The Lions of Fifth Avenue

Looming over both Jack and Laura are the specters of unrealized dreams. Laura’s aspiration is journalism, but Dr. Wakeman’s sexism threatens to derail this dream. Her failure to earn a degree—as well as Harry’s illness and Amelia’s rebuke—force Laura into her prescribed gender role, at least temporarily. Laura’s setback is exacerbated by her expulsion from future Heterodoxy Club meetings, which comprise many women who feel unable to voice their aspirations in a non-club space. For Jack, his literary aspirations push him to work long hours, ignoring his children and wife. His manuscript, years in the writing, is his life, and its destruction turns him into an abusive father and husband; the subsequent guilt and despondency cause him to take his own life. In both cases, the threat—or reality—of dashed hopes push these characters to behave uncharacteristically. Even Sadie, whose ending seems optimistic, struggles with her own aspirations. To a degree, she doesn’t know what her aspirations are. Though she was initially content to work with the Berg Collection, Nick Adriano shows her that life has other possibilities, which only confuses her and fills her with anxiety. Her self-imposed isolation after her divorce leaves her emotionally closed off, and Nick’s presence throws a wrench into her life plans. In the end, however, Sadie appears to have it all: a career and a second chance at love, the fulfillment of two dreams.

Having dreams and goals is essential to happiness and success. Without something to aim for, humans are left adrift and purposeless. Betty Friedan’s seminal 1963 book, The Feminine Mystique, addresses this very issue: Women who felt unfulfilled by their traditional roles as wives and mothers, who desired more from life but were trapped by societal expectations, couldn’t even articulate their dissatisfaction (due to factors such as a lack of formal education). Laura, while similarly stymied, can at least give voice to her yearning for an education and a career. Her restlessness finds an outlet in writing, but more than simply reporting facts, she is drawn to the tumult of social protest, to not only write about it but join it. When the police break up a protest—Laura’s first—she tells Amelia, “Well, that was exciting” (163). The protesters’ passion for justice, their defiance of (male) authority, only whets her appetite for more. Laura, with Amelia’s love and encouragement, realizes she can give herself permission to not only have dreams but live them. But again, Laura and Amelia are rare cases, as most women at the time couldn’t afford to chase their dreams (or even consider this an option).

Fiona Davis articulates the connection between past and present early on in the novel. Sadie shares not only a familial connection to Laura, but the New York Public Library itself; Laura once lived there, and Sadie now works among the library’s rare books and memorabilia. Sadie studies and catalogues the past, while Laura lived it. This connection doesn’t come without burdens. While Sadie is happy to use her connection to the iconic essayist to consider lobbying for a promotion (which she ultimately opts not to), at the same time, she fears rumors of Laura and Jack’s crimes will damage her reputation and career. An 80-year-old crime should not have any bearing on an innocent descendant, but Sadie feels the weight of her own history like a millstone; this weight is likely exacerbated by her being a loner, with no other connections than her family, specifically her brother Lonnie. She withholds her familial connection from her boss, Dr. Hooper, and when he eventually finds out, it only casts further suspicion on her: “I don’t like secrets, and it makes me wonder what else you’ve been keeping from me” (251). The only way for Sadie to lift the burden of the Lyons legacy is to solve the mystery of stolen books (including the Tamerlane theft of Laura’s time). Once the truth comes out, she is free from the anxiety of not knowing.

While Laura looms in Sadie’s past like a mysterious shadow, a real, flesh-and-blood connection remains in Uncle Harry. Long presumed dead, Harry turns up at Robin’s sentencing to confirm what Sadie has already deduced—that Robin is the book thief, and Harry is the link who led her to Lonnie and LuAnn’s doorstep. Past and present come together through an elaborate series of circumstances that allow Robin access to the library’s rare book collection. Harry, taking pity on the orphaned Robin due to his own past, fed her all the information she needed to pull off her heist. He fully understands his complicity in the scheme: “I blame myself, for all of this. For everything” (350). Sadie is beset by her family’s legacy in both the past and present, by both Laura and Harry. However, she comes to realize that her family history is complicated, neither fully good nor bad. Jack’s banishment of his son and suicide are tempered by Laura’s historical achievements, and Harry is the living link to both worlds; and like both worlds, he carries both guilt and redemption within him.