The New Iberia Blues

After reading all of Burke’s novels over the past couple of decades, I can safely say that New Iberia Blues is his swan song. As much as I love his writing and his characters, the Louisiana culture and its beauty, I wish it was a stronger piece of work. And, I wish he had not ended it with Dave getting all pants-on-head stupid about a woman fifty years his junior.

After Dave finds the body of a young woman floating in the bay, nailed to a cross, he knows there is yet another sick killer out there who will kill again. When a second body is found, it also has a stylized body presentation that Dave’s new partner, Bailey Ribbons, recognizes as representative of The Hanged Man, of the Tarot cards. As more bodies stack up, each is staged like another card in the deck.

Meanwhile there is a production company in town filming a movie with highly acclaimed director Desmond Cormier, a local from Dave’s past. It’s full of creepy Hollywood types with capped teeth, fast cars, and twisted proclivities. Dave, rightly so, does not trust them and he’s positive Desmond, who he remembers as a young boy, is lying. And he is creeped out by Desmond’s sidekick with the funky name, Antoine Butterworth.

The story moves along with Clete being his usual destructive, but loyal, self and Helen Soileau running the department with her usual soft side for Dave even though he infuriates her on a daily basis. Alafair is still living with Dave as she writes her latest novel, The Wife, so she can sell it for optioning (look it up, true story in Burke and Alafair Burke’s life. It’s her best work, IMO). And New Iberia Blues is filled with the usual Louisiana/Cajun characters with desolate backstories, desolate present lives, and poetic names. There is also the usual cringe-worthy violence that will make the reader curl their toes.

The weakest plot line in the book is Dave’s relationship with his new partner, Bailey Ribbons. He’s insta-hot for her, as are other male characters, and it completely detracts from the story. I understand she is there to create tension and distraction and doubt but I was annoyed by the screaming difference in ages between her and Dave. He was alive during WWII, she was 5 years old on 9/11. Yep, there is a 50 year difference and I’m not being ageist when I say it is the most implausible coupling in all his novels. I almost tossed his last Hackberry Holland book out the window when he got it on with his female partner forty years his junior. Burke’s books are fiction, not fantasy.

I liked the Tarot aspect to the serial killings, it added a mystical element that fits in well with Burke’s Louisiana. But when the killer is finally revealed, the motive is weak and the reason why that person used the Tarot is lost in the chaos.

There’s a lot of philosophical narrative and reminiscing in this book. There were times I was lost as to what Burke was saying but I got the message: Dave Robicheaux may be mortal but Burke is more so. There is a paragraph in the epilogue when you know the author is saying goodbye; he loves his characters, his books, his Louisiana, but after twenty-two Robicheaux books and 16 other novels, and at 81 years of age, I think James Lee Burke is calling it a night. He will always be one of my favorite writers.

Two stars instead of one, only because of memories. Memories of when my wife and I would fight over who got to read his latest book first. That was ten years ago. This is the first Robicheaux I’ve read since she, my wife died. That was seven years ago. Unfortunately it’s either the third or fourth time I’ve read THIS Robicheaux. The names are all he changes now. The plots are basically one of three to select from. He needs to stop trying to set them in modern times; it doesn’t work. In this novel he references Robicheaux in college in 1960. So his kick-ass character is between 78-82; that’s WAY PAST “late middle age”. Also Burke himself is slipping, badly. He needs to quit. What used to be edgy ‘Nam vet ex-alkie now comes across as bitter delusional dry drunk. What used to be colorful descriptions of Bayou Country and Culture are just rambling word salads. I think it was 7-8 books ago, whatever, he essentially killed off Robicheaux and Cletus in an epic gunbattle at the finish of a book. He should have left him dead. Now it’s just tedious. Ah well… life goes on. We get older, but wisdom isn’t guaranteed. People don’t so much as get “stuck” in ruts; as decide to sling a hammock. Burke has slung his beside a bayou.

I wait impatiently for his books to emerge. This one didn’t disappoint. Dave and Clete are my two favorite characters of all the stories I’ve read. I hope you never stop writing Mr. Burke, but if you do I’ll go back to the beginning novel and start this wonderful journey all over again. Thank you for your work.

Admittedly, Dave Robicheaux and Clete Purcel are an acquired taste. It was a taste I welcomed enthusiastically when first introduced to the series. I read them all and couldn’t wait for the next one. I loved everything about the series, its atmosphere, its setting, its plots and the characterizations of its good guys and bad guys. However, Burke has lost quite a bit off his fastball and his recent Robicheaux efforts are pale imitations of the early books in the series. This is the worst of the lot. In fact, the characters and plots seem so familiar that they almost are literal imitations. The aspects of Robicheaux’s and Purcel’s personality and character that once seemed so appealing now come across as annoying, irritating and phony. They haven’t aged well. They both, especially Robicheaux, now seem merely pathetic. By the way, Burke’s obvious intolerance for, almost hatred of, so-called “Hollywood types” has gotten old. I can’t read these books any longer. It’s sad.

I have been a Robicheaux fan since I discovered him in my teen years and I wait with anticipation for each new novel about him to appear. Burkes storytelling skills never disappoint and NEW IBERIA BLUES is no exception. Besides being an excellent writer, Burkes wisdom about history, human nature, and life in general are profound, as well as his ability to paint beautiful prosaic pictures of New Orleans and the Deep South state of Louisiana where most of the stories unfold. The violence and evil he writes about are softened by the personal philosophy that runs through every tale and efforts to make sense of the world we live in without sacrificing the excitement and anticipation that keeps me reading to the last page. His insight into Robicheauxs struggle with alcoholism and his own humanity are astounding and his skill at putting human flaws and strengths into words unsurpassed. He is a man who definitely grasps the human condition, both good and bad, and who is able to describe it with clarity and sensitivity. Burke is, indeed, a master at his trade, Robicheaux a character who seems to be a modern Everyman, and I do not relish the wait for the next installment!

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