But Sullivan wasn't the only fascinating character in this tale. There was also Jesse Gray, Harlem tenant activist in the 60's who organized a strike where residents went to court to fight the slumlords, carrying rats, some dead, many alive, but all quite effective proving their point.
There were men who profited from rats such as the wealthy Kit Burns, the last known owner of one of the city's rat fighting bars, "The Sportsman's Hall" which was said to hold "250 decent people and 400 indecent ones" in 1840. He pitted dogs, other rats, and even at times men against live rats he bought by the sack-load.
There are those among us, in fancy hotels and restaurants, the secret agents of the rat world, in designer suits and dress shoes, there to kill the rats that hopefully the customers won't see.
And then there was Derrick, a homeless man who had learned to train the rats in his alley with sounds. Sullivan described him as one of Thoreau's "wild men" a truly unique sole, who heartbreakingly mentions the site under the Brooklyn Bridge as a good place to find rats with a quiet aside "Me and my wife, we were living down there. She died there."
The only fault in Rats is when Sullivan gets too engrossed in history and will go pages without mentioning rats at all, but always catches himself with a quick "But let's not forget about the rat and the rat alley" to bring the reader back.
Rats are quite possibly the most disgusting and brilliant creatures ever created, or at least you'll think so after reading Sullivan's book. He paints the city as a place where rats and human are not all so dissimilar. We're all just searching for something to eat, a good place to live, and perhaps to settle down and have a kid or two or 15,000.
