I can't believe no-one else has reviewed this yet. I first read this book as a student, way back in 1990. For me, it was discovering great, stand-out writing for the first time. In a strange sort of book-snobbish way, it's horrible that James Lee Burke gets filed under "Crime Fiction" next to Agatha Christie. This man has a poetic tilt to his writing that lifts it so far above being categorised in a genre. About 15 or so pages in, our main protagonist has a life or death experience, and the author's writing genuinely grabs hold of you and won't let go. The book goes on to be a terrific thriller, with magnficient portraits of New Orleans, both the glitz, and the seamy underbelly. It has plenty of musing about human frailty, drink, greed, pride and violence. And it's so good, it'll be one of the best books you ever read. As if that's not enough, I believe I read this is the book that inspired Michael Connelly to have a stab at writing fiction - 'nuff said.