Flags on the bayou A novel

Burke, author of the Dave Robicheaux series, among many other books, steps away from crime fiction and transports readers back to 1863 in Louisiana, which seceded from the Union a couple of years earlier and is now under pressure from the Union Army. Against this backdrop, which Burke paints in vivid detail, we follow an array of characters. Wade Lufkin, from a prosperous family, clashes with lawman Pierre Cauchon. Hannah Laveau, a young, enslaved Creole woman, is determined to find her son, from whom she was separated during the Battle of Shiloh; she's also suspected of murdering a plantation owner. Abolitionist Colonel Carleton Hayes offers to help the Lufkin family defend their plantation from the Union invaders. And Florence Milton, a good woman with a dark streak, helps Hannah in fleeing from jail. Their stories interweave, creating a tapestry of the Civil War seen from various perspectives. The writing is lush and lavishly descriptive in its evocation of this very specific time and place. Some of the language might be offensive since Burke deliberately uses historically accurate terminology to describe the enslaved and other people, but to do otherwise would violate the truth of this Civil War story. A remarkable, beautiful, edgy, and haunting novel.

Set in Louisiana toward the end of the Civil War, this outstanding thriller from Edgar winner Burke (the Dave Robicheaux series) explores the corrosive effects of violence. In late 1863, Louisiana is largely under Union control, though bands of marauding Confederate soldiers roam the countryside. Hannah Laveau, an enslaved woman reputed to be related to a notorious voodoo priestess, stands accused of murdering the sadistic plantation owner who assaulted her. In jail, she meets abolitionist schoolteacher Florence Milton, who takes Hannah under her wing. Eventually, the two women escape. On the run from slave catchers and a constable who doggedly pursues them, Hannah and Florence make their way across the devastated state. The chorus of narrators who recount the pair's adventures includes Wade Lufkin, an artist and surgeon's assistant haunted by the Union soldier he killed during battle, who crosses paths with the women and falls in love with Hannah. Burke stitches plot threads and historical details with ease, weaving it all into an urgent, propulsive story steeped in his deep personal connections to Louisiana. This is masterful. Agent: Anne-Lise Spitzer, Philip Spitzer Literary. (July)

The Civil War comes to New Iberia, Louisiana, the capital of Burke's wondrous fictional empire. Seriously in debt to business associate Minos Suarez, Charles Lufkin rents him Hannah Laveau, an enslaved woman he's recently purchased. Things don't go well for either Hannah, whom Suarez unmercifully assaults, or Suarez, who's found castrated with his throat cut shortly after Hannah parts company with him. Just as Hannah is haunted by Samuel, the son from whom she was separated during the bloody Union attack on Shiloh Church, Lufkin's nephew, Wade, who volunteered as a medical officer on the condition that he wouldn't have to fight, is haunted by the Union officer he killed. Pierre Cauchon, the local "oversight constable for Negro legal problems" who's already tangled with his own devils, soon comes up against another two officers on opposing sides of the conflict. Confederate Col. Carleton Hayes is a self-described man of "egalitarian views" who's hanged a number of abolitionists and would like to hang more. Union officer Capt. John Endicott's enfilade at Shiloh Church left Cauchon traumatized but, unlike so many of his other comrades, still alive. As schoolmistress Florence Milton takes Hannah under her wing and goes into hiding with her, Wade Lufkin challenges Cauchon to a duel with an unexpected result. All the while, conflicts rage between the two sides in the war, between ostensible allies on either side, and within every single character. In his closing acknowledgments, Burke indicates that he considers this novel his very best. Even readers who find themselves swamped by all the calamities of war may well agree that it's his most probing examination of the enduring legacy of slavery. A grueling, compassionate demonstration that "the devil ain't down in a fiery pit. He's right here." Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.