Patrick Radden Keefe

I have had a string of 5-star reads, and I am starting to worry that I am going to lose all credibility, assuming I had any to be lost. But I swear that it is just dumb luck that I have been reading a lot of stellar books, and that every star I award here has been earned.

I have never read a Patrick Raden Keefe book or article that I have not thought was exceptional, and that streak is not broken here. This is the story of the murder? suicide? of Zac Brettler, a 19-year old London boy with show more the analytical powers and decayed soul of Donald Trump. Zac was raised to believe he was the center of the world, and when he did not get one thing (admission into an elite school) it apparently turned him into a selfish person who always needed to be a person people envied, and as a result a compulsive liar. Zac was obsessed with wealth and position, and in his quest to be incredibly wealthy (he was raised with significant economic privilege, but that was not enough) he created a situation through his deceit and choice of companions in which he was going to die. And when he died, the only question was whether he killed himself before someone else did the job, or whether they did the deed. The story is jaw-dropping, and also very relevant to this historic moment where truth is reviled, obscene wealth has become our golden idol, and all sense of duty to the collective has been crushed. Yes, I was a voyeur here, but not entirely that. This raises meaningful questions and avenues for thought for the reader, and holds Scotland Yard and the economic structure of London up to the light.

The story is told in three pieces. First, we meet Zac and learn something about his story (though some of this is guesswork. The second piece is where we meet the grifters and thugs who caused Zac's death, and boy, is that colorful. Finally, we ride alongside Zac's parents as they try to get answers, and as they are introduced to PRK, they tirelessly work together to tell this story. IT doesn't seem like that structure should work, but it does.

My heart goes out to the Brettlers, and I appreciate their rigor in trying to find Zac's story and to find a way for some good to have come from their heartbreak. This is an extraordinary true crime story. This is how it is done. show less

In December 1972, Jean McConville is taken away from her apartment in front of her ten children by masked gunmen. She is never seen again. In March 1973, along with nine others including her sister, Delours Price places four car bombs in central London. She is arrested while trying to leave the country. During her stay in prison, she and her sister go on a hunger strike and are force-fed by the prison authorities.

Using the framework of these two women's lives, Patrick Radden Keefe explores show more the history of Northern Ireland during the years known as The Troubles, a thirty year span that began in the late 1960s and ended with the Good Friday Agreements of 1998. The Troubles are a complex and maddening part of a long conflict, but by structuring it around a single event, and two women, Keefe manages to control the focus of the book. McConville was killed by the Provisional IRA, known as the Provos, and while usually the bodies of anyone murdered by them were left to be found as a warning to others, McConville's was not. The reasoning for that is unclear as is the reason for her murder. The attempt to unravel what happened to her involves learning about what daily life was like for the citizens of Belfast, what drew young people into the IRA and how the Provisional IRA functioned during those years and how it was that they came to decide on peace.

This is a superlatively good book. By keeping the focus on the two women, Keefe was able to give a solid history of the IRA during the years of The Troubles in a manageable and compelling way. Delours Price is a fascinating woman who was in the middle of the things for a long time. And the impact of and ambiguity around Jean McConville's disappearance, not the least what it did to her children, makes her story impossible to set aside. show less

“London Falling” is an unsettling work of investigative nonfiction that examines the mysterious death of Zac Brettler, a young man who plunged from a fifth-floor balcony overlooking the Thames. Officially ruled a suicide, the case immediately raises doubts, and Keefe methodically explores whether Zac’s death was in fact something far darker. What emerges is less a conventional true-crime narrative than a portrait of contemporary London itself—a city saturated with money, corruption, show more illusion, and moral compromise.

Keefe’s extraordinary reporting is the book’s key strength. He follows numerous leads and reconstructs a tangled web of interconnected stories surrounding Zac. Each strand is compelling in its own right. There are wealthy elites and aspiring social climbers, con men selling fantasies of financial success, brutal criminals who extort the rich through threats and violence, and investigators whose failures suggest either incompetence or deliberate concealment. Through these narratives, Keefe reveals how easy it is for vulnerable people to become seduced by the glamour of wealth and proximity to power.

Zac himself becomes a tragic figure caught between worlds. Fascinated by luxury and status, he appears to have imagined a double life in which he could move among London’s rich and influential. Keefe handles this aspect of the story carefully, portraying Zac not simply as naïve but as emblematic of a culture obsessed with image, access, and reinvention. Keefe is equally attentive to the emotional devastation experienced by Zac’s parents, whose grief drives much of his investigation. Their desperate search for answers gives the book its emotional center. Keefe’s exploration of the family’s history adds important psychological depth, helping to explain both Zac’s motivations and the intensity of his parents’ refusal to accept simplistic conclusions.

Another major achievement of the book is its depiction of London itself. Keefe presents the city as a global haven for oligarchs, financiers, and shadowy operators, where enormous wealth often exists alongside corruption and moral indifference. Expensive apartments, exclusive clubs, and hidden criminal networks form the disturbing backdrop of a society in which money can distort justice and obscure truth. In fact, one of the most effective aspects of the book is the atmosphere of instability and uncertainty that Keefe creates through his reporting. The deeper he investigates Zac’s death, the more the reader experiences a growing sense that every reassuring surface conceals something darker underneath. Keefe is not simply investigating a suspicious fall; he is dismantling the illusion of security and respectability that surrounded nearly every aspect of Zac’s life. What makes this mood so unsettling is that Keefe repeatedly introduces figures or institutions that initially appear trustworthy, only to reveal hidden corruption, deception, or menace. The Brettlers’ aspiration toward a stable, successful family life—with financial comfort, educational opportunity, and social advancement—gradually curdles into something tragic and disorienting. Their dream resembles a classic modern ideal of prosperity and achievement, yet the closer Keefe looks, the more fragile and illusory that ideal becomes. Their family history is especially important in creating this emotional atmosphere. Keefe uncovers how even revered figures within the family mythology are compromised. An ancestor celebrated as a respected religious leader is revealed to have fabricated parts of his educational background while secretly maintaining two separate families. That revelation is deeply symbolic within the book. A figure who should represent moral authority and stability instead embodies duplicity and concealed shame. With this element, Keefe suggests that the instability haunting Zac’s life did not emerge suddenly but existed beneath the family narrative long before his death.

This pattern repeats throughout the investigation. Individuals who present themselves as guides, protectors, or benefactors are exposed as manipulative opportunists. A seemingly avuncular entrepreneurial mentor offering wisdom and access to wealth turns out to be little more than a grifter trafficking in fantasies and failed schemes. Likewise, an older man who appears to rescue a vulnerable young Zac from trouble gradually reveals himself as profoundly sinister—a predator whose outward charm masks intimidation and violence. Keefe is particularly skilled at showing how charisma and menace can coexist. Many of the book’s most dangerous figures survive precisely because they understand how to appear helpful, worldly, or reassuring. Even the police investigation contributes to this atmosphere. The police’s inability—or unwillingness—to pursue certain leads leaves lingering suspicions of either extraordinary incompetence or deliberate protection of criminal informants. Keefe never forces definitive conclusions, but he carefully arranges the evidence, so the reader feels trapped inside ambiguity. The cumulative effect is a profound erosion of certainty. Readers begin to feel that no testimony is entirely reliable, no institution fully competent, and no relationship free from hidden agendas.

That uncertainty gives the book much of its emotional power. Rather than providing the satisfaction of a solved mystery, Keefe creates the feeling of wandering through a hall of mirrors where appearances continually collapse. Wealth becomes entangled with criminality, mentorship with exploitation, family history with deception, and opportunity with danger. By the end, the reader shares the Brettlers’ anguish: the terrifying realization that the world they believed they inhabited may never have existed in the form they imagined.

At times, however, the book’s greatest virtue also becomes its primary weakness. Keefe includes an immense amount of detail, and not all of it feels equally relevant. Some peripheral stories, while fascinating, seem to move the narrative away from the central mystery rather than closer to resolution. Readers hoping for definitive answers may find the conclusion frustratingly inconclusive. Keefe points toward several plausible scenarios, but concrete proof remains elusive. In the end, the uncertainty surrounding Zac’s death persists. Yet perhaps that ambiguity is precisely his point. “London Falling” demonstrates how difficult truth can be to establish in a world shaped by wealth, secrecy, and institutional failure. The book is especially effective in showing how modern technology—surveillance footage, phone records, digital traces—creates the possibility of uncovering hidden realities, while still leaving crucial gaps that cannot always be bridged.

Ultimately, the book succeeds not because it solves a mystery, but because it illuminates the murky social forces surrounding it. Keefe combines investigative rigor with empathy and atmospheric storytelling to create a haunting examination of grief, corruption, and the seductive dangers of wealth. show less

This is an engrossing account of The Troubles in Ireland, starting in the 1970s and ending on the eve of Brexit. It's a very complex and fraught subject: there are a lot of people involved, the conflicts between them can seem inexplicable to outsiders, and the issues are morally complex. Keefe doesn't shy away from any of that complexity, and yet still manages to make all of it readily digestible for his readers.

The book is meticulously researched. So much of The Troubles have been shrouded show more in secrecy - the titular "say nothing" is an IRA survival tactic, to the point that a lot of people never even told their closest family members that they were involved in the IRA - so the amount of detail Keefe has been able to uncover and piece together is impressive.

Keefe also does a good job of helping the reader keep track of all of the people involved. He paints vivid but realistic portraits of everyone, and provides the reader with just enough context when he hasn't mentioned a person in a while that it's easy to remember who is who and why they are important.

The Troubles are a very morally and emotionally charged topic. Keefe clearly understands the motivations of the people involved, and portrays them sympathetically without justifying or condemning their actions. There is no easy good/bad/right/wrong here, and Keefe is sensitive to that fact. Even with as complex a character as Gerry Adams, who could easily be portrayed as either a saint or a psychopath, Keefe does not pass judgement.

The book also focuses a lot of attention on an oral history project undertaken by Boston College. The college had the best of intentions: they wanted to get the people who had said nothing for decades to spill their beans, with the promise that their stories would be kept a secret until after their deaths. However, they clearly didn't think through the ramifications very well, and as soon as the British government learned of the existence of these oral histories they subpoenaed them and the college was utterly unprepared to deal with it. There are some tough lessons for historians here, which add another layer of difficult moral questions.

All of this makes for a fascinating, compelling, compassionate, and heartbreaking read. show less