My Year of Mardi Gras

A CUTTING ACCOUNT OF NEW ORLEANS POLICE & POLITICIANS

The Axman of New Orleans

by Chuck Hustmyre

An axman loose in New Orleans brutally murdering citizens in their beds and the police don’t have a clue . . . or worse, don’t want him caught? This may sound like the sort of grisly serial killer fiction that springs from the imaginations of James Patterson or Patricia Cornwell, but this novel is actually historical fiction based on a series of unsolved attacks that terrorized New Orleans from 1911 to 1919.

I’ve said in previous reviews that I’m not a huge consumer of genre fiction, but I met Chuck Hustmyre at a recent Reading Between the Wines event sponsored by Fleur de Lit and was intrigued when he offered a review copy. A former federal agent, Hustmyre confessed to teaching himself to write by reading books from Barnes & Nobles. Kudos to his initiative, for he has gone on to have great success publishing countless articles, several screenplays, and books of true crime fiction including Killer With A Badge, a story of a killer within NOPD  for which, surprisingly, NOPD wasn’t completely cooperative in turning over records. When he stumbled upon the Axman Murders during research, he was intrigued by this seldom mentioned menace who has been described as the American Jack the Ripper (someone even sent a similar letter to local papers although it can’t be proved it was the killer or a hoax). His plans to write a non-fiction account, however, were thwarted when Katrina wiped out so many public records (though many facts are of public record such as the Tulane fraternity that printed a rebuttal inviting the axman to visit, promising to leave a window open so he wouldn’t damage the front door).

Writing The Axman of New Orleans as historic fiction, however, has its advantages. It allows the author to create two strong central characters, a brave but jaded cop and a relentless reporter, both of whose fathers died tragically–perhaps as part of the conspiracy that weaves through the story. It also allows Hustmyre to draw conclusions from informed speculation that could only be presented as conjecture otherwise. With this creative freedom, the author paints a picture of local police and political corruption that would be difficult to prove but is frightening in the hypothetical. It also allows him to center his story around the strongest suspect that emerged after the killings stopped.  Although involvement was never proved, the coincidences surrounding his life and death are intriguing, providing the author a firm anchor to ground his speculative tale.

In the end, the uncertainty of historical fiction is frustratingly enticing. This book may have lost me early if simply sensational and exploitative fabrication. If it were non-fiction, I would have vetted the reliability of the author and either accepted or rejected his thesis and moved on. With historical fiction, though, like ‘based on reality’ Hollywood movies, I find myself tormented wondering what is truth and what is fiction. It can be vexing but it keeps your attention, and Hustmyre does a great job keeping the reader engaged.

In fact, a more subtle title and cover may have done the book a service, for both seem to detract from the book’s craft. Although not glittering literary prose, Hustmyre’s language is stark and raw rather than histrionic as the cover and title may insinuate. Hustmyer obviously learned the lessons of idol Elmore Leonard. At times he can over-describe. His background in law enforcement provides great insight into  process but occasionally waxes so didactic that it breaks through the ‘fourth wall’ of suspended disbelief. The structure of chapters alternating between present-tense first-person and flashback third-person is confusing at first and sometimes makes it difficult to follow the flow of events. There are multiple victims, a growing stable of characters, and a complex conspiracy so it is difficult to keep it all straight. Although I enjoyed the book, it wasn’t one I’ll pick up and immediately read again, yet to fully fit the pieces together it warrants a second read.

Despite a few small flaws, though, I thoroughly enjoyed The Axman of New Orleans. It didn’t open my eyes or change my perspective on New Orleans like some of the great books I’ve read, but it’s also not dumbed down or insulting like so much easily digestible mainstream genre fiction. The climax packs an emotional and tragic punch that lands because the characters, while not wildly original, rise far enough above cliché to make you care, and the ending is satisfying. The ultimate reason I’m not a big genre fiction fan is that I nearly always feel let down by the ending (I was told I absolutely had to read The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo only to find it one of the most meandering, drawn-out, and ridiculous let-downs ever). I wasn’t blown away or left stunned, but nor did I feel cheated even though I felt like it was somewhat apparent where things were going. We knew the suspects, we just weren’t sure of their motives and connections to one another.

In the end, the strengths of The Axman of New Orleans far outweight its deficiencies. It is strong enough to appeal to a fringe crossover literary crowd and a sure thing for lovers of true crime, mystery, and serial killer fiction.

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THIS LITERARY LIGHT OF MINE

Fleur de Lit

For today’s Read Beans On Monday I’m linking to a couple of reviews by local blogger and literary advocate Candice Huber. I stumbled on her site, Fleur de Lit, a few weeks ago and it’s already been a great resource that has turned me on to several local events and enabled me to network with a few local authors.

http://fleurdelit.com/

This site attempts to create a comprehensive list of local readings, book signings, book fairs, and other literary focused events. Fleur de Lit has also started a monthly reading series of its own at The Pearl Wine Company: Reading Between the Wines. Be sure to check out the site for dates, times, and locations.

Huber also maintains a personal blog where she has started including book reviews of her own. Her first two entries are by local authors and involve New Orleans or southern Louisiana so fit perfectly with this blog’s theme.

The Booklovers’s Guide to New Orleans, Susan Larson

This book sounds like part literary history of and part literary tour guide to New Orleans by the popular local NPR host of The Reading Life, Susan Larson. It sounds fascinating and I hope to review it myself soon. In fact, it sounds like a book I should have read nine months ago!

Night of the Comet, George Bishop

This story set in rural southern Louisiana is starting to garner national attention, telling the story of a high school science teacher who stakes his reputation on the promise of a comet and his bookworm son. Huber has high praise for its pathos and relatability.

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FLOATING AIMLESSLY ALONG BAYOU ST. JOHN

My Bayou: New Orleans Through the Eyes of a Lover

by Constance Adler

My Bayou is a difficult book for me to review. I don’t like to focus on the negative, and this book certainly wasn’t without merit. Constance Adler is a skilled writer and there were times her reflections on life in New Orleans centering on her strolls along Bayou St. John intellectually intrigued me and other times where they emotionally moved me, yet for large stretches they also left me cold. Part of this was audience–I’m pretty sure I’m not her primary target–but part of it was the haphazard, wandering nature of her reflections. Adler is also an accomplished blogger, so it bothered me that I didn’t like this book because of the meandering format. The book struck me as a blog bound together in book form, though I’d like to think–hell, desperately hope–that this transition can be accomplished more naturally.

My Bayou opens with [Read more…]

THE DOWN & DIRTY ON UPSCALE DINING

Prime

by Poppy Z. Brite

Poppy Z. Brite is a popular New Orleans author who, following in the footsteps of Ann Rice, came to popularity with homo-erotic horror stories often involving vampires, though apparently upping the ante on violence, weirdness, and explicit scenes. Or so I hear. I wasn’t familiar with Brite until recommended by friend and native Chris Tusa, and when I headed to the library, one of the books that abandons horror for the gritty realism of the New Orleans restaurant world, Prime, was his only book available. (We’ll use the masculine pronoun per the author’s preference, as the issue of Brite’s gender identification is a story unto itself and doesn’t concern me.) After a long-term relationship with a local chef, Brite was apparently fascinated with the inner working and dirty underbelly of the local fine dining scene, and though I stumbled into this work blindly, it ended up being a great choice and compelling portrait of this unseen side of New Orleans.

Prime, it turns out, is [Read more…]