Book Around the Corner

Moth by James Sallis (1993) French title : Papillon de nuit. Translated by Elisabeth Guinsbourg, reviewed by Stéphanie Estournet.

Moth is the second volume of the Lew Griffin series by James Sallis and I got my signed copy at Quais du Polar.

Lew Griffin is an African-American amateur detective, a former thug, an intermittent teacher of French literature and a successful crime fiction writer.

The book opens on a scene in an intensive-care nursery where Griffin is visiting a tiny baby, tagged Baby Girl McTell. Her eighteen-year-old mother Alouette has disappeared after she gave birth to her premature baby.

Lew Griffin isn’t related to Alouette and her baby, at least not on paper. But she is LaVerne’s estranged daughter and the late LaVerne meant the world to him.

There was no way I could tell her or anyone else what LaVerne had meant, had been, to me. We were both little more than kids when we met; Verne was a hooker then. Years later she married her doctor and I didn’t see her for a while. When he cut her loose, she started as a volunteer at a rape crisis cente and went on to a psychology degree and fulltime counseling. It was a lonely life, I guess, at both ends. And when finally she met a guy named Chip Landrieu and married him, even as I began to realize what I had lost, I was happy for her. For both of them.

One paragraph and you know why Chip Andrieu hires Griffin to find the missing Alouette and why Griffin takes this investigation at heart. LaVerne and Alouette were estranged because her father, the doctor mentioned earlier, kept his daughter away from her mother. And Alouette fell with the wrong crowd, becoming a drug addict.

Griffin will do everything in his power to find her, even if it means endangering himself, having a road trip in remote places in Louisiana where he’d rather not go to or losing his second chance with his lover Clare. He owes it to LaVerne. He’s paying his respect again, he’s faithful to their shared history. And it is a last way to have her back, even if she’s dead now.

Moth is a first-person narrative which means that we are privy to Lew’s inner thoughts, feelings and vision of life. And as a reader, it’s a nice head to be in. He’s struggling with his past, his addiction to alcohol and tries to put himself together. His three meaningful relationships left bruises and regrets, a sort of unfinished business with LaVerne, Vicky who left him after an intense relationship and Clare who wants and deserves more than what he’s willing to give.

As often in good crime fiction, the plot is important to keep the story moving forward but the crux of the book is on the sidelines.

James Sallis is a poet and a translator of Georges Perec which means he’s skilled with words. It is noticeable in his prose. I’ve read Moth in French but his translators give justice to his incredible style and sense of place. With his background in poetry and French literature, Sallis brings something new to crime fiction. I loved Griffin’s digressions about French literature and the descriptions of New Orleans and Louisiana.

Moth takes the reader to pre-Katrina New Orleans as Griffin doesn’t own a car and walks through the city a lot. As a French reader, there’s always an odd familiarity with books set in New Orleans. I had the same feeling when I read Kate Chopin and James Lee Burke. It’s probably because of all the French names like Andrieu and remaining traces of French culture, like Griffin and his café au lait. (Btw, Alouette means Skylark).

The city falls apart, led by corrupted politicians and a disregard for its poor population, something Sallis point out as Griffin walks around and something we’ll all see when hurricane Katrina hits the city. Walking around New Orleans with Griffin is a melancholic experience as we feel the city decaying due to a lack of TLC.

The trip in the Louisiana back country is also very cinematographic. The Deep South and its seedy motels, its isolated gas stations and its well-groomed Confederate cemeteries. Everything is described in such a way that Sallis transports you there and you feel how uncomfortable Griffin is in these areas.

In our times of growing tendencies to censor people who don’t abide by political correctness, to point out people who wander out of the path defined by self-appointed defenders of morality and to erase edges that displease the said righteous people, tolerancce has become a hot commodity. Spending time with Lew Griffin is refreshing. He knows he’s a flawed man, he knows he’s got scars he has to live with and he’s accepting. He doesn’t judge other people, he doesn’t give lessons, he goes with the flow. He trusts his backbone, keeps his word to his friends and chooses his battles.

Life is full of too many gray areas for them to be all mapped out and classified as compliant or not. Characters like Lew Griffin walk a narrow line in lives full of gray areas. Their self-doubt and their tolerance help them navigate the complicated waters of life. And in a way, they are patting the reader’s back and telling them they’re not alone in their own sea of gray areas and that they’re doing alright.

I closed my copy of Moth in awe of James Sallis. I loved this book and I’ve started to recommend it around me. I wish I could put Lew Griffin and Dave Robicheaux in a room and have them interviewed by Ron Rash. Imagine the vivid discussions about the South, poetry, jazz, politics, and literature. Imagine them talk about their life experiences, New Orleans and their friends and family. What a blast it would be. But, hey, who knows, maybe ChatGPT can do it for us?