Glory Glory Hallelujah

One of the things I’ve always lamented is the shortage of Black Louisiana crime writers.

There have been Black characters who were the main characters in Louisiana crime series, but they were always written by white people and while I did enjoy some of the books, I always felt a little uncomfortable with reading them. Can a white person really do a Black main character in a Louisiana crime series justice? I am sure if I went back and reread them now I’d find them more problematic than I did in the first place.

So, when my friend Ellen Byron recommended that I should read Danielle Arseneaux’ debut novel, Glory Be, I couldn’t wait to get a copy and read it.

And I am so grateful that I did, because it’s an absolute joy.

Glory Broussard was tired of waiting. She figured this barista was new, and she would know since she was a regular at CC’s Coffee House. With each drink order, he nodded and flipped through the pages of a thick manual, going back and forth between the espresso machine and the book.

It didn’t help that he was grinning like a goddamn fool at that white woman. She was wearing a pink ribbed tank top, and as far as Glory could tell, no bra. Her jean shorts were so scant that you could see the bottom curve of her ass. Glory had seen enough of this recently at the Acadiana Mall to know it was not an accident but a trend, and a disgraceful one at that. Wet hair crept down to her waist, making her look like a creature that had crawled out of the Atchafalaya Swamp.

Glory edges up to the counter, closely behind the braless woman. “Excuse me,” she said to the barista. “Are you the only one working behind the counter? Y’all should be better staffed for the after-church crowd.”

“I’m not sure. I’m new here.”

“Clearly.” She wiped the sweat from her forehead, a useless gesture in Louisiana this time of year.

What made this even more exciting to me was the book wasn’t set in New Orleans–as so many inevitably are–but in Lafayette, which was also refreshing. Lafayette is a more Cajun city than New Orleans, and is the heart of what we call Acadiana here. I really like Lafayette; I went up there with some friends who were touring Louisiana and had a great time and some truly great food. It’s also a gorgeous little city, too, with lots of charm and its own Carnival, and very different than New Orleans.

The above is the opening sequence in which Arsenault introduces us to Glory Broussard, a deftly drawn, deeply complex character who worked as the produce manager at a grocery store for years until she got custody of her ex’s betting book in the divorce and took over for him, spending every Sunday after church at CC’s and taking bets. Glory is prickly and proud, and never takes any slight lightly. By the end of the first chapter her best friend, a nun she grew up with named Sister Amity Gay, has committed suicide. Glory doesn’t believe it for a minute and is furious when the police write it off as a suicide, even though she is certain Amity would have never committed suicide…so she decides to take it upon herself to investigate for them.

The investigation itself is worthy enough for reading, but the way the book is structured, the way Arsenault slowly plays out her cards letting us get to know Glory better by revealing why she is the way she is at the opening of the book truly kicks into gear where her lawyer daughter Delphine shows up, ostensibly to help her fight the condemnation of her house the city is processing because of complaints–and by showing the house through Delphine’s eyes, as well as her mother, gives us an entirely new perspective on Glory herself, as she also recruits Delphine to help her look into Amity’s death…and oddly enough, there are any number of motives for someone to want Amity out of the way–including the corruption behind a new petrochemical plant’s approval that Amity is fighting–as well as a connection to the drug kingpin of Acadiana.

I loved getting to know Glory, I loved seeing her take charge of her own life again after several years of depression, and the pages simply flew past. Arsenault has an amazing gift for a turn of phrase, all of them purely Louisiana, and a masterful authorial voice.

I can’t wait to read the next one.