James Lee Burke's Dave Robicheaux series has always included a certain level of mysticism, whether Louisiana Voodoo or medieval arcane, and though he constantly questions the source of his faith, Robicheaux's deeply religious beliefs. A flawed man, Robicheaux is a recovering alcoholic with a paradoxical anger problem, he is still a southern gentleman who will tip his hat, address all women by "miss", and beat the crap out of anyone showing disrespect to a female. He's an intuitive detective with a vast knowledge of history, religion, the arts, and his beloved south, specifically Louisiana. He's a renaissance man with a badge. Burke's lush and evocative writing makes the stories, though always dark and intense, that much more complex.
But...
I don't know long it took me to figure out this book takes place in the past, sometime after Bootsie's death but before his marriage to Molly, with Alafair still in college, and Tripod (bless his heart) is still alive. I was confused by the references to his two dead wives (weren't there 3?) and the use of cell phones. And it took me even longer to recognize that as the book was building in intensity so was the weather, which finally gave me a timeframe: right before Hurricane Katrina. That was a minor quibble on my part.
However...
I was never sure what this book was about. It had the usual ultra-rich, old money families, the usual out of control violence, the usual alcoholic longings and dry drunk episodes, the usual Clete trying to destroy himself and take the world with him, and the usual (almost overdone) colloquialisms-both southern and tough guy detective-type. In A Private Cathedral, it seems like Dave is trying to save a teenaged girl who has been sold from her wealthy family to a rich racist pedophile, and no one cares but Dave. There's a time-traveling reptilian assassin with superhuman powers (no joke). Dave is disappointingly dimwitted and absurdly foolish when it comes to the women he chooses to sleep with this time (I actually yelled, "You moron!"). Somehow, despite his all-encompassing alcoholic pastime, Clete can still afford two offices, one in the French Quarter. Dave revisits a lot of his childhood and past relationships and possible relatives and remains ageless (I think he's in his 60's in this one). But I'm still not sure what the book was about.
Yeah, I appreciate Burke's beautiful writing and deep philosophical ponderings, and I absolutely love Dave, I can never get enough of Clete, but I found myself drifting a few times. Yeah, I caught the time traveling assassin/travel back in Dave's life thing. And, yeah, I definitely know who that "rich-boy gutter rat with ties to the Russian mafia" is. But no amount of Dr. Pepper with shaved ice and cherries, or Po' Boy shrimp sandwiches, or Four O'clocks, Wisteria or Live Oaks dripping with Spanish moss could keep me focused. I felt let down by his last novel, New Iberia Blues, and was sure it was Burke's swan song, but this was just a head scratcher for me.
Will I read the next book? I have an affinity towards flawed recovering alcoholics who try to flush a guy's head down the toilet while wooing the man's wife, so yes, of course I will.
(A big thank you to Netgalley for providing me with an ARC of A Private Cathedral in exchange for a fair review.)