"Metropolis" by B.A. Shapiro; Algonquin Books (355 pages, $27.95)
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Part mystery, part sociological study, B.A. Shapiro's new novel, "Metropolis," springs from a fascinating premise. Zach Davidson, former drug dealer gone straight, buys a castle-like storage facility in Cambridge, Massachusetts, called Metropolis. These aren't the corrugated metal units you see out on the edge of town; these units are huge. Some are double-sized, with windows — almost like studio apartments. You see where I'm going here.
Zach hires Rose as his office manager — Rose, who skims money to pay for her good-for-nothing son's football gear and who quietly charges several people (in cash) to allow them to live (illegally) in their units.
Chapters are told from various points of view, including those of Zach; Rose; Liddy — a wealthy woman trying to escape her abusive husband; Marta — a student whose immigration status got messed up by a clerical error and now faces deportation; Jason, an attorney who "offices" out of Metropolis, and, most fascinating, Serge, a street photographer who pays Rose to allow him to photograph the interiors of the units.
This is a rollicking novel — not funny, but entertaining, as we first learn why so many people call Metropolis their home and then watch everything blow to pieces as someone falls (or were they pushed?) down an elevator shaft.
Shapiro clearly loves her characters, and you can tell she wrestled with how much harm to let them come to. All are guilty of something, and all found sanctuary in the mini-city that is Metropolis, though after the fall, none of them, of course, can stay. And then what?
