MORE JLB

Just finished Creole Belle. James Lee Burke, one of my favorite writers and responsible for nearly twenty volumes in the Dave Robicheaux series, still commands a wonderful array of descriptive language and usually tells a good story and people who love his characters probably don’t quibble about his prose, but he seems to be aging in style and power somewhat, now unable to avoid repetition both from previous volumes and even within these pages. In fact, I think it is time to wrap up the series, perhaps. There was a part of me that kept saying that he simply doesn’t have that much more to explore, even if new characters are added. And OMG, the “ands” rush by like a heard of deer in front of a firestorm (in one sentence I counted six). I suspect the publisher, knowing any new Burke would have good built-in sales, forgoed assigning an editor to his best-selling producer, and no one apparently calls Burke to account. Sometimes the infractions are minor, such as having two characters include “over the hurdles” just pages apart to more egregious problems of retelling information the reader should be able to retain on their own. Sometimes characters, not directly connected and at varied points, bring up the same historical events or remembrances (door gunner who couldn’t wait to get back to a free-fire zone). He is consistent with his former novels in the series (and outside as well) in his toilet and scatalogical references (someone always seems to be killed or beaten in a bathroom and something---often repeatedly--will be referenced going up a rear or spit in someone’s mouth or an item will be needed to be removed from a mouth). His dialogue is almost always angry: hardly ever can two characters, no matter when in the book, have a peaceful or genuine conversation, as they seem to be bitter and distrustful and dishonest and hateful and (wait, I’m sounding too much like JLB). And they all talk the same. Burke simply is unable to give characters unique tone (with the exception of some of the minor characters with local color). Still, I liked the story. I actually thought a favored character might be headed for his demise, but no. I am thinking about not reading any more of his books, but I would be willing to bet I’ll be first in line when another comes out.

MORE BURKE BASHING

There was a time when I considered James Lee Burke one of my favorite authors, and I still read his books, having finished two recently while waiting for the latest Robicheaux to hit my desk. He can be downright expressive with description, positively lyrical in fact, but he is also like that super-bright student who just slides by on talent because he can, taking the C rather than working for the A. Yes, I am reluctantly saying that Burke is a lazy writer. I am starting to feel about him like a spouse of forty years who you love and never plan to leave, but you know their every tick and repetition by heart and can see through personal screens others cannot. Although you let them get by with the irritations, they sometimes grind at you. Nevertheless, at the end of the day you crawl into the bed and hope for another day. I've written about some of these issues before (see BURKE BASHING), but while reading Cimarron Rose and Heartwood, a competing series Burke engaged in that may just have been his way to get some distance from Robicheaux or perhaps to just make some more cash, but I found weaknesses and repetitions that kept popping up with irritating regularity. Some would say that I am nitpicking, and why even comment on these matters when no one really cares, especially since I will likely keep on reading his books anyway. And I will. . . I truly enjoy Robicheaux, Cleve, and the world Burke created for them. Some writing problems may be because Burke has gotten to be such a bestseller than publishers don't put editors on his books. Or perhaps not, but then that means we have a writer who is unable to change the temper and design of his words or stories, despite the often wonderful descriptive rifts, especially in developing the dialogue. Every character from the littlest to eldest, male or female, domestic or foreign, cop or civilian, ghost or seer, good or bad, talks and thinks as if they are one. True, like so many serial writers, there is little alteration of basic plot, solutions and action seldom develop beyond a well-worn path, but in Burke's work his characters practically all have the same brains and delivery---heroes, villains, and others. Action, plot, and pacing will often mirror that of previous books. You can be almost certain that someone will get beaten in a bathroom (often with a head put in a toilet, or the threat of such); some character, often the protagonist, will pick up an object and sucker punch a rival; a mystical spirit or individual will provide guidance and/or pithy commentary from beyond; one (or more) women will be constantly irritated with the main character (and often have a short life span to boot), with conversations tortured and angry; and someone will always be told to take something out of their mumbling mouth (in Heartwood it was "brown mule", and there is also a reference to taking shit out of one's teeth---a two-fer---but in other books multiple characters say distinctly similar words, with only the item changing, be it mashed potatoes, mud, marbles, etc). It was aggravating enough in his earlier books, but redundancy escalated in the Billy Bob Holland series. Repeatedly Burke employs familiar phrases, or outright retells information, as if the reader is an idiot. In some cases he does it literally within a few paragraphs, three times in two pages ("a Berkeley graduate, in Vermont"). He insists on spelling out every name, almost as if he is a high schooler padding his term paper. He employs favorite words ad nauseum, such as dimpled, flecked, marbled, flopped, fecund, rippled and a host of others, as well as scenes regular readers of have become all too comfortable with. In one he had a thing for organdy. In both BBH books, I think he mentioned his horse was a Morgan about three times, apiece. And his narrator's voice occasionally veers toward the racist, sexist side, particularly when several characters as well use objectionable words (which I do not believe reflects Burke's actual beliefs, as evidenced by occasional sermons that take a liberal bent). When a reader tackles only one or two of Burke's books, he can get away with it, but his loyal fans deserve better. I wonder if this is part of the reason he is not placed amongst the higher pantheon of writers, adored but not respected at the same level.

GLASS RAINBOW

James Lee Burke’s latest contribution to the Dave Robicheaux/Clete Purcell series, The Glass Rainbow, is largely a familiar romp across the swampy, over-fished storyline that fans of these books have come to love and expect. One gets comfortable with Dave and Clete, knows how they will react to each other. You know that one or both of the intrepid crusaders is going to be shot at (and most likely wounded), will chase despicable villains (both domestic and foreign), battle criminals and local law enforcement, experience betrayal, suffer hallucinations, and visit brutality in full measure on miscreants of every stripe. Both men will put their feet in their mouths. Clete is going to corner a bad guy in a bathroom and dunk his head in a toilet; he is going to bust someone up in anger and spend time cooling off in a jail cell. You just know it is going to happen. Burke’s writing, though, will carry along the reader, interspersed with short lectures on the history of Louisiana, evils of power and corruption, struggles of addiction, power of friendship, beauty of the bayou land, and resiliency of the people. Once you’ve become addicted to the travails of the Bobbsey twins from homicide, you know you are going to jump in the boat for the ride.

However, there was something a little more off than normal in this volume. While Burke is guilty frequently of repetition and unimaginative dialogue, he often counterbalances it with beautiful, detailed, colorful description and face-paced style. [And both people who actually read my reviews will recall my past complaints. J] But things got worse this time, almost as if the book didn’t have an editor to reign in Burke’s writing; as if Burke couldn’t recall what he wrote a day or two earlier. There is the familiar habit of giving different characters the exact same idiomatic language---one knows there will be the inevitable mention of piss (or spit) in someone’s mouth or a punch bowl, for instance, or someone will be brusquely requested to “get the [insert a variety of items, from grits to unmentionables] out of your mouth “. It isn’t so bad when it happens from book to book, because, well, they are the same characters and you expect a measure of consistency in their speech, but it happened several times too often in this book. Burke must have used “taken off the board” a half dozen times. He used the full name of the characters, nearly all of them, ad nauseum. He mentions certain facts repeatedly (such as Alafair’s rescue from the plane wreck). How many times did we have to hear mention of “the grotto that had been built as a shrine to the mother of Jesus,” in almost exact wording? I suppose that it may not bother most readers, and I might be overly sensitive to it, but it does bother me, and I think it takes away from Burke’s good passages.

Does this complain mean I will forgo reading the next installment, should there be one? Heck, no! Bring ‘em on!

BURKE SHORTS

Just finished two collections of short stories by James Lee Burke, Jesus Out to Sea and The Convict. Both are filled with excellent stories, well written and entertaining, though his subjects are often dark and disturbing, and are usually filled with loss: of control, of love, of life. Fans of Burke's writing will find many familiar themes, language, locales, and character types (often tough, resilient, survivors). Many of the stories are told in a conversational style through first-person narrative. Burke loves lawmen, soldiers, oil men, and teachers. He continues his habit of recycling phrases and words: such hot-pillow joint, dry lightning, dimpled, stand-up guy, yo-yos; I have commented on this before, so I will let it lie. The story about the Nazi submarine is getting a bit worn (it seems to crop up in every book, and was the main focus once) though.

Jesus Out to Sea is the stronger of the two collections, with much of its punch coming from his take on the Katrina disaster. I skipped the two stories taken from earlier books, and didn't want to read "The Molester." The stories I liked best were "Winter Light" and "A Season of Regret." Both main characters seemed to fall in the Robicheaux pattern. I liked "Mist," the story of the struggle of a woman dealing with multiple deaths and her turn toward drugs and alcohol, and then her particiaption in AA, especially her relationship with her sponsor who tries to keep her from slipping into a situation she is unlikley to escape from. Burke often plums either his own upbringing (or a familiar imaginary one) in a couple of stories about a young man growing up in Houston and facing the local bully. Burke's take on Bugsy Siegal was fun. He seems most comfortable placing his stories in post-WWII South, though he does stretch into other eras and regions, mostly the West.

The slimmer, and slightly less dark, The Convict, is not as satisfying, but touches on similar themes. I enjoyed "Uncle Sidney and the Mexicans" (about a stubborn farmer who rebels against the racism and intolerance of his neighbors) and "Hack" (a 94-year-old ex-Texas Ranger taking a memory trip in his mind). Burke's foray into Civil War fiction was pretty strong, "When It's Decoration Day." I think he should consider writing a novel-length work with the Civil War as his background. These volumes are a nice step away (but not too far away) from his Robicheaux and western series.

In addition to the short stories, I finished another in the Robicheaux series, Crusader's Cross. It was ok, though a little tiring for some reason. Perhaps I need to step away for a little while. As I have complained in other notes, some of the repetitveness gets to me (another character using the mashed potatoes in the mouth reference, his continued fixation with two-by-fours up people's backsides, electrical storms, etc.). Am I crazy, or does it seem like it rains a lot in his stories? And woe be to any women in his stories, they all seem to suffer. I did like getting to know his brother a bit better.

BURKE BASHING?

Anxiously, I keep my eyes glued to the plate-glass window of the Orleans bar for the porkpie hat and stretched Hawaiian shirt, afraid Purcel will soon track me down, ready to put one in my ear, knock the mashed potatoes out of my mouth, and try to drown me in the mens’ room toilet. That’s what I get for even thinking about dissing his pal, Robicheaux. But what can I say: I have a love/hate relationship with James Lee Burke’s award-winning series featuring the flawed, tough, principled Louisiana cop/bait-house operator who often carries too heavy a load and struggles to control his anger. I better finish my po’boy sandwich and crawfish, and sneak quietly out of town before. . .

I was introduced to Detective Dave Robicheaux last August and I have been enjoying his travails ever since. The protagonist is a flawed, honest, Vietnam vet; former NOPD cop and homicide detective; recovering alcoholic, and current denizen of New Iberia, where he runs a small family business with an aged black man (he has known since childhood) named Batist, and has an on-again/off-again relationship with the local Sheriff’s department. Burke’s descriptions of life in New Orleans and areas surrounding are often colorful, entertaining, and illuminating; there is an ever-changing crew of miscreants and psychopaths to deal with, as Robicheaux and Purcel (as well as other characters, such as his lesbian, tightly-wound partner Helen) doggedly run roughshod over the community, often clueless as to the underlying motives or activities, but gradually uncovering the truth. Thrice married (up to this point: his first wife left, second was murdered) and the adoptive father of a Latin American daughter that he pulled to safety from a ditched airplane, Robicheaux battles internal demons and despicable criminals. His buddy Clete (who deserves a book of his own) is even more interesting---often described as the best cop Dave ever knew, but whose addiction to alcohol, women, and violence knocked him off the force and into LA exile, though now he serves mostly as a PI in New Orleans for some bail bondsmen---and is guaranteed to be loyally by his pal’s side when trouble comes down or out making trouble for the bad guys in the community no matter what havoc he wreaks.

Burke is an excellent writer. His stories flow and keep the reader’s interest, and some passages are absolutely beautiful, and often funny. Loved the line "you hide your feelings like a cat in a spin dryer." I full intend to complete the series. The best volumes (of the one’s I have finished so far), in my estimation, are Neon Rain, Jolie Blon’s Bounce, Black Cherry Blues, In the Electric Mist with the Confederate Dead, Dixie City Jam, and A Morning for Flamingos. So, what’s to dislike?

In any series, especially a long-running one, the reader comes to expect a certain amount of repetition---the retelling of the character’s backstory (in this case, for example, such things as his father’s death; mother’s infidelity; wife’s murder; daughter’s rescue; relationship with Batist, Purcel, and other individuals). Burke always includes AA material, a reference to Evangeline, accounts of Robicheaux’s experiences on the bayou and battlefield, and widespread literary references.

It’s all good. But after a while some of Burke’s writing seems almost lazy (or his editor was too afraid to have him change things), as he often uses similar references and words, occasionally several times within an individual book. I wish I had started recording some passages. It is not that bothersome when an individual character uses the same words, but when several different characters use the same phrases in the same way in several different books. . .then I start to feel bothered. Some examples are: being "taken over the hurdles," "take the (marshmellows, mashed potatoes, marbles, rocks, etc) out of your mouth," "dimpled," "flecked," "hot pillow joint," etc. Pretty much, you know there will be a reference to fish "flopping," to an individual being turned into or worthy of being turned into soap (Holocaust-style), to dry lightening, to some sort of malfunction in one’s bowels, to nutria screaming, to a description of a poboy sandwich. Although my memory fails me, I think he even referenced the same song in several volumes.

The other thing that bothers me, is race. Burke appears to be a social liberal, and I expect a protagonist telling a story to reflect viewpoints of his time and place, but every once in a while a passage (or utilization of a disturbing word) sets my skin on edge and strikes me as perhaps reflecting racist thinking in Burke. For instance, in one section in the last novel I read, while retelling a story of a black/white second-storey team, Burke complained that one couldn’t expect much from "watermelon pickers." Maybe it was just the way I read it. . .I hope so. But there have been several occasions when passages gave me pause.

Will I stop reading Burke. No. I really enjoy these stories.