Heath Lowrance's City of Heretics is set in Memphis, Tennessee, and stars Crowe, a weathered ex-con, just released from a seven year stretch in prison, who gets caught back up in the seedy underbelly that got him sent away. The Old Man, who called all the shots, with Crowe as his left fist, is dead, and a new boss, Vitower, gives Crowe a job - to kill Peter Murke, a serial killer from a bizarre religious cult. And it seems that the only one singing the blues in Memphis this story is Crowe himself.
I enjoyed Lowrance's treatment of Crowe. He's not some kind of anti-hero, reluctantly drawn into a life of crime when he just wanted to get straight. No, nothing like that. Crowe was muscle before he went in, and he was muscle when he got out. He's made only slightly admirable when contrasted with all the other scum of Memphis. He also isn't some idealized bruiser, impervious to pain, impervious to having been locked up and out of his game a bit. And one the unique ways that Lowrence plays Crowe is in the fact that you are constantly hoping for more from him, but his every word, his actions, just show you what you should expect from a man like Crowe. It's realism in the flesh.
Lowrence's style is concrete; description through detail, no flowery tangents or prolonged metaphors. It's street. Now, given the title, City of Heretics, you expect a statement on religion. And the story makes a statement. But, and this is so important, the statement does not make the story.