Cimarron Rose (A Holland Family Novel)

James Lee Burke is such a great writer! And this first book in the Billy Bob Holland series is a fine book. Interspersed in the story, Billy Bob reads from his great grandfather's journal from which we learn about the book's title. The two men are alike in a lot of ways, especially when it comes to the woman each choses to love. As is typical with Mr. Burke the prose is wonderful, characters described such that you feel you know them, and scenery related beautifully. I can hardly wait to start Heartwood, the next book in this series.

Fans of James Lee Burke's Dave Robicheaux/cajun cop series now have a new series with Texas lawyer Billy Bob Holland. If this had been the first Burke book for me, I would have rated it higher.
The main plot involves Billy Bob defending his illegitimate son against a murder charge in a fishy-smelling situation involving a rich kid deviant with fetal alcohol syndrome and speed on the brain, a former football hero, DEA officers, and a sociopath named Garland T. Moon.
The inner plot involves Billy Bob wrestling with ghosts and demons from his past, namely private conversations he has with his old partner from their Texas Ranger days. There is also some mystery surrounding the death of Billy Bob's father in 1965.
Burke does an excellent job weaving all of the plot threads together, and the characters are believable. His descriptions are spare and elegant, and he has the ability provide sensory detail in a few short sentences.
One word of warning is that the cast is a rogue's gallery, like other Burke novels, and features a very flawed protaganist, but one we can root for just the same. Still, we're in some dark territory here, and Burke's writing is edgy, graphic and not for everyone.
While the book was well-written, I didn't get enough distance between Dave Robicheaux and Billy Bob Holland, who are essentially the same character. Both are men in their forties who stay in good shape, have father issues, and share similar demons in their past. The same self-righteous attitude was evident in both men. I hope that Billy Bob's voice takes a different shape in future novels of this series.
The other problem is that Burke is starting to recycle some of his details. The wealthy southerners always hold glasses wrapped with paper napkins secured with a rubber band. He's used this one a lot. There's also one where the night smells of fish spawning that's been used multiple times.
Still, this was a gripping read filled with tension on every page that made me want to know what was going to happen next.

All right, for some reason I haven't been familiar with Burke's writing up to now. Nobody e-mailed me about him. I was surfing the Mystery Writers' Association website and I noticed that Burke has this habit of winning Edgar awards over and over, so I thought I'd check him out.
This is one of the Edgar winners, and it supports my previously-expressed hypothesis that they don't give out the award by drawing names out of a hat. This is a very strong novel with a West Texas small-city/rural voice, with currents of Ross MacDonald and Dashiell Hammett, a touch of Larry McMurtry, and highlights of raspberry, chocolate, and tobacco. I'm sorry about the 'highlights', I realized I sounded as if I was describing wine and couldn't resist.
I mean the other stuff, though, and it's all complimentary. By referring to MacDonald, I mean that Burke displays the same sense of complexity: of setting, of interaction. I mean, everyone has a history, everyone has secrets, and not just every major and minor character, but every place, every barn and lot and stream. And all of these secrets are liable to bubble up and confuse everyone at any moment and knock the plot into a new and surprising direction. Nobody is carrying out any one plan. Everyone has a lot of things on his/her mind. It's the exact opposite of the sense that you get with one of these serial-killer novels where the villain is omnipotent and single-minded and supremely organized and does nothing all day except perfect his serial killing plan. Here most of the people are at least somewhat friendly and at least somewhat dangerous, and the tensions seldom get resolved.
However, Burke's style is not MacDonald's brooding tapestry of similes; it's much more like Hammett, spare, brisk, and violent; for example:
"... [I] rode my Morgan up on the porch and through the doorway, ducking down on his withers to get under the jamb. ..
"'I hope you brung your own dustpan and whisk broom,' the bartender said.
"I rode the Morgan between a cluster of tables and chairs and across a small dance floor toward the pool table. The man eating from a paper plate looked at me, smiling, a spoonful of chili half-way to his mouth ... I whipped the loop three times over my head and flung it at the man with the blond beard ... He tried to rise from the chair and free himself, but I wound the rope tightly around the pommel, brought my left spur into the Morgan's side, and catapulted the blond man off his feet and dragged him caroming through tables and bar stools and splintering chairs, into an oak post and the legs of a pinball machine and the side of the jukebox, tearing a huge plastic divot out of the casing."
Note how he uses the rhythm of the clauses to pace the action, short and simple as the action impends, then exploding along with the action into a sprawling run-on sentence. The action leaps along; the average 'scene' is a page or a page and a half long, and since something happens in every 'scene', by the time you are on page 10, things are moving fast and furious. This is also very much like Hammett: think about "Red Harvest", for example.
Later, the county D.A. complains:
"I work in a county that's so corrupt I have to confide in a defense lawyer who rides his horse into barrooms. I grant you, it's a pitiful situation."
That last line is the sort of thing that makes me think of McMurtry - I mean the best McMurtry, "Lonesome Dove" in particular. Isn't that a gem? Can't you imagine Woodrow Call saying that? Or maybe it isn't McMurtry at all, maybe they just really talk like that all the time in West Texas, and Burke and McMurtry are just reporting it. Whichever, it's an attractive feature.
The narrator, Billy Bob Holland, is a former Texas Ranger who has retreated into criminal defense work in self-imposed penance for accidentally shooting his partner and best friend, L. Q. Navarro, in a chaotic battle with drug smugglers down in Coahuila. He sees Navarro everywhere and talks with him, but these dialogues don't hurt the plot much. He is also re-reading his great-grandfather's journals, which are the stuff of a novel in themselves, in an attempt (I guess) to explore the question of whether and how you can get out of the rut of living in a violent and self-destructive culture. You can either treat this as an interesting interlude, or skip over it, or try to tie it in convincingly with the main action. I never really managed this last, but it doesn't bother me much.
The plot starts off with Holland being summoned to defend a young man on charges of rape and murder, and the trial winds up near the end of the book, but to say that the book is 'about' the trial is to ignore the 15 other subplots that turn the narrative structure into a 'bush' rather than a 'ladder'. I guess the book is mainly about trying to do what's right even if you live in a really corrupt county and have a great burden of shame of your own. Unless you argue that the style itself is the content, as if it were a work of instrumental music. Whichever. Anyway, I recommend this book very highly.

Having read several of James Lee Burke's novels now, I have come to see that his approach to weaving together a story is intriguingly unorthodox. His narrative is choppy and at times almost disjointed; short vignettes, encounters, and episodes are cobbled together, and change-of-voice digressions and flashbacks are not unusual. Readers accustomed to a smoother ride will find Burke's approach difficult in places.
At the same time, Burke can positively hypnotize readers through the beauty of the language he employs and his ability to capture a thought, a moment, a mood, or a concept in a few well-chosen words or phrases. This combination of organizational looseness and powerful, evocative writing makes reading Burke a truly distinctive literary experience.
In *Cimarron Rose*, Burke has taken a break from his Dave Robacheaux series and has introduced a new protagonist, Billy Bob Holland in a new setting, Deaf Smith County, Texas. Still, the overall tone and style of the story will be familiar to readers of previous Burke novels. Holland is another fallen lawman-type haunted by his past, and his similarity to Robacheaux in terms of his patterns of action and thinking are hardly surprising. The story itself is populated by desperate criminal types, fallen women, drunkards, corrupt "leading citizens," a demented maniac, and in fact, a entire cast of typical denizens of Burke's stories.
With its loosely woven whodunit plot line and its accompanying quota of broken noses and gunshot wounds, the story is a kind of classic combination of police mystery and violent pulp fiction novella. Added to this are some interesting added elements, including recurring reference to Billy Bob's great-grandaddy's journal and the regular appearance of the ghost of Billy Bob's ex-best friend and partner. Combined with a rather weird ... ending, the whole mish-mash makes for interesting reading but doesn't constitute a satisfactorily well-woven novel overall.
Despite its flaws, *Cimarron Rose* is worthwhile not only because of Burke's talents as a wordsmith, but also because of his astute eye for social and class interactions and conflict in his small-town southern setting. His descriptions of the myriad ways in which the affluent "East enders" dominate the small Texas community in which events unfold in this book shows Burke's keen understanding of the sociological and economic as well as psychological aspects of his human subject matter. Clearly, his own sympathies are with the lower classes, the downtrodden, the underprivileged, and the way he skewers the powerful and hypocritical in this book is impressive, indeed.

If you like Burke which means you like character development, good guys who are meaner than the bad guys, well developed prose, and a bit of quirkiness you will like this book. I started reading this series to help withdraw from Robicheaux but it didn't quite work out as I hoped. Robicheaux along with Clete make for constant violence and chaos but here Billy Bob scales it back just enough that you pause and think a little more. Not a bad thing but you will find yourself missing the action.

If I were to reread all of Burke I would slow down on Robicheaux by filling in with the Holland cousins (Billy Bob and Hackberry) in between. They make for a nice change of pace but you keep waiting for them to bring the pain and hurt down onto the bad guys and occassionally it does happen but not enough.

If had never read the robicheaux series than the Holland cousins would get 5 stars. But I did so they dont.

James Lee Burke has produced another winner, and introduces all of us to a new, compelling hero. "Cimarron Rose" tells the dual tale of Billy Bob Hollander, and his great-grandfather Sam Hollander. (Sam's tale is relayed through excerpts of his diary which Billy Bob reads during the course of the novel.)

Billy Bob is a flawed hero, in the vein of Dave Robicheaux. He is a man of strong moral principles and unapologetic faith. How he balances his ideals, and seeks justice in a corrupt world, makes or good reading; and provides food for thought.

I believed that the latest entries in the Robicheaux series showed some tiredness on Burke's part. He has pretty well explored Robicheaux's character and world. It was time for Burke to move on, and he has wisely chosen to do so. Still, this new novel contains what we have come to expect from Burke: an interesting protagonist, other characters with both good and bad traits, and a sense of the world in which they all live. A classic touch: Burke's descriptions of the meals his characters eay. If the Robicheaux novels left you hungry for a po' boy sandwich, wait till you read about Billy Bob's meals of steak, eggs and refried beans!

It is a wise author who knows when it's time to retire a character. James Lee Burke has made a smart decision in bringing us Billy Bob Hollander. I look forward to future tales of his adventures in Texas.

Cimarron Rose is a typically offbeat James Lee Burke tale, set in the small town of Deaf Smith, Texas. Defense attorney, Billy Bob Holland, is asked to take on the cases of two young men, and soon finds himself in the middle of a complex set of corrupt relationships that will not be sorted out unless he does it. The book has a fascinating story within a story delivered in the form of a journal inherited from his Great-grandpa Sam that Billy Bob reads almost daily while pursuing the case. The book has fascinating characters whose evil, blindness, and carelessness make the story develop in unexpected ways. Although the book has much violence in it, there is a genuine attempt to keep the violence within some sort of limits that makes the book more appealing.
I like books that feature significant character development, and this one does an exemplary job with Billy Bob and Lucas Smothers, who is accused of a rape and murder. These two men are very complicated but in a way that will draw you in, and cause you to root for them to keep following their ideals and dreams.
The backdrop is a crooked town, in a corrupt county, with lots of bent government types running around. Although probably no worse than a lot of other places, this book is about a sort of Texas Sodom and Gomorrah. There is a need for someone to do more than what is required, and Billy Bob takes on that role. You will find those who are satisfied with their wealthy lives just as culpable as those who are totally corrupt.
Fans of the Dave Robicheaux novels will find this one follows the general approach of those rich, complex stories.
Clearly, Billy Bob is a fellow who operates well outside the law, a sort of modern day Lone Ranger. At the same time, he can barely keep himself from going off the deep end mentally. As a result, he is sort of like a ticking time bomb, and you keep expecting him to go off. And he does.
The plot culminates in a trial that presents the kind of unexpected developments that you will recognize from Perry Mason stories.
After you finish reading this novel, you should think about when you should follow God's law, when men's laws, and when your own conscience. How would you have handled the dilemmas presented here for Billy Bob and Lucas? How could they have handled them better?
Live in the present and make a pathway for good!

I liked part two (Bitterroot) of James Lee Burke’s Billy Bob Holland saga so well that I gave this first part a listen on unabridged audio. Boy howdy, Billy Bob gets better with age!
Cimarron Rose is our introduction Billy Bob Holland, an attorney/former Texas Ranger (the Law Enforcement kind – not G.W.’s former baseball team) and his friends and relatives, including his dead ranger partner, L.Q. Navarro, for whose death Billy Bob, a “river-baptized” Baptist turned Roman Catholic, feels all the guilt that the latter can impose.
The plot exposes small-town caste sociology to the light - without proselytizing - like Stephen King did in the horror venue with “Carrie.” But what’s up with Great-grandpa’s journal? This reader doesn’t see the point - except to exploit the extreme predjudices of the period against Native Americans. The author’s forays (via excerpts from an old journal) into Billy Bob’s outlaw/preacher great-grandfather’s lust for the “savage” Cimarron Rose, and concomitant self-hatred, seem superfluous and gratuitous.
Burke’s writing is superb. At one point I just had to stop and write down a quote. Billy Bob (the tale is written in the first-person) is telling us about his Daddy, who had gone nearly blind as a welder. Then, “Clarity of sight” came only when he was welding “and saw again the flame that was as pure to him as the cathedrals bells were to the deaf bell-ringer Quasimodo.”
This tour of Burke’s Deaf Smith County, Texas is well worth the trip. Stay on board for Bitterroot, Montana!

James Lee Burke temporarily put his New Orleans bayeaux hero Dave Robicheaux on hold to introduce a new series featuring Billy Bob Holland, the haunted ex-Texas Ranger, now defense attorney in the small Texas town of Deaf Smith.
Holland is a hero in the same mold as Robicheaux, the amalgamation of the strong, silent John Wayne stereotype, with enough contemporary angst to place him firmly in the present. Holland is haunted, literally and figuratively, by L.Q. Navarro, his partner in the rangers, who he accidentally shot and killed while battling drug smugglers in Mexico. This could understandably put a strain on most friendships, but Navarro doesn't mind being dead. It's pretty restful to sit around and swap lies without having to bother with mundane facts like earning a living. His role in the book is less avenging spirit and more amiable sidekick.
Rounding out the setup is a son Holland's never acknowledged, a fine boy named Lucas Smothers whose mother died when he was an infant. He's being raised by a harsh and hostile stepfather who's sharecropping on Holland's land.
Unfortunately for Lucas, he was found passed out near the body of his raped and murdered girlfriend, and Holland works to dig out the truth. Arranged against Holland and Lucas are an array of corrupt, evil and just plain psychopathic characters: the son of the town's most powerful family who may or may not be involved in the murder, the corrupt sheriff and his deputies and Garland T. Moon, a wandering psychopath dying of cancer, who came back to Deaf Smith on a mission of his own.
Weaved among the contemporary story is the tale of Holland's great-grandfather, a drunken gunfighter who has since taken the pledge, and his true love, known mostly as the Rose of Cimarron. Everyone once in awhile, Holland takes down the family journal and reads about his ancestor's battle to win his true love's heart and remain a peaceable man despite his conflict with the Dalton-Doolin gang, who have taken root in the caves near his farm and are sending property skidding down by robbing trains, shooting innocent women, letting their hogs run free and shooting wild horses for meat.
It's to Burke's credit that keeps these plates spinning; one is never confused over who's talking to whom and what's happening next. The problem with "Cimarron Rose" lies in the ponderous, carved-in-stone writing, and the utter incomprehensibility of most of the characters' actions.
Burke has a fine talent for creating memorable images, but he lets his pen wander farther than he intends, leading to some very ludicrous sentences. While Holland recalls his father, a welder who died when the natural-gas pipeline he was in exploded, he reflects, "my mother said his vision had become so bad that clarity of sight came to him only when he struck the stringer-bead rod against the pipe's metal and saw again the flame that was a pure to him as the cathedral's bells were to the deaf bellringer Quasimodo."
That's mom, all right, always quoting Victor Hugo.
This is a manly man's book, full of testosterone... and vinegar, where it seems like everyone is savaging everyone else. If Holland is not getting beaten up, his horse is getting slashed, his house ransacked, the new sheriff's deputy who may or may not be fed is getting ambushed, his son's getting drugged, stripped and dumped at the country club, or any one of a dozen acts of mayhem. Put it to music and you've got a country song.
This over-the-top violence will either convince you that you're reading Deep Literature, or make you break out laughing. You can guess which side I landed on. By the time Garland Moon bursts into a house and torments the owner by twisting his nose, I'm thinking Three Stooges. And the epilogue which ties up the book into a pretty bow and everything is hunky-dory has the feel of a family sitcom.

Having been born and bred in Texas but having traveled extensively throughout Louisiana, I was eager to delve into Cimmaron Rose, having read all of the Dave Robicheaux novels. My first empression upon finishing the book was that I had read a novel written by a Cajun ABOUT a Texas, while in all of Burke's Robicheaux novels I felt I was reading a book written by a Cajun about events that may have occurred in his own back yard. With Robicheaux, Burke created a protagonist that is REAL - with a wife murdered, a child adopted, run- ins with mob characters, and most importantly being fired from two different law enforcement agencies. That's real life, and as a reader and also a former police officer, I found myself actually "smelling" the swamps and feeling the dampness of the New Orleans "dives". Dave is real life, while Billy Bob feels much more fictional. The Texan lingo and locale was real enough, but the character himself lacked depth, which is at the core of the Robicheaux tales. Without background for the reader to feed off of, it was hard to get into the book, although Burke has the phenomonal ability to make his readers feel the events rather than just read the words. I feel he should either let Billy Bob go, provide a great deal of depth and/or background to him (wife, children, childhood, etc.) or come back to the New Iberia Parish and the bait house and give the readers what they love the most - their Cajun Cop.

James Lee Burke continues to produce thought-provoking and thoroughly readable fiction. Cimarron Rose weaves a fine tale with strong characters, good plotting and excellent first person narration. Drawing from his usual themes, Burke reflects on how the past informs the present, how men like hero Billy Bob Holland, (an ex-Texas Ranger) reconciles the violence in his life whilst trying to be decent as he raises a surrogate son in the form of a young mexican boy, (echoes here of Dave Robicheaux's adopted daughter Alafair). Cimarron Rose begins well and continues to grip the reader as a gallery of typical Burke villians(revolting pyscopaths, obnoxious federal agents, crooked law enforcement officers and rich spoilt, vicious brats) give hero Holland grief. Varying in style only slightly from Burke's earlier books, those who have enjoyed his work before should enjoy this book too.

This author is not one of your usual authors. His characters don't live in a world where the glass is either half empty nor half full. His characters live in a world, iinside a glass, where it is perpetually empty. If you can adjust to his cynicism, he does some of the best creative imagery that Ii have read. This is not an author for everyone, so try your free sample first.

Defense attorney Billy Bob Holland is an ex-Texas Ranger who has taken a murder case where the chief suspect is his illegitimate son. But this isn't a simple plot; it involves his father and his great grandfather's diary as well. The past also haunts him literally-in the form of L.Q. Navarro. As a Ranger, Billy Bob accidentally killed his partner and friend. Periodically L.Q. appears to Billy Bob and offers him advice. The intricate plot and fluid writing definitely draw you into the Billy Bob's world in Deaf Smith. For instance, there isn't just one villain; the novel is full of unsavory characters. I fell in love with the lyric images floating from the pages and atmosphere, but I have to admit the ending was a bit confusing.

Substitute tortillas for beignets to provide the local flavor, a haunted ex-Texas Ranger for a haunted ex-cop to play the tough-as-nails arbiter of good and evil, and a precocious little half-Mexican son-of-a-drunken-slut boy for a precocious little Central American orphaned girl to embody all that is innocent, pure, and worth protecting, and you've got a Robicheaux novel transplanted a few miles west. I can imagine that Burke has gotten tired of Robicheaux; all the books he stars in are pretty much the same. But changing the names and locale isn't enough to inject new life into the formula. This is decent airplane reading, but no more than that.

I respect JLB for trying to develop a new character and place, but I have to say -- having read all of his Robicheaux books - that I was disappointed in this one. Perhaps it will take another novel to perfect the Billy Bob character. I think the plot is rather confusing -- so many eccentric characters, as is JLB's signature -- and not enough focus on Billy Bob's character. JLB seems to dance around Billy Bob's ambivalence toward life, e.g., "I had made a career out of living a half life," which might be a wonderful and powerful statement. This may be because the author hasn't decided who Billy Bob is. The author doesn't know Texas as he knows Louisiana. I am not from Texas, although I have been there, as well as Louisiana. The moody, lyric writing about the landscape of Louisiana in the Robicheaux books rings true, delicious and delirious, whereas the Texas scenes seem to be overwritten, as if the author is trying too hard. That may be part of the problem with this novel in general. I think JLB, nonetheless, is a top-notch literary writer in the mystery genre. He is one of the best. I look forward to his next book.

Move over Dave Robicheaux, make way for Billy Bob Holland, a defense attorney in the small Texas town of Deaf Smith. Billy Bob has to defend his illigetimate son who alleged to have raped and murdered a young girl.
As is typical of a Burke main character , flaws make them human and in this case a spectre of his former partner haunts him. Actually the ghost gives our hero good advice throughout the book.
Darl Vanzandt is a twisted sociopath who gives the novel some spice as does a convict who is released from prison on a technicality.
Burke's novels are imbued with powerful characters, great dialogue and moving prose.
I look forward to the next book in this series

As a fan of the Robicheaux novels, Neon Rain, Heavens Prisoners et all, I cursed the introduction of a new character(authors seem to tire of their creations before we do) but Cimarron Rose has no part of disappointment in the whole description. Billy Bob Holland and Deaf Smith,Texas deliver both the 'body bags and toe tags' of Burke's relentless realism; and,like Dave Robicheaux in New Iberia, also sandpapers our frequently dulled sensibilities. There is in James Lee Burke's work a prevalent theme of honor - lost,or misplaced,but like a gremlin sitting on your shoulder, always there just out of sight. While Burke has a storyteller's gift and the ability to create intensely vivid locale, the private lights of his tarnished heros are what transform paper and ink to flesh and blood. In all the Robicheaux novels, and now in Cimarron Rose,the protagonists seem to say...."Bless me Father for I have sinned", while others in the cast echo the truth.........."but so have you."

Perfect winter night reading. The memories. so realistic - like snapshots from the past. With the special Burke ingredients: intrigue, brilliant plotting, and likable/interesting characters that you hate to leave at the end. I read this book a pretty long time ago and still count it as a favorite - and would read it again! It had an ethereal quality to it.

It was inevitable that Burke was going to have to break out of his Dave Robicheaux series just to remind himself that he is more than a great mystery writer, he's a great author. In `Cimarron Rose' James Lee Burke proves that he is one of the best descriptive writers we have. His ability to set moods and describe characters is tremendous. `Cimarron Rose' creates the anger and injustice that has always been at the center of Burke's books. The grit from his early works such as `Two For Texas' and `To The Bright and Shining Sun' is now combined with his ability to craft a stellar story line. True, he has more than his fair share of ghosts in the closet, but what the heck, that's what fiction is for.

Cimarron Rose is well-crafted and engaging, but it borrows too heavily from earlier novels. I enjoyed Billy Bob's dialogues with his dead partner (reminiscent of Electric Mist) but grew a bit tired of the decadent rich people theme from Cadillac Jukebox. If I hadn't read all the Robicheaux books I would recommend this book without hesitation, but I'm disappointed that a writer of Burke's stature appears to be using formulas. I don't think originality is too much to ask for.

I love James Lee Burke novels, all of them. However, I made the mistake of buying Cimarron Rose with someone other than Will Patton narrating. I was distracted by this narrator's lack of ability to make the characters sound credible. Because someone has a drawl or a twang or a Southern accent, that does not make them ignorant. He didn't know how to pronounce the idioms/vocabulary correctly, his cadence didn't fit with the story, and I couldn't enjoy it. I am so sorry that I didn't know there was a reading available by Will Patton. I would certainly have ordered that instead.

James Lee Burke is perhaps the best writer in his genre working today, and he continues to improve. He combines the ability to craft taut, suspenseful crime thrillers, an eloquent voice, and deep insight into the flaws of human nature. It is our flaws make us human, and our struggles to overcome them that carry the potential for nobility, and Burke's characters strive mightily to get past their own limitations.
In Cimmaron Rose, Burke may have crafted his best story to date. The characters are multi-faceted, the dialogue gritty and real, and the sense of place so strong you can smell the hot dust in the air.
If you want more than a cardboard-cutout hero who remains untouched by bullets, his own emotion or the suffering of others, bet on Burke.

I can understand JLB getting tired of his cajun caracter, but I have'nt had quite enough of him and I'm not so sure the author has either. I'm a loyal fan so I'll sick with him as he works on his new guy. I just hope he comes along as well the old one.

Burke describes characters who are as incongruous as the landscape. The heat, the rain, and the desolation make the reader mighty glad not to live anywhere near Mr. Holland. The stated and understated violence is unsettling. One doesn't expect the protagonist, Billy Bob Holland, to die. He takes a lot of chances with some seriously sick people. I wondered why he could be so lucky. But then, I remembered it was only fiction. I dare you to put the book down once started. James Lee Burke has a way with prose that is metaphorical and lyrical. When he is describing ponds and bayoux, he is at his best.

Burke is a "reliable author". If you want to spend your time and money reasonably - "Cimarron Rose" is just what you need. Everything in the book is thought over thoroughly - characters, dialogues, places, actions. It is a well-balanced crime-story for leisurely reading.