Andrew Smith's Reviews > Clete: A Dave Robicheaux Novel

I finished reading this book some days ago, and ever since I’ve been ruminating on what I think of it. To start with, it’s fair to say that JLB has long been the writer who excites me and drags me into a story to a greater extent than any other. His descriptions of place and people are, I believe, peerless. His tales are about good versus evil, though even the good people in his books have significant flaws. The bad are as grim and malevolently violent as any I’ve come across in literature or film. It’s this clash, this sublime contest, that I’ve found totally compelling for thirty years or more. But in recent years, Burke has started to introduce paranormal elements increasingly, his characters having visions of events and of people that make no sense in everyday life. It’s this trend in his writing that gives me pause.

The author’s Dave Robicheaux novels are probably my favourites, set mainly in Southern Louisiana settings that Burke describes so brilliantly and with such personal loving. Robicheaux, a sometimes lawman, is usually accompanied by his best friend and ex-partner in the NOPD, Clete Purcell. Dave can sometimes lose it and snap into acts of extreme violence, but Clete takes this to another level: one minute, creating mayhem and the next cracking wise with a comment that has me laughing out loud. To date, these books have focused on events as seen through the eyes of Robicheaux, but this time it’s through Clete that we watch events unfold. To me, this was like looking at the world through tinted lenses: things look as they always did, but at the same time, they seem different. It was intriguing to see the world through the eyes of Purcell for the first time and to obtain insight into his inner thoughts on life and also on Dave.

The story itself takes us back quite a few years. At this point, Clete was a private investigator based in New Orleans, and Dave was a police officer working out of New Iberia. Clete has a bad experience shortly after having his car returned from a car wash owned by an old friend. He wakes in the night to find a bunch of men stripping down his lovingly restored Cadillac. A violent exchange ensues, with Clete winding up on the wrong end of a beating. It seems that the men were looking for a stash of super-charged Fentanyl that had been planted in Clete’s car by mistake. Dave is soon on the scene, and the pair attempt to track down those responsible with a view to dispensing their own form of justice.

So far, so good. But then Clete begins to receive visits from a historical figure from 15th century France, who seems intent on passing him messages. The meanings are often obscure, and it’s at this point that I started to struggle with a meandering narrative, which sometimes bordered on incomprehensible. Are these visions a result of the beating Clete took? It’s not clear. But as the story plays out it’s fair to say that the plotline doesn’t really function without these interventions. Such elements have occasionally surfaced in even Burke's early books, but they’re much more prevalent of late. I’m not sure why this is. It’s been suggested to me that it’s a result of Burke’s age (he’s 87 years old) and therefore facing what are most likely the last years of his life. This might be so, and perhaps I’ll understand this more as I steadily make my way to the same place.

As a piece of writing it’s first class, and the book is well worth reading to experience the superb way JLB is able to put sentences together in a way I think no other writer can. But as a story it’s flawed, difficult to follow, and fairly predictable in how it’s going to end. However, it’s Dave and Clete, and I’d happily open a new book every day to read another adventure featuring this pair.

My thanks to Grove Atlantic for supplying a copy of this book via NetGalley in return for an honest review.