The Tin Roof Blowdown: A Dave Robicheaux Novel

At a friend's urging, I zipped through a couple of the early Dave Robicheaux titles — kind of liked HEAVEN'S PRISONERS — but this is the book that made a James Lee Burke fan of me. The prose is simple and apt, the imagery fresh, even startling, the moral observations trenchant, and most of the minor characters are persuasively well-drawn (including two, maybe three, of the women!), Otis Baylor and Bertrand Melancon being especially memorable. The narrative strategy (to counter the complaints of some reviews here) is sophisticated and effective. Alternating between sharply observed third-person omniscient narration and a first-person narrator was good enough for Dickens in BLEAK HOUSE — and it works here very, very well. The sites and movement of the story are so well grounded that my Cajun spouse, from St Mary Parish, could confirm nearly every temporal and topographic detail. What makes the reading experience even more powerful and affecting are the grief and rage and loss and love of place expressed, for New Orleans and Cajun country, in the aftermath of the calamitous one-two punch dealt by hurricanes Katrina and Rita. I had many friends displaced and otherwise affected by those storms, have heard their stories, their sadness, their fury; but never have I seen it given such full voice as it is here. Well done, Mr Burke, and thank you.

This is an important book, because it's Burke's take on the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and he is the master of atmospherics and physical description. The descriptions are indeed chilling and haunting and they mesh perfectly with the plot which is classic Burke--voices from the past, violent scumbags, the innocent somehow dragged into a maelstrom of ugliness, local criminals, the importance of family, the sounds and smells of the city and bayou and Dave's network, with huge helpings of Clete Purcel. It is being called his best book. It may be, but his work is so even in its quality that one can take up any one of his novels and be completely satisfied by it. And for Burke fans, there's wonderful news on the horizon: the coming film, In the Electric Mist, with Tommy Lee Jones as Dave. One curious part of the book is that Dave's daughter Alafair is now a novelist. In real life, of course, Jim's daughter Alafair is a novelist. Her third book just appeared. It is interesting that he sets up these parallels. I wonder what Alafair B thinks of it. Alafair R is bothered by her name (or at least Dave's abbreviation of it--Alf) and she plays an interesting role in this book, a major plot point turning on her actions. I would like to see Alafair B's thoughts on her fictional sister's portrayal here. The book has been criticized for its political asides. I think the criticism is fair. There's a tradition--highlighted by Chandler--of noir fiction's distrust of big government (and big unions, and big business, and big crime families . . . ) so the government--especially one that was so slow to act after Katrina--is fair game. However, the Louisiana governor gets off without a scratch here and except for an aside about the parked buses so does the Mayor of New Orleans. A comment on Fox News is way off the mark, the criticism suggesting that the narrator does not watch Fox News. The political asides do not ruin the book, but they diminish it a bit. Jim Burke is one of the two or three most important crime novelists of our time and his narration frequently sounds like the voice of an all-weary but all-wise God. We don't want him to sound like Keith Olbermann.

Southern Lousiana cannot be depicted in a book by someone who visited there once. James Lee Burke provides one of the most satisfying glimpses into a unique culture, dark practices, strange and unpronouceable foods, stirring music, a world dripping with booze, twisted by crime, and inhabited by impoverished people who live in the clutches of a culture that has produced mardigras, boudin, etoufee, and zydeco. Voodoo, drugs, sex, gambling, and names for common fish that no one has ever heard before; those things make up Southern Louisiana. But it's more than a culture that comprises races of such wonderous mix that music, food, jazz funerals, and the like are mere products of the creative minds of a myriad carefree souls. I applaud Burke for realizing that the story of Lousians is not a linear telling of history and present practices, or a before and after Katrina comparison, or painting a bleak picture of a subordinated people. No say me, it is a song sung by sea birds, to the rhythm of falling rain and storm winds, to the beat of large fish jumping for bugs and falling back into the water, and listened to by the ears of the soul amid the aroma of fried fish, boiling crabs, crawfish, and blood sausage. If you want to hear the song and experience one of the most descriptive and colorful literary journeys of your life, read not only this one, but all of Burke's novels. There are many people to hate, those that turn your stomach, those that you'd like to twist thir heads off, and those that you can't hate no matter how hard you try. One more thing. Not many authors can crawl inside the heads of sychopaths, an alcaholic, a Viet Nam Vet that has seen too much, a killer, rapist, a torturor, an ex-cop, and an impulsive partner that seems out of control. Burke lets it all hang out with these personas; and he does it like a pro or lay psychiatrist. You must read this book, let the language become an intregal part of the backdrop and get past it, be prepared to stay up late, and have great fun in the process.

In this elegaic , grandly unfolding novel Burke raises his hero and theme to the high level he has touched but not totally grasped before. Dave Robicheaux achieves a level of mature evaluation of Clete and himself, perhaps best revealed at the conclusion as he is confronted by a once abused woman who psychoanalyzes him in twelve step context. The novel is filled with large and small examples of the self frustration of evil but also the apparent inability of good motives to render good. But there is as well the question of the good motives: were they really self serving? Moral complexity as tankled as the rebar, roots and detritus of Katrina threads throughout the plot. A good example is the junkie priest, killed, maybe, while chopping an escape hole for the parish refugees in the roof of a church by four looters, most of whom will quickly perish while looting, unknown to three of the four a cache of blood diamonds, stolen by a mob boss from some terrorists. In this there is the sadness for a way of life lost, but also a clue in the priest's name, Jude Le Blanc: St Jude, patron of hopelesss causes, Le Blanc, the old, white Cajun scciety. Robicheaux mourns the old life, washed out to sea. Yet over and over again the descriptive passages with their lyrical beauty give a picture of the semi-tropical beauty of the hard blue sky, the spanish moss, the sheet of rain blown between the cypress trees. Burke's description seems to say the problem is not God but man that brings evil into the garden. I would not recomment this as an afternoon or airport book. This novel is not a fast read. Plot is complex. Characters are as interrelated as could be expected in a small town, and there is some serious probing of character. At one point Dave asks a string of rhetorical questions about judging. Perhaps appropriate as we are at the time of the year that articles on the moral/practical necessity of the atomic bomb appear in newspapers. The whole question of violence to eradicate violence that that great film Man Who Shot Liberty Valence raisedcomes back again. As the novel comes to an end I found myself wondering about some moral judgements I have made. I believe most readers will want to read this a chapter or two at a time. But as far as a literary judgement, I'll say this: if you are inclined to read James Lee Burke, do not pass up this chance.

As always, Burke never fails in his writings. The horrors of Katrina were very thorough. I no longer live in that area but it was disturbing to read.

While all book reviews are a matter of opinion, some subject matter is more personal for certain readers than others. James Lee Burke's novel The Tin Roof Blowdown brought back one of the most tragic experiences of my life. I confess I have bypassed most books concerning or having Hurricane Katrina as a backdrop. The memory strikes like a raw nerve being hit repeatedly by a dentist's drill. Some heartache never completely heals; we simply learn to live with it. The optimist in me wants to believe the major tragedies in people's lives will be the zenith of suffering for them and they will live the rest of their days with renewed reward. However, life is not always so just. When many were beginning to comprehend the effects of Hurricane Katrina, Hurricane Rita arrived, adding to the destruction and loss in the region. In my hometown New Orleans, throughout Louisiana, and along the Gulf Coast, we all suffered in some capacity. Visitors to our region, who understand and appreciate our culture felt the pain. Worldwide, people extended their generosity. I have noticed many victims try not to measure their pain against others of the same tragedy; they seem to only nod in empathy. It is a silent understanding. When a friend recommended The Tin Roof Blowdown, my immediate reaction was anxiety. I had heard of it along with a list of other post-Katrina titles. I decided to exert some bravery, knowing full well the emotions would resurface. It is a well-constructed crime novel. While I think there were a couple of inaccuracies in the book, overall, Burke conveys the climate of the aftermath with striking detail without being overindulgent. His characters are strong. The menacing character, Ronald Bledsoe, is as creepy and tenacious as Max Cady from Cape Fear, but lacking the charm. My biggest flaw with this novel was a recurring first-person omniscience from protagonist and sometime narrator, Dave Robicheaux. I concede this is my first time reading Burke and his loyal readers must be accustomed to his style, but I found it a bit jarring to read a beautifully detailed first-hand account of a scene in which the character was nowhere near. I found myself asking, "How did he know?" Halfway through reading, I knew I had an impending vacation to Florida. I confess I was hoping to finish this novel so I could bring some lighter fare to the beach. A bit of fluff among the sun, sand, and surf seemed relaxing. A pressing project commanded my attention and prevented me from completing the book before my trip. Yet, as I held The Tin Roof Blowdown in the salt air and gazed over to the Gulf of Mexico, I was grateful. I thought about the progress that has been made in New Orleans and the region since August 2005. I thought of BP's rape of the waters in front of me, but thankful so much sea life had returned. I wondered about the next unknown challenge. I felt an overwhelming pride for our endurance and resiliency. I realized the book in my hands, for me, was the perfect beach read.

I think that James Lee Burke outdid himself with his latest Dave Robicheaux mystery, The Tin Roof Blowdown. Burke has often used the backdrop of New Orleans for his often dark and tortured books. But no fictional event could have provided as much material as Hurricane Katrina did in 2005. Dave Robicheaux is a detective with the New Iberia Sheriff's Department, outside of New Orleans. When Katrina hits the Crescent City, all outside law enforcement agencies sent available officers to aid with the chaos that resulted. Robicheaux spent time in Viet Nam, but nothing he saw in war could have prepared him for what he witnessed in New Orleans. When he left Nam, he thought he would "never again have to witness the wide-scale suffering of innocent civilians, nor the betrayal and abandonment of our countrymen when they need us the most. But that was before Katrina. That was before a storm with greater impact than the bomb blast that struck Hiroshima peeled the face off southern Louisiana." In The Tin Roof Blowdown, bounty hunter and Robicheaux friend, Cletus Purcel, is trying to pick up some bail skips right before Katrina hits. But the same men that Purcel is after end up being wanted for a host of other crimes as well. Not only that, but they've stolen a fortune from the top Mafioso in New Orleans. So not only are the cops looking for them, but some unsavory characters are as well. How these characters all converge is vintage Burke. One of the things I like best about Burke's books is that he makes the locale a major player in his stories. He has a love/hate relationship with New Orleans and calls her the Whore of Babylon. When driving through the ruined streets, he muses "New Orleans had been a song, not a city. Like San Francisco, it didn't belong to a state; it belonged to a people." He describes southern Louisiana with lush brushstrokes, from the bayous to the wildlife to the marshes. But where he outdoes himself in The Tin Roof Blowdown is in his descriptions of post-Katrina New Orleans. No pictures that you may have seen will accurately tell the story of what happened to this historic city as well as Burke does in narrative form. It is that vivid and that horrible. James Lee Burke tends to publish a new Robicheaux every July. Fortunately for us, while prolific in his writing, he isn't publishing books just to meet a deadline. The Tin Roof Blowdown is the real deal.

It's been interesting following Dave through his many life stages. This novel reflects a more mature, wiser Dave. I didn't care for this novel for a number of reasons. The "mystery" that he tries to solve isn't well defined and mostly drifts. There are story lines that don't go anywhere. The real essence of the novel is the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. This part is well-told and far too graphic for my taste, but accurately presented. There is a lot of content here: The rampant racism that played out in many ways and at many levels; the efforts of ordinary people to do extraordinary things in assistance of others; the people who use horrible events as a screen to commit crimes against people and property; and the soul-wrenching disregard and inability of governmental agencies to handle crises. Burke could have used this novel as a way to preach, but he did not, much to his credit. He remained true to his characters and to their motivations and inclinations. It's well-written, especially in the character development. However, when I finished it, I was sorry that I'd read it. I could easily have done without the images Burke painted so graphically.

This is the first time I've read a James Lee Burke book and it certainly won't be the last. His fantastic description of the terrible aftermath of the New Orleans/Louisianna floods made the murder story sound true rather than fiction. The book provided a truer picture of the situation than any TV or newspaper report. Some readers may have a bit of difficulty with the southern language, but even so you'll have no problems with understanding the book.

In meinen Augen das beste Buch der Reihe. So echt und nachempfindbar, wahnsinnige Story aber leider mit realem Vorbild. Was unvorstellbar schien ist durch aktuelle Geschehnisse in den USA wieder in den Fokus gerückt. Das Buch belichtet die Lebensumstände armer (häufig) schwarzer Menschen und den gelebten Rassismus ohne lehrerhaft zu sein, da in einem Krimi verpackt mit den typischen Robicheaux Protagonisten. Einzig schade, das mystische Elemnt der ersten Bücher ist hier und in den neueren Büchern nicht mehr stark ausgeprägt.

I read this book first, then Black Cherry Blues ... I don't know what it is about his way of writing, but there is NO WAY I'll ever order another one written by Burke ... an absolute pile !!!!

It gave an insight into the devastation inflicted by Hurricanes Katrina and Rita on New Orleans, and the mix of chaos, lawlessness and goodwill that intermingled in the aftermath. The story line was heavy but good, I would just like Clete to drink less and Dave to stop thinking about drinking alcohol. Ian M

Mr. Burke weaves a story together like no other author. I have never been disappointed by any of his books, except that they end too soon.