helps explain their relationship: called the honest signal hypothesis, it argues that music is a form of pure emotional expression and that it exists because it is a more honest signal than speech. In other words, it is more difficult to fake sincerity in music than in language. Lopez writes that he deals "too often with people who are programmed, or have an agenda, or guard their feelings. Nathaniel is a man unmasked, his life a public display. We connect in part because there is nothing false about him." Perhaps the reason there is nothing false about Nathaniel is that his mind, his heart, his life are music.

Nathaniel's honest signal ends up touching all who hear him play, culminating in a much anticipated and beautifully rendered meeting with Yo-Yo Ma, his famous Julliard classmate. The Soloist goes a long way toward explaining the workings of the musical mind, albeit one tragically touched by madness. It doesn't shy away from exploring the failures of governmental programs and mental health services for the needy, but it does so without preaching and finger-pointing. It doesn't editorialize; like good music, it just is.
-- Daniel J. Levitin Copyright 2008, The Washington Post. All Rights Reserved.

Lopez is a terrific reporter. The Soloist is poignant, wise, and funny.
—Sylvia Nasar, author of A Beautiful Mind

A heartbreaking, yet ultimately hopeful, read.
-- Essence

An utterly compelling tale.
-- Pete Earley, author of Crazy: A Father’s Search Through America’s Mental Health Madness

With self-effacing humor, fast-paced yet elegant prose, and unsparing honesty, Lopez tells an inspiring story of heartbreak and hope.
-- Publishers Weekly (starred review)

Compelling and gruffly tender…Lopez deserves congratulations for being the one person who did not avert his eyes and walk past the grubby man with the violin.
-- Edward Humes, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist writing for the Los Angeles Times

PRAISE FOR
In the Clear

Publishers Weekly
A smalltown Jersey cop working in the shadow of Atlantic City sees the job of his dreams turn into a violent nightmare in Lopez's latest, a smart, funny character study disguised as a murder mystery. The story begins when 50ish sheriff Albert LaRosa gets an offer to become head of security for a new casino in his hometown of Harbor Lights. But LaRosa's bright future dims considerably when he learns that the slick, sleazy casino magnate, Oscar Price, has hired him to run interference for a series of land seizures from well-liked residents and the bulldozing of several houses, as well as the restaurant owned by LaRosa's erstwhile girlfriend Rickie. The battle between Price and his opponents turns nasty when a town meeting triggers a series of incidents intended to stop the building process, starting with a car bomb that takes out Price's car, followed by a blast that wipes out a local department store and then a bridge explosion in which a long-time resident is inadvertently killed. The high-profile violence attracts the FBI, but LaRosa makes most headway behind the scenes as the trail of suspects narrows to include LaRosa's rebellious father and Rickie's troubled son, Jack.

The narrative is fast-paced and mesmerizing, as Lopez employs a combination of cynical, world-weary humor, a taut, riveting plot line and gritty but heartfelt character writing to push the story along. The climax is captivating, but what makes this effort truly memorable is the compassion with which LaRosa handles his moral quandary and Lopez's sure-handed command.
Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information, Inc.

Booklist
Lopez, a columnist for the Los Angeles Times, brings characters from his previous novels (Third and Indiana, 1994; The Sunday Macaroni Club, 1997) together in his third effort, which features a loopy plot, engaging humor, and affable characters. Albert LaRosa is sheriff of the small New Jersey island town of Harbor Light. When billionaire Oscar Price offers him a six-figure salary and a $25,000 signing bonus to become head of security for a proposed new casino, he jumps at the chance. But his visions of a high-powered new lifestyle take a serious hit when his father's 1950s-style hardware store and his redheaded girlfriend's diner are targeted for demolition as part of Price's new development plan. Then both he and Price receive death threats, and a series of bombings, one of which kills the local town drunk, brings serious upheaval -- as well as the presence of the Feds -- to the once sleepy town.

Lopez takes some memorable swipes at gentrification, the FBI, and romantic relationships, among other worthy targets, in a delightful, very funny read.
-- Joanne Wilkinson
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

Review
When big-time crime turns its attention to the small New Jersey Island town of Harbor Light, Sheriff Albert Larosa is delighted, because it comes under the cover of promises for town regeneration and with a handsome job offer as chief of security at the new casino. No matter that family, friends and lover can see the offer for what it really is, no matter that everyone he cares for believes he has sold out: they do not know what happened in Philadelphia 25 years ago to send Larosa back to the place he grew up to serve time as a law enforcement officer who rarely sees any action. Up to now a quiet life has suited Albert: he and one other person have had to live with the tragic consequences of too much action. But this offer is a real break, a future to look forward to. And then the death threats, the bombing and the murder start.... Suspects include his father, his best friend, his girlfriend and her son, and so the reader settles down to watch what happens when professionalism clashes with personal loyalties, and instincts interfere with ethics.

This is an unexpectedly good read which combines a whodunit puzzle with humorous action and eccentric characters, all wrapped up in a fast-paced narrative which manages to be both cynical and compassionate at the same time.
-- Kirkus UK

PRAISE FOR
The Sunday Macaroni Club
A Novel

Library Journal
Lopez, a Philadelphia Inquirer columnist and author of Third and Indiana), brings good-ol'-boy, big-city politics to life in his second novel. Sharp young prosecutor Lisa Savitch escapes from Boston after a scandalous affair and joins the district attorney's office in Philly. She and retired FBI agent Mike Muldoon attempt to expose the shady deals of a colorful gang of characters who call themselves the Sunday Macaroni Club and are led by ex-con, ex-senatorial boss Augie Sangiamino. Needing campaign financing for his two no-good candidates, Augie accepts surreptitious contributions from Liberty Oil, a polluter pummeled by the press for a recent spate of cancer deaths among neighborhood children. While depicting political loyalty and betrayal, Lopez also shines a saucy sidelight into Lisa's romantic life. Engaging and fun, this novel is recommended for all fiction collections.
-- Sheila Riley, Smithsonian Inst. Libs., Washington, D.C.
Copyright 1997 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Booklist
In this humorous portrayal of political corruption and corporate greed, Lopez, columnist for the Philadelphia Inquirer, provides a story filled with convincing characterizations and memorable events. Philadelphia assistant district attorney Lisa Savitch, a beautiful, intensely bitter, chain-smoking marathon runner with a tough demeanor, has been assigned to collar the "Sunday Macaroni Club," five members of a down-and-out South Philadelphia political machine. Augie Sangiamano, ex-con and former U.S. Senator, is the longtime leader of the club, trying desperately to grab some vestige of his former power. While Savitch is looking into the case (and bewitching the FBI agent assigned to work with her), she discovers a link between the club and a local oil company that is releasing toxic fumes into neighborhoods where suspicious numbers of children are dying of leukemia. Before this investigation is through, there will be two murders, surprising twists and turns, and a satisfying conclusion to this imaginative, entertaining work.
-- Kathleen Hughes

PRAISE FOR
Third and Indiana
A Novel

Publishers Weekly
This hard-edged, stunning first novel is set on and around the corner of Third and Indiana in the "Badlands" of Philadelphia. Fourteen-year-old Gabriel Santoro has been assigned to this spot by a local drug king, Diablo, and it is here that the boy makes a small fortune by handing out crack to people in passing cars. Gabriel has run away from home, and his mother, Ofelia, aided by a sympathetic priest, is looking for him. What she doesn't know is that her son is staying with Eddie Passarelli, who needs 10 grand to pay back a mobster for the loss of a loaned truck; meanwhile, Diablo is demanding two grand from Gabriel to make up for an alleged shortage in his cash count. Money, with its awful power, is almost a separate character in this novel. Some, like Gabriel, become drug dealers to get more of it; others, like Eddie, are endangered because they don't have enough of it.

Lopez (a columnist for the Philadelphia Inquirer) doesn't preach, however; with brutal honesty, he alternates scenes of despair with glimmerings of hope and, even when detailing matter-of-fact violence, he writes with compassion about those trapped in a world where men like Diablo make the rules and are the arbiters of life and death. He also employs a brilliant visual image: spray-painted silhouettes that appear on North Broad Street whenever a teenager dies in a gun-related incident. It's an image that is as haunting as this tough, compelling novel.
-- Copyright 1994 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Booklist
Ofelia Santoro is determined to save her runaway son, Gabriel, from the drug dealers whose turf is Philadelphia's Badlands. Every night she rides a bicycle up and down the inner-city streets searching for her son, and every night she passes the folk-art memorial created in homage to the children who die every day as a result of the drug wars -- an unknown artist is spray painting the outlines of children's bodies in the middle of the street; eventually, the bodies will pile up at the doorstep of City Hall. Fourteen-year-old Gabriel would like nothing better than to go home to his mother, but he's in too deep. His promotion from lookout to crack dealer has come with a price. The ruthless gang leader is convinced that Gabriel has been skimming profits, and it's payback time.

First-novelist Lopez, a columnist for the Philadelphia Inquirer, siphons off the power of his eloquent images and his gritty sense of place with a slapstick subplot involving some bumbling thieves. This one lacks the intensity of Richard Price's Clockers (1992) and the lyricism of Jess Mowry's books; however, Lopez's Philadelphia is a marvel, its ruined streets and decaying infrastructure drawn with a delicate precision.
-- Joanne Wilkinson

Kirkus Reviews
Philadelphia Inquirer columnist Lopez captures the gritty urban landscape to perfection and humanizes even his most despicable characters. Gabriel is 14 years old and has run away from home. His mother, Ofelia, searches for him by riding nightly through the Philadelphia neighborhood known as "the Badlands" on a bicycle that he gave her as a birthday present, but which she had not previously used because she suspected that the gift had been bought with drug money. Gabriel began working as a decoy at 12, then graduated to lookout, and finally to full-fledged dealer for a violent man named Diablo, who shoots dogs with abandon. Gabriel soon makes the acquaintance of Eddie, a small-time musician who has just left his wife of ten years, and his two sons, for another woman and moved to a part of the Badlands where his mother owns a run-down building. His lover leaves him almost immediately, his wife threatens to keep him from seeing his children, and the truck he borrowed from a mobster in order to move had an electrical problem and burned up on the highway. When the mayor of Philadelphia dies and is laid out in the funeral home of an acquaintance, Eddie and a pal plan to stage a break-in and steal a large ring that they spotted on the corpse's finger during television coverage so that Eddie can pay the mobster back; Gabriel, in debt to Diablo and therefore in hiding, soon becomes involved.

The many plots and subplots, centering on love or desperation or both, revolve and intersect at a fast pace. Lopez's real accomplishment here is his rich, layered evocation of a life usually mauled (by the press, on television) with the blunt instruments of sensationalism and crocodile tears.
-- Copyright ©1994, Kirkus Associates, LP.