I don't know who is tagging all these books with "a humorous New Orleans mystery" and other subtitles of the same ilk. I have had to disagree with almost all of them. This is not funny story. For a funny murder mystery read Donna Andrews and her "bird" books. The juxtaposition of humor and horror is a time-honored literary device; the contrast heightens the effect. I first became aware of it in college when I was involved in a production of "La Boheme" (much, much later adapted into the musical "Rent"). In the original there is a scene where the starving artists in their garret are celebrating the sale of a painting with wine, food, and (in our production) a mock battle with paintbrushes and such as swords. In the midst of all that there is a knock on the door, and they find Mimi lying on the step at the point of death. Maybe that is a little extreme an example, but the fact that a competent writer uses the device does not make the book humorous. Besides, who wants to read a story that is grim and morbid all the time - maybe that is why the Matthew Scudder stories by Block are so short ---
Maybe the idiot at Amazon just thought the idea of a performing poet becoming a PI was so hysterically funny that it had to be a humorous story. New Orleans, "the city that care forgot," isn't a funny city either. Smith does a remarkable job of dealing with the contrasts and contradictions of the place. Obvious example: to most of the world, Mardi Gras in New Orleans is the party to end all parties; to the level of New Orleans society that is throwing the party, it is a deadly serious business. In fact, it is a major business in New Orleans, as Carnevale is in Venice. Those floats are not thrown together over a weekend by a bunch of college students fortified by a keg of beer. The costumes come with a ticket price that puts haut couture to shame. And at the same time New Orleans is a genuine modern city with one of the gulf coast's busiest ports. Okay, rant over.
This was fun (NOT funny) and old friend Skip Langdon slips in around the edges - although I don't recall being informed of exactly how she and Talba got to be such good friends. Still, every PI needs a police contact, so we will let that pass. And Talba Wallis in her persona as The Baronesse de Pontalba is a working poet. It must be fairly obvious that a working poet must have a day job, so since, in addition to being curious to the core, she is a self-confessed computer hotshot, Talba seems to herself, at least, an ideal candidate for a position advertised for an assistant PI. And Smith is off again crossing the lines of New Orleans society.
The case is brutal. A predator is working the middle class private school set for young girls. Smith sets up an appealing running cast, at least I hope they all hang around. Talba's mother, Miz Clara, is a tough lady who is crazy about Talba's boyfriend, Darryl. Darryl's day job is as a teacher and counselor at the school attended by one of the victims. By night he is a member of one of the best and best-known jazz bands in the city. Talba's new boss, Eddie Valentino is a former cop and self-identified tough guy, who is absolute putty in the hands of his wife and prosecuting attorney daughter.
For a first book in a series, it holds together well - although there is an awful lot going on. The theme is family - the families of the victimized girls, Eddie's exiled son, and Talba's own feud with her brother, even the family of the predator. To Smith's credit, she resolves all these loose ends rather than leaving some of them hanging as a lure to the next book. I suppose, on consideration, that family is one of Smith's persistent things; it is certainly a standing issue in the Skip Langdon books. Must be a New Orleans thing.
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