The Tin Roof Blowdown – James Lee Burke

The overwhelmingly melancholy tone of James Lee Burke’s latest novel, The Tin Roof Blowdown, seems especially apt given both its subject matter, the destruction of New Orleans, and the late middle age of his protagonist, Dave Robicheaux. Set in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, a natural phenomenon that served to reveal government indifference to the plight of the poor, the selfishness, brutality and callousness of the citizenry, and the noblest responses humanity is capable of, the novel explores the themes typical of Burke’s works: greed, depravity, violence, and the always tantalizing possibility of redemption.

Burke is at his narrative best, telling a story that begins with a seemingly routine looting of a flood-ravaged home by four black men, Bertrand and Eddy Melanchon, their cousin Andre Rochon, and Rochon’s nephew, Kevin. However, owing to both the ownership of the house and what has been stolen, as well as a sudden explosion of violence, the crime turns out to be anything but routine, and has far-reaching consequences for all of the story’s principals: an insurance adjuster, Otis Baylor, whose daughter Thelma previously suffered a traumatizing assault; the wife of the adjuster, Melanie; Dave’s longtime friend Clete Purcell as well as Dave and his family – wife Molly and daughter Alafair.

The usual masterful elements of Burke’s plot and characterization are present in this engrossing tale, but there is also something more: the pervasive imagery of death and mortality. There is, for all intents and purposes, the death of New Orleans, the great city which holds the key to much of Dave’s past and identity. As well, in addition to graphic depictions of violence and death, there is a new element: a distinct sense of Dave’s mortality. Throughout the entire series of Robicheaux novels, readers have always understood the precariousness of his existence arising from the war between his self-destructive tendencies and his nobler impulses, as well as the violent world he inhabits as a law-enforcement officer. This time, however, there are more overt musings on time winding down. Consider the following passage, as Clete tells Dave about a dream he had:

I was walking in a woods and I could smell fall in the air. There were leaves and mushrooms all over the ground, and air vines were hanging from the trees. When I came out of the woods, you were standing on the edge of a stream with a suitcase by your foot, like you were about to go on a trip. You said, ‘You walked over a grave, Clete. Didn’t you see it?’ Then you waded into the water.

The connotation of his dream made something drop in my chest, like a stone tumbling down a wall.

‘What do you think it means?’ he said.

‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘Dreams are just dreams.’

Throughout his entire writing career, James Lee Burke has required that his readers confront the realities of life, both bad and good. Acknowledging the finitude of life is just one more of those realities, but one cannot help but wonder if the author is also telling us about his plans for the literary fate of his aging protagonist, Dave Robicheaux.