I can't remem­ber the second-last book that I read in a sin­gle day, but I can tell you what the last one was: Sara Gran’s Claire DeWitt and the City of the Dead.

Claire DeWitt is hired by Leon to find out what hap­pened to his uncle Vic, the DA in New Orleans. Vic has van­ished; Leon isn’t sure if he’s alive or dead, though he sus­pects the lat­ter. Leon hired Claire because she’s the best, but she’s far from ordi­nary. A dis­ci­ple of a little-known French inves­ti­ga­tor, Jacques Silette, who wrote a sin­gle book on his inves­tiga­tive prin­ci­ples, Détec­tion, back in the '50s. Silette’s style of detec­tive work is only partly about find­ing out who done it; it’s more about solv­ing the mys­tery of one’s own self. Every­one already knows the solu­tion, he claims; it’s just that very, very few are will­ing to accept and admit the truth.

Claire DeWitt reminded me of both Sher­lock Holmes and his latter-day avatar Dar­ryl Zero. She has the uncanny abil­ity to con­struct entire truths out of the thinnest of clues; after learn­ing that one young man’s sis­ter used to call him Née-Née, she not only divined his name (Nicholas) but also his place of birth, the num­ber of sib­lings he had, and the ice-cream par­lour where he’d most recently worked. Like Holmes, too, she has a fond­ness for the drugs: booze, weed, var­i­ous mushroom-based com­pounds — heck, at least once, she smoked a joint laced with embalm­ing fluid. (No kidding.)

But Claire is a com­pletely orig­i­nal cre­ation. She’s a fatal­ist, a men­tal case, a perhaps-murderer. She’s a deeply flawed char­ac­ter, an anti-hero who grew up in a decay­ing man­sion, a blood-sister who gave up look­ing for her best friend when she van­ished. Her men­tor was mur­dered in a ran­dom act of sense­less violence.

The set­ting, too, is key. The novel is set in New Orleans, post-Katrina, and the city itself is a char­ac­ter: it’s a wounded beast, per­haps mor­tally so, try­ing des­per­ately to recover, but it’s not clear if it can recover, or even if it’s worth recov­er­ing. It’s not a city for happy end­ings, a fact that is repeated sev­eral times, by dif­fer­ent peo­ple. It’s a warn­ing to the reader, too: This doesn’t end well. (Does it end well? You’ll have to read it to find out.)

The story itself is tautly plot­ted, and moves along at a great clip. Claire’s leaps of logic are (mostly) explained to the reader, and they (mostly) make sense in the end. The story kept me immersed, com­pletely — like I said, I read it in a day, some­thing I haven’t done in a long time.

[filched from my blog]