The Hadacol Boogie by James Lee Burke

Published by Atlantic Crime on February 10, 2026

Supernatural events have been part of the Robicheaux universe for more than thirty years. While I’m not usually a fan of supernatural fiction, I understand the temptation of crime writers to explain evil by suggesting its origin in the depths of hell. I always admire James Lee Burke’s prose and enjoy his storytelling, but his resort to the supernatural in The Hadacol Boogie gives me the sense that I’ve read the novel before.

The novel is set at “the end of the twentieth century.” Dave Robicheaux and Clete Purcell are Vietnam veterans who have been shaped by the horrors of that war. Shortly after the novel opens, kids in a boat see a tall ugly man whose hair seems to be made of sticks dragging a garbage bag across Dave’s property. Dave finds the bag and opens it to discover the lifeless body of a young black woman, a guitar string embedded in her throat.

Dave suspects that a handyman left the body on his property but does not attribute the woman’s death to him. The handyman, Boone Hendrix, claims to see dead people walking, but this is nothing new to Dave and Clete. Clete believes he communes with Joan of Arc, so Hendrix is no crazier than Dave’s best friend. Whether Hendrix calls upon supernatural powers to kill bad guys is an open question by the novel’s end.

The dead woman is Clemmie Benoit, who shares a last name with Dave’s new deputy sheriff, Valerie Benoit. For reasons that are never clear or convincing, Valerie is cagey about her relationship with Clemmie. Dave’s daughter Alafair knew Clemmy when they were both members of an amateur acting group, but she also seems reluctant to discuss their friendship. Their acquaintance foreshadows the danger that Alafair will eventually face as Dave tries to track down the killer. Valerie, in the meantime, is searching for Civil War artifacts, a fact that improbably plays into the larger story. None of these plot elements made much sense to me.

The surprisingly convoluted plot involves Jerry Carlucci, the owner of “a ramshackle saloon and brothel and café at the bottom of a levee a short distance from the saltwater that was eating away the Louisiana coast.” Jerry’s plan to develop casinos may be responsible for bringing the mob to the area. Another potential suspect is Elton Foot, who gets into a tussle with Clete that doesn’t end well for Elton. Also involved with Carlucci is Tommy Driscoll, who tells Clete he tried to get Clemmie off drugs after shutting down the trailer that a former owner of his bar had been using as a house of prostitution.

Some plot elements are puzzling and the ending is a bit predictable, but The Hadacol Boogie has other merits. I appreciate the way Burke expresses ideas, even when many others have expressed the same ideas in less elegant ways. For example: “Maybe she had found herself. You know what I mean? Three or four people are running around inside you, then one day you forgive yourself for your frailties and mistakes, and accept the world for the fine place it is and go about your way.”

Burke refuses to join the (mostly) southern movement to rewrite or whitewash southern history. Dave suggests that nobody else remembers the fourteen-year-old black kid who was electrocuted twice because the drunken executioner botched the first try. Dave will never forget. He remarks that “the past seemed stamped every place I looked.” He sees the slaves hanging from trees. He sees the cops who drop a gun on an unarmed corpse to justify the killing. Dave has no patience with people who cannot learn from the past, who “seem best at banning or burning what they can’t understand.”

Dave has a love/hate relationship with Louisiana that adds complexity to his character. He has spent most of his life in New Iberia, a community that feels like home. He loves the cuisine and lifestyle, but he is clear-eyed about the state as a whole, including its corruption and “long history with the Mafia”:

You well know that your beloved Louisiana is a haunted place and will never give you rest. Why is that? It’s because the enslaved have no tombstones, most not even coffins.

Clete believes “Louisiana is floating away while the worst people in the country wipe their feet on us.” Dave observes: “Louisiana is a haunted place. Maybe it has to do with our guilt.” That guilt includes Civil War editorials “about the supposed lust of black males and how the ferocity of their emancipation would be imposed on white women,” foreshadowing the Willie Horton ads of modern politics.

Despite its allusion to the supernatural (Robicheaux wonders if he is in an alternate reality when he discovers that Louisiana has turned into Vietnam), an action scene near the novel’s end is tense and powerful, a combination that thriller writers often try to evoke, typically with less success than Burke. A scene with a gunner firing from a Huey struck me as highly improbable, but still less outlandish than action scenes in most modern thrillers. The abundance of supernatural elements in the story’s climax was nevertheless excessive.

Ultimately, The Hadacol Boogie is about pain and how to deal with it. Dave Robicheaux doesn’t want to give anyone advice, but his message resonates: the best way to cope with pain is to be a good person, to do good things, to carry on in the present without dwelling on (or forgetting) the past. That is the consistent theme of Robicheaux novels and it is one of the reasons Burke has been laminated on my list of top three crime novelists of the modern era.

RECOMMENDED

A Hole in the Sky by Peter F. Hamilton

Published by Angry Robot on January 20, 2026

A Hole in the Sky isn’t expressly marketed as Young Adult fiction, but it has all the hallmarks. The plot is linear and simple. The story’s moral messages (primarily, “be better than the people you dislike”) are equally simple. Only a few characters are significant, and most characters of significance are in their teens. The heroine isn’t a virgin (her teenage hormones are raging) but, notwithstanding her crush on a young man from another village, the story steers away from sexual encounters. The absence of swearing or colorful language — a young man named Frazier says “oh my dayz” instead of dropping an F-bomb — also seems to pitch the tone toward a younger audience. Frazier is both a nerd and a virgin, the kind of character who appeals to (and often describes) young sf fans.

A generation ship called Daedalus is on its way to a new home. The ship originally intended to colonize the planet Kianira but the voyagers found a life form there that had the potential to evolve sentience. In defiance of Stephen Miller’s assertion that strong people are entitled to destroy weaker aliens simply because they can, the surprisingly ethical passengers decided to leave the planet in peace as they set course for their second choice.

Some passengers, apparently not wishing to prolong the voyage, rebelled. They smashed the medical machinery and food processors in the hope of forcing the ship to turn around. The rebels failed — or so the passengers have been taught — because the captain somehow merged with the ship’s AI (assuming the title of “Electric Captain,” another clue that this is YA fiction) and charted a course to the second-choice planet.

The passengers originally lived in hundred-story condo towers, but the ship has vast acres of farmland. The Electric Captain taught the passengers to farm the soil and raise chickens. They built cabins and villages. A canal that runs through the ship acts as a highway for animal-towed barges that transport people from one village to another. Adopting the Electric Captain’s new social order in the absence of food machines, the passengers agreed that new births should be limited while all passengers should be recycled at age 65 to preserve resources. Passengers who don’t follow those rules are branded as “cheaters” and punished by being recycled.

The protagonist is Hazel. She has all the insecurities that afflict teenagers but demonstrates the moxie and resilience that the reader expects from a YA heroine. Just before she is about to be recycled, a cheater tells Hazel that the swirl they see in the sky is caused by an air leak. If it isn’t repaired, they’ll all die from lack of oxygen in a couple of years. Hazel is inclined to believe the cheater because she’s been getting headaches, but the village elders put their faith in the Electric Captain to protect them.

Hazel’s brother Frazier becomes partially paralyzed when he falls from a tree. The village is about to recycle him when Hazel snatches him away. They make their way to a condo tower, where they learn the truth about the rebellion and the ship’s current predicament. Naturally, Hazel decides to do something about it. Battles and heroic journeys ensue.

I can’t condemn a novel for being pitched to a younger audience — some YA novels are quite good, even for older readers — but I found little about A Hole in the Sky to admire. Despite a sprinkling of action scenes, the plot is relatively dull, as are the characters. The story is predictable and the science fiction elements are unremarkable.

Peter Hamilton apparently intends to milk the story’s content for a trilogy. There’s barely enough here for one novel. I won’t be reading the next books and I can’t recommend the novel to sf fans who enjoy the reasonably sophisticated space operas that Hamilton usually produces. I can give the novel a mild recommendation for YA fans and for sf fans who haven’t yet reached puberty. I might also recommend it to parents of young nerds who are looking for clean, uncontroversial reading material that their kids might enjoy.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS

The Patient by Tim Sullivan

First published in Great Britain in 2022; published by Atlantic Crime on February 3, 2026

The Patient is the third DS Cross novel to be published in the American market. I urge crime novel fans to read the series in order, the better to appreciate how character interaction changes as the novels progress. Readers who prefer to test the waters with The Patient will nevertheless find a novel that can easily be read as a standalone.

Detective Sargeant George Cross is on the spectrum. His obsessive need for order and his refusal to base decisions on assumptions rather than evidence makes him an ideal police detective. His inability to engage in small talk and his indifference to conventions of politeness makes him less than an ideal coworker, but most members of the department have adjusted to his brusque style. His job is to solve crimes, after all, not to hang out at the water cooler and gossip.

The Patient begins with Sandra Wilson trying to convince the local police that her daughter was murdered. The detective who investigated quickly decided that Felicity Wilson was a drug addict who died accidentally from a self-inflicted overdose. Cross happens upon Sandra, listens to her state her case, reviews the police file, and is inclined to agree with the accidental death theory until he learns that Felicity was a recovering addict whose daughter was sleeping in the next room when she died.

Cross asks the medical examiner to conduct further testing, cheesing off DI Campbell, the detective who investigated the case. The testing shows that Felicity died from medical morphine rather than heroin, a drug that isn’t readily available on the street. A test of her hair confirms that she hadn’t used drugs for at least eighteen months. Why would she suddenly decide to inject a drug while her young daughter was sleeping?

The main story follows Cross as he investigates the death. Several viable suspects emerge, including the father of Felicity’s child, the manager of a laundry that employed Felicity (he hired recovering addicts so he could sexually exploit them), the manager’s father, and a doctor/therapist who advocates for assisted dying on behalf of people with mental health issues.

Tim Sullivan makes each suspect a plausible criminal, making it difficult for the reader to guess the outcome of Cross’ investigation. Sullivan’s skillful planting and concealment of clues makes The Patient (like the first two entries in the series) the kind of carefully constructed mystery that crime novel fans should enjoy.

An amusing subplot concerns a complaint that Campbell files against Cross for disrespectful behavior after Cross accuses him of negligence — a complaint that Cross refuses to address because he regards it as a silly distraction from his work. Series fans should also enjoy the continued development of Cross’ working relationship with his partner, DS Josie Ottey, and a non-uniformed police staffer, Alice Mackenzie. By being patient and a bit devious, both women find ways to help Cross learn coping behaviors that encourage meaningful interaction with other officers and civilians he interviews.

Cross’ passion for playing the organ adds a bit of comic relief when the pastor whose church organ he tunes in exchange for practice time finally persuades Cross to play a recital. Sullivan also finds humor in Cross’ relationship with his father, a hoarder who needs nursing care after fracturing his hip. A final plot element involves Cross’ estranged relationship with the mother who abandoned him. Sullivan uses these characters to help the reader understand that people on the spectrum still have a heart, even if they lack the social skills to reveal their hearts to others, and to illustrate how a sensitive approach to people on the spectrum can pay enormous dividends.

As always, the story moves quickly, but not at the frenetic pace of a thriller. Sullivan gives the reader a chance to relax and appreciate the mystery he’s crafted, while populating the novel with characters who are welcome additions to the reader’s literary life.

RECOMMENDED

The Asset by Mike Lawson

Published by Atlantic Crime on February 3, 2026

The newest entry in Mike Lawson’s long-running Joe DeMarco series departs a bit from the usual political crimes that DeMarco either thwarts or commits. DeMarco is a fixer for John Mahoney, the leader of the Democratic party in the House of Representatives. Mahoney is currently the minority leader but will presumably become the Speaker if Lawson completes the next novel after the 2026 midterms.

A relatively plain college student named Jenny McMillian is having an affair with a hot professor named Noah Parker. They have some drinks at a rural diner before Jenny drives them to Noah’s place. Jenny takes a corner too fast and slams the car into a man who is standing in the middle of the road. Noah encourages her to leave the dead body and flee the scene with him to avoid the complication of being charged with a DUI that causes a death.

Someone took a video of the crash. Zhou Enlai, a spy in China’s embassy, uses the video to blackmail Jenny’s mother, Lydia Chang. Since Chang is married to Dutch McMillian, the Republican leader of the Senate, Enlai believes Chang can gain access to classified information.

Diane Lake, a former CIA agent who now works for a firm that does political investigations, sees Enlai having a clandestine meeting with Chang and concludes that Chang is a spy. She brings that information to Mahoney, who suspects that Lake has an ulterior motive. He tasks DeMarco with getting to the bottom of the story.

The novel follows DeMarco as he interviews Chang and Jenny, learns something disturbing about Noah (more disturbing that his shagging of students), and tries to learn how the video was made. The plot is twisty but not convoluted. Some aspects are improbable, but less so than is typical of modern crime novels.

A secondary plot involves a hog butcher in Kentucky who witnessed a gruesome act committed by a Republican political candidate. Mahoney wants DeMarco to verify the story so Mahoney can use it to trash her candidacy. DeMarco’s adventures in Kentucky add comic relief to the story, although Lawson always writes with a light touch. Notably, while the gruesome act should be disqualifying for any political office, it is drawn from the life of a real person who held political office and currently holds a cabinet position notwithstanding that stain on her character.

I appreciate the way Lawson loosely conforms the DeMarco stories to the real world of politics without getting too far into the weeds. Readers of most political viewpoints can enjoy the novels without feeling obligatory outrage because Lawson insulted their favorite politician.

DeMarco might not be the most admirable protagonist in the world of thrillers, but that’s part of his charm. He holds his nose while doing his job and, while he’d rather be golfing, keeps at it so he can afford the greens fees. While he doesn’t always succeed, he does the best he can to keep himself free of political stink.

For a time, DeMarco worries that achieving the political end desired by Mahoney will cause a killer to go unpunished. The Asset arrives at a reasonably just resolution.  As always, the story moves quickly, no loose ends are left untied, and the ending is satisfying.

RECOMMENDED

Vigil by George Saunders

Published by Random House on  ‎ January 27, 2026

A growing number of novels tackle climate change in scenes of a postapocalyptic future. George Saunders has never been one to follow a beaten path.  His focus is on the fate of a successful oilman who bamboozled the public by sowing doubt about climate science. In his dying hour, will the man repent or will his narcissism blind him to any understanding of the harm he caused?

The story is narrated by Jill “Doll” Blaine. Jill’s body is buried in a cemetery in Stanley, Indiana. She was happily married to Lloyd until they switched cars and she was blown up in an explosion that targeted her husband.

Jill was elevated after she died. She is tasked with comforting people in their hour of death. Her latest charge is J.K. Boone. A French ghost tells Jill that rather than comforting Boone, she should “lead him, as quickly as possible, to contrition, shame, and self-loathing.” Boone wants nothing to do with contrition because “against heavy odds, he’d lived an extraordinary life full of tremendous accomplishment and had always done his best and, in sum, had done nothing wrong, not a goddamn thing, and was leaving behind no lasting harm, zero, nada, none at all: a world better for having had him in it, period, full stop.”

Boone’s narcissism is the foundation of the novel’s humor. Boone believes he had been “more important to the lives of the people on earth during his time than the vast majority of those dead-and-buried folks had been to theirs. That was just a fact. Even if you included kings. Strange but true: he’d had more actual power than most kings of old. Someone had told him that once and he supposed it was true. What a thing.”

Boone’s thoughts are occupied by buzz words. He argues that any trivial harm his business causes to the climate is more than offset by “progress,” “growth,” and “free markets.” He feels no qualms about paying scientists to cook their research so they could claim that climate change is not influenced by the fossil fuel industry. He would “stand onstage there in front of some packed auditorium and say: Right here, signatures from seventeen thousand scientists who don’t believe the science here is rock-solid.” Scrutiny of the petition would reveal thousands of signatures of people who didn’t exist but by the time inconvenient facts were revealed, low-information citizens had cemented the belief that climate change is a hoax. Their ignorance made it possible for Boone to head off political momentum toward clean energy alternatives.

Jill encounters other ghosts as she hangs with Boone, including the pseudo-scientists he exploited and victims of fires and drought and other climate-related catastrophes who are less interested in comforting Boone than in torturing him. She takes an amusing detour to a nearby wedding but eventually returns to her duty with the self-centered oil man.  

As much as certain branches of theology suggest the importance of repentance and atonement, is it realistic to believe that a lifetime of self-deception can be overcome at the end? A reader might appreciate Vigil for the philosophical and theological questions its poses. On a different level, a reader might be amused by the offbeat story Saunders tells. Either way, this end-of-life scenario showcases Saunders’ ability to advance unique perspectives about serious issues without taking himself too seriously. Saunders is always funny and that’s a sufficient reason to breeze through Vigil.

RECOMMENDED