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Cette dixième aventure de Dave Robicheaux dans la luxuriante et flamboyante Louisiane du Sud met en exergue la faute de toute une population qui s'est tue par lâcheté, faiblesse et compromissions, portant ainsi le sceau du crime collectif. Ce récit violent mais empreint d'humanisme porte quant à lui le sceau d'un écrivain brillant et fécond. --Claude Mesplède
432 pages, Pocket Book
First published January 1, 1998
I had seen a dawn like this one only twice in my life: once in Vietnam, when a Bouncing Betty had risen from the earth on a night trail and twisted its tentacles of light around my thighs, and years earlier outside of Franklin, Louisiana, when my father and I discovered the body of a labor organizer who had been crucified with sixteen-penny nails, ankle and wrist, against a barn wall.
“You got a lot of brass,” I said to him.One thing that characterizes a Dave Robicheaux novel is the tendency of its hero, along with his friend Clete Purcel, a former New Orleans police officer, to confront evil head on, with intensity and frequency.
“Not really. Since I don’t think your bunch [the police] could drink piss out of a boot with the instructions printed on the heel,” [Harpo] replied. He unscrewed the cork in the mescal bottle with a squeak and tipped another shot into his glass.