Customer Reviews

The Tin Roof Blowdown

5 star:		(110)
4 star:		(37)
3 star:		(11)
2 star:		(9)
1 star:		(5)

 

 

This is the most horrifying description of post Katrina that I've read to date. Burke's lush descriptions of the beauty of New Orleans and Louisiana bayou country are gone, replaced by "bodies wrapped tight like mummies in the gray and brown detritus left by the receding waters." There were parts I had to close my eyes to listen to because the sense of place was so vivid and I couldn't stand what I was seeing. There were times I found tears rolling down my face without notice.

The story is vintage Burke with a little bit of "is it mystical magic or not" thrown in amongst the good vs. evil that is the cross on which Burke hangs his stories. Burke's politics is more evident here than in other books, with Bush bashing, gratuitous remarks about Fox News, etc., jarringly interrupting the story's magic. But yet, the depth of Burke's anger at what happened in New Orleans, the failures and abandoment, certainly is well-grounded, and he vents that anger for all to see.

You can read the publisher's summary to get a feel for the story, but even if Burke was writing about the recipe for a fish stew, I'd read it and it would be wonderful. There is not a writer alive today that can put you in the scene so completely - the smells, the sights, the scent of the breeze, the color of sunlight and shade, the fragility of a human soul and its wounds...he's just amazing.

This is a wonderful, achingly sad, and horrific story of how Burke mourns the City of New Orleans and what it once was. Dave and Clete have lost their anchor and their childhoods.

I'd give it 10 stars if possible.

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.

Let me say upfront, that I like J.L.Burke's writing, and his basic attitude to life and the world. When I give this current bestseller only 3 stars, it comes first of all from a spirit of contrariness (if all others give 5 stars, I must find something wrong..., sorry), but also from a sense of dissatisfaction with too many elements in the story.
The book starts with a very strong short chapter on Dave's Vietnam nightmares, which makes you think of the parallells to the Katrina experience: manifold death in a tropical setting of chaos. It follows up on this introduction with many equally strong chapters on the hurricane and and its aftermath: the destruction, the violence, the neglect, the hopelessness.
But then it loses steam by focusing on a crime narrative that is just too overloaded with cliches and with the slightly worn out patterns of the Dave Robicheaux series. Sorry to say, but as much as I like the guy Dave, the ex-alcoholic liberal catholic with the permanently changing and permanently endangered family and the outbursts of violent behaviour, I think his sidekick Clete is too much of a compromise to the requirements of the action genre. Also, the habit of creating a new super evil monster, here called Ronald (my name is Ronald, what is yours?) again and again is a bit tiring. Same goes for the repetitive versions of the dominant gangster bosses with the human touch and the normal wives. Why is it, by the way, that Dave seems to know all gangsters from either childhood or from Vietnam? Is Louisiana that small? (As Clete said previously, Louisiana is not part of the US, but of Central America.)
Luckily in this volume of the series Burke has not indulged in his other repetitive topic, the decadent old money family with a French name.
Burke's tendency to racial fairness has also caused him to create a rather unbelievable version of a bad guy's remorse: the man Bertrand, rapist, robber, killer, is just over the top in his clumsily repentant attempts at atonement.
All in all, if you stop reading half way through, this is a very good fictional account of Katrina. If you read it all the way, it loses due to its overload with cliches.

The great novelist Ed McBain once told me that every mystery needs a corpse in the first few pages or somebody about to become a corpse. In THE TIN ROOF BLOWDOWN, James Lee Burke put his corpse on page 2. His longtime protagonist, New Iberia detective Dave Robicheaux, awakens from a nightmare about his days in Vietnam.

Robicheaux says, "When I go back to sleep, I once again tell myself I will never again have to witness the wide-scale suffering of innocent civilians, nor the betrayal and abandonment of our countrymen when they need us 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. That was before one of the most beautiful cities in the Western Hemisphere was killed three times, and not just by the forces of nature."

Art reflects the world and time in which it is created. At its greatest, art can tell the truth about suffering and dying in a way that journalism never can. Think of Picasso's Guernica. No American novelist is more closely associated with New Orleans than James Lee Burke. THE TIN ROOF BLOWDOWN is one of his greatest, darkest works. He has managed to build a gripping suspense story around one of America's worst moments and take readers on a harrowing journey into the heart of the country's darkness.

The Robicheaux stories have always been an elegy to the lost world of South Louisiana. Those were the days, Burke writes, of "duck-hunting dawns and summer-afternoon crab boils in a shady pavilion and college dances on Spanish Lake under oak trees that were strung with Japanese lanterns."

One of the most fascinating features of this series is the highly damaged character of Robicheaux that Burke has created over the past 20 years. Robicheaux is a recovering alcoholic struggling to stay sober, a man who has seen too much of the darkness and is angst-ridden and haunted by it. Yet he is a good man, constantly seeking redemption. As his wife and ex-nun, Molly, says at one point in this book: "You take on other people's suffering without their ever asking. Your greatest virtue is your greatest weakness." Here, he will be tested as never before. "It was a season of death," Burke writes.

The novel starts with Robicheaux concerned about a childhood friend, a dying, junkie priest named Jude LeBlanc. Father LeBlanc sets off on a suicide redemption mission of his own, commandeering a boat and trying, armed only with an ax, to rescue people trapped in a church attic as the water rises in the Lower Ninth Ward.

That is the last anybody sees of the priest; the people in the attic all drowned. Later, uptown, four young looters sail into a rich neighborhood on a boat. It just so happens they chose a fateful street. On one side lives a man, Otis Baylor, whose teenage daughter was brutally gang-raped by men fitting the description of the looters. They were never caught by the police. Otis owns a high-powered sniper rifle.

Soon, one looter is shot dead in the water and another is left paralyzed by a bullet through the throat. Before that happens, the looters make another fatal mistake --- they loot and trash the deserted home of a brutal local crime boss, stumbling upon a stash of blood diamonds worth millions. One of the looters escapes in the boat with his critically injured brother and the valuable stones.

With law enforcement stretched thin, Robicheaux is assigned to the murder, with all evidence pointing to the father of the raped girl as the culprit. But the story soon revolves around the diamonds. The mob boss, who has a reputation for settling scores by using a chainsaw on his enemies, wants them back.

Then two mysterious mercenaries known for their expertise in "interrogation," which is the government euphemism these days for torture, appear on the scene, joining the hunt for the stones. Are they working for the mob or the federal government? Is there a link between the stones and terrorists?

One of these mystery men, Ronald Bledsoe, is among the most chilling characters Burke ever invented. He is a man of pure evil who quickly takes a leering interest in Robicheaux's adopted daughter, Alafair. Robicheaux not only has to try to solve the case but also protect his family from a psychopath. At the same time, the detective must avoid becoming the evil he is fighting.

Of course, he has the help of another damaged series regular, Clete Purcell, who is described as "a beer soaked blue-collar knight errant."

Katrina is the most ominous character in this book because it was real. Burke shows us scenes of the storm's aftermath: bodies of old people left to rot in the streets by the city's convention center and survivors smashing their china to bits upon learning that their insurance companies will not cover water damage. And of course, there is the grim ghost of the Ninth Ward of Orleans Parish, still in ruins two years later.

Burke writes, "The topography, the windowless houses, the layers of building debris and garbage and dried flotsam did not look real but instead resembled a movie set or perhaps scenes spliced together from World War II black and white footage of a bombed-out city, leached of color, the only light provided by cook fires wavering under sheets of corrugated tin the remaining residents had propped across cinder blocks or stacks of bricks."

Burke has written a first-rate, engaging mystery in THE TIN ROOF BLOWDOWN. But he has also accomplished something far greater. He has penned an angry and sad book about the murder of an American city, about a time when we saw, in his words, "an American city turned into Baghdad on the southern rim of the United States."

What is really sad is that it was not just the forces of nature that did it. New Orleans also was victimized by the man-made forces of neglect, indifference, racism, greed and lies. And that is the real heart of darkness Burke exposes here. But he also shows us that the quest for redemption, even among the most badly damaged souls, can be never-ceasing and a thing of beauty and hope in its own right. The ending of this book will stay with you for a long time.

--- Reviewed by Tom Callahan

"The Tin Roof Blowdown" is the book I've been waiting for since late 2005. One of the first things that came to my mind after the destruction of Hurricane Katrina was the fictional life of Dave Robicheaux. Over the years, James Lee Burke has captured a world that's rich and believable, allowing readers far and wide to experience the beauty and anguish of the Big Sle azy. He's set standards in the mystery genre that few can match. How would he handle this seminal disaster?

The first half of the book seems headed for a Pulitzer Prize--and would be worthy of it!--showing the political and social collapse of a region. Through Robicheaux's eyes, we also find pockets of grace and rays of hope. The plot centers around a group of looters who fall victim to a vigilante's rifle. Earlier, these same men had taken advantage of a young woman in ways that would scar her for life, and they'd left a priest and others to drown in the murky floodwaters. Robicheaux investigates, trying to determine the identity of the vigilante, but only immersing himself in the dirty deeds of Louisiana crime, politics, and religion. His own inner demons are more tame than usual, yet he still has Clete Purcel to deal with, and fierce protective instincts for his wife, Molly, and his grown daughter, Alafair.

As usual, Burke paints pictures that stick with us--ugliness and pain, as well as mercy and wisdom. The sights and smells of the downtrodden city are brought to life. The emotional weight of those devastating days are vividly portrayed. "The Tin Roof Blowdown" is a masterpiece in its depiction of Katrina and New Orleans. Only in the book's second half does it lose some steam while the plots backtracks and circles, until Burke allows his characters to find rest. The final scene provides a metaphor of brokenness and mercy, one that rings true on a number of levels.

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.

The fictional parts of The Tin Roof Blowdown pale in comparison with the factual references in the book to the horrible disasters that befell those who lived in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina blasted its way across those vulnerable levees. Building on that apocalyptic event, we see souls stripped to their cores . . . revealing much that is normally hidden during "civilized" times. James Lee Burke has written one of the most powerful novels I've ever read about how troubles bring out whatever is in us.

Mr. Burke does a marvelous job of capturing the shifting emotions of those who lived through the experience. Many began by being optimistic that things would not be too bad. Others saw the storm as an opportunity for gain. But soon, the caring were overwhelmed by the horrible dangers being faced by the vulnerable. With unending challenges, emotions became dulled through fatigue. After a little rest, the civilized veneer began to return and people were outraged by the excesses. As the implications of all the harm sunk in, people just wanted to forget about it. Those who had felt something for the victims eventually go back to looking out for themselves. No one knows what really happened to most of the victims . . . other than that they were abandoned by those who might have helped them. It's a time of infamy in American history . . . especially since we did it to ourselves.

As the book opens, Dave Robicheaux's friend, Clete Purcel is looking to recover some cons who have skipped bail. Jude LeBlanc, a priest who is dying of cancer, heads by bus for a date with destiny in the lower end of New Orleans' Ninth Ward. Otis Baylor, a self-satisfied insurance agent, is planning to sit out the storm in comfort with his family thanks to his generators. Baylor's neighbor, the export-import businessman Tom Claggart, is expecting to have to defend his property from "the black Irish" after nightfall. Dave Robicheaux is loaned to New Orleans for the duration. Soon, the storm will mix these lives in new ways.

Then, all hell breaks loose. People have to face their worst fears . . . and beyond. What will they do?

The consequences of those actions reverberate through each person's life . . . and those they hold nearest and dearest. The complications develop as each one seeks to either restore what has been lost . . . or to gain something that's not deserved.

Meanwhile, some valuables are missing. Naturally, there's a scramble to recover the missing items. That scramble brings the worst sort of people out of the woodwork and the worst out of those who are searching. Dave finds himself personally drawn into the drama as one of the searchers develops a yen to hurt Alafair, his daughter.

There are a lot of unexpected dimensions in this story. That's what makes this a special book. Occasionally, Mr. Burke gives in to describing what we expect. It's in those rare moments that the power of originality in The Tin Roof Blowdown will hit you.

Keep your heart pure!

It was a difficult one to read. One doesn't read James Lee Burke just for the story, and in this case the story was almost incidental to Burke's descriptions of the events before, during and after Hurricane Katrina. Hot damn the man can write. Harrowing, maddening, depressing and still filled with the energy that make Burke's writing unique for me. Burke writes what he knows, and I believe him when he does. I've been a fan since first reading "Black Cherry Blues" almost 18 years ago. I knew he was special then, and then came "In the Electric Mist With Confederate Dead" and "Dixie City Jam", two high points in his career IMHO. The ones in between those and this latest one have varied in quality, but they've never been boring. His talent warrants consideration outside of the mystery/thriller genre, and this one deserves some kind of award for excellence in writing. Oh, and a word to the whiners, if you don't like his politics, don't read him. There are plenty of us who will. And re-read him, too.

I was attracted to this book, my first Dave Robicheaux novel, by the promise of its unsparing examination of Katrina and its aftermath and by the two Edgar Awards the series has collected. The book keeps the promise.

James Lee Burke is the Raymond Chandler of the South and Robicheaux is his Marlowe, half a century later and indigenous to a different classic American city. Like Marlowe, Robicheaux is an eloquent, emotive hero with a literary sophistication belying his appearance as a mere Detective. He acts with a heroic nobility, moving through a dark world of innocents and demons, while unravelling a mystery according to his own moral code. He is quiet, powerful, tough, smart and uncorruptable, yet damaged by life in a way that makes him always, to some extent, alone (though Robicheaux, unlike Marlowe, has a family and is able to work for a boss in the police department).

Burke's New Orleans is actually not quite as dark or corrupt as Chandler's Los Angeles, but he successfully brings the description of human corruption, greed, cruelty and soullessness to bear persuasively and seemlessly on the events of Katrina. The book succeeds completely on this level.

The only area in which the book does not quite measure up to the very tough Chandler yardstick is in the quality of the mystery. It has all the necessary layers and characters, but is less-well disguised and surprising. More disappointingly, in this book at least, Burke resorts to the device of the sadist-genius-out-to-get-the-hero-and-his-loved-ones device that authors such as James Patterson and John Sandford use to keep readers flipping pages. Such cardboard villans have no place in the true discussions of human nature that are the running theme of a Philip Marlowe novel and much of this one, nor is the plot device worthy of the carefully woven storytelling.

All-in-all, though, the book delivers everything its reviews promise. Highly recommended.

I downloaded this book from Audible to have something to listen to while I painted 200 linear feet of basement wall. After only a couple chapters of listening to Will Patton's exquisitely nuanced and spellbinding reading of the book, I was totally hooked. I had never read or listened to a James Burke book before so I wasn't sure what to expect. While the book has enough violence to make Rambo cringe, it is the masterful weaving together of the plot, the compelling and heart-breaking descriptions of post-Katrina southern Louisiana, particularly New Orleans, and the lyrical nature of Burke's prose that make it so much more than just a "good read." Detective Dave Robicheaux's harsh examination of his own myriad flaws, including an atavistic inclination for violence, and running commentary on the nature of man, particularly when societal checks and balances are literally washed and blown away, should give any sensate reader or listener serious pause--and maybe even goose bumps. What kind of person would you become in the aftermath of your own personal Katrina? Think about it....