Rob Walker's LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS is part travelogue, part memoir with a little social commentary thrown in for good measure. According to the introduction, this book grew out of actual letters he began writing to friends after he and a girl friend identified only as "E" moved to New Orleans in early 2000. Four years later the couple left the city "for reasons that remain unclear." Since they at first were not meant for publication, perhaps that is why these meandering letters are so wondrously conversational and totally unself-conscious. To a letter, they are a delight to read and made me want to revisit this most European of U. S. cities.
Mr. Walker covers some of the subjects usuallly associated with New Orleans: Mardi Gras, jazz funerals, fine dining, the French Quarter and the relentless humidity. Although he obviously loves this city, he does not shy away from writing about the blight of public housing, urban decay and the fragile balance of race relations. The book is chock-full of both memorable characters and places. Whether they got that way on their own or were made that way by Mr. Walker's pen, it really doesn't matter. We meet Ernie K-Doe, the R & B singer who gave us the hit "Mother-in-Law," whose funeral Walker writes about. And Galatorie's, the restaurant that fired a popular waiter-- who apparently couldn't keep his hands off women diners-- and so incensed its clientele that the article covering the firing in THE TIMES-PICAYUNE generated more reader comments than any subject since September 11. Don't forget the part-time embalmer at the funeral home Over by Rhodes and fulltime cashier at the grocery store Save-A Center. Or the notorious Gennifer Flowers. I feel better knowing she wound up in a club in the French Quarter where she now occasionally holds court, sings a little and will be photographed with you for $6.00. It seems appropriate that her now club once was a bar with what the writer describes as a "high-end whorehouse" upstairs.
The author is nothing is not thorough. In one of the longest chapters in his book, he tells us everything we ever wanted to know-- and then some-- about the song "St. James Infirmary." Although I had never heard of the song before, I'm going to find the Harry Connick version and see what the fuss is all about. Mr. Walker is that good at making his case for this music.
One of the most intriguing things about the LETTERS is that Mr. Walker never tells the name of the woman who is living with him although he mentions her constantly. She is simply "E." Elvira, Emily, Evangeline? We do not have a clue as to what the "E" stands for. Since he tells us that she left a good job in New York City to move to New Orleans with him, we are probably safe in assuming that he is not guilty of transporting a minor across state lines. On the other hand, perhaps, as Garrison Keillor would say, E thought she could do better and insisted on remaining anonymous.
Finally, although there are many interesting photographs scattered throughout the book, we never see a picture of the author. Most readers want to see what a writer they like looks like-- and like Mr. Walker you will. LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS is a fascinating, informative read.