Lords of Sixty Third Street

Lords of Sixty-Third Street is a hard-edged urban crime novel that doesn’t waste time easing the reader in. From its opening pages, Edward Izzi makes it clear that this is a story about violence, power, corruption, and consequence, set against the unforgiving backdrop of Chicago’s South Side. As a reader who enjoys crime fiction, from classic noir to modern police procedurals, I found Izzi’s approach blunt, unapologetic, and intentionally unsettling.

The novel opens with a brutally vivid crime on the Sixty-Third Street Metra platform, where veteran Chicago Tribune reporter Michael Anderson is robbed and murdered by a gang of young men. The scene is described in relentless detail, from the oppressive summer heat to the chaos and terror of the attack itself. Izzi uses this opening not just for shock value, but to establish the book’s central themes: moral decay, urban neglect, and the thin line between observer and victim. The murder feels senseless and cruel, and that’s precisely the point—it’s meant to linger with the reader.

From there, the narrative shifts into a layered investigation told through multiple perspectives. We follow Larry McKay, another Tribune reporter and close friend of the victim, whose grief fuels both a memorial piece and a personal crusade to uncover the truth. McKay is a compelling protagonist: cynical, aging, deeply flawed, yet still driven by an old-school sense of journalistic duty. His internal monologues, ranging from newsroom politics to failed relationships, give the novel emotional weight beyond the crime itself. Alongside McKay, Izzi introduces seasoned Chicago detectives, mob-connected figures, and gang members, creating a wide-angle view of a city tangled in corruption at every level.

One of Izzi’s strengths is his familiarity with Chicago. The city isn’t just a setting; it’s a character. Real locations, institutions, and social dynamics are woven directly into the story, lending authenticity to the narrative. The dialogue often feels raw and unfiltered, sometimes uncomfortable, but clearly intentional. Izzi even addresses this directly in his author’s disclaimer, noting that the language reflects the era and environments portrayed, not an attempt to sanitize reality.

This book will appeal most to readers who enjoy gritty crime novels with a strong sense of place—fans of police procedurals, investigative journalism thrillers, and old-school mob fiction. Readers who appreciate authors like Don Winslow, Michael Connelly, or early Dennis Lehane will likely find Lords of Sixty-Third Street engaging. It’s not a light read, and it doesn’t aim to be subtle, but for those willing to confront its darkness, the novel offers a stark, unflinching look at violence and its ripple effects.

In the end, Lords of Sixty-Third Street is a tough, somber novel that asks uncomfortable questions about crime, responsibility, and the cost of looking the other way.