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James Lee Burke

Rain Gods: A Novel (A Holland Family Novel) Taschenbuch – 25. Mai 2010

Englisch Ausgabe von James Lee Burke (Autor)

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Buch 2 von 3: Hackberry Holland

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“America’s best novelist” (The Denver Post ) brings back one of his most fascinating characters— Texas sheriff Hackberry Holland, cousin to lawman Billy Bob Holland—in this heart-pounding bestseller.

In a heat-cracked border town, the bodies of nine illegal aliens—women and girls, killed execution-style—are unearthed in a shallow grave. Haunted by a past he can’t shake and his own private demons, Hack attempts to untangle the grisly case, which may lead to more bloodshed. Damaged young Iraq vet Pete Flores, who saw too much before fleeing the crime scene, and his girlfriend, Vikki Gaddis, are running for their lives. Sorting through the lowlifes who are hunting down Pete, and with Preacher Jack Collins, a Godfearing serial killer for hire, in the mix, Hack is caught up in a terrifying race for survival—for Pete, Vikki, and himself.

Seitenzahl der Print-Ausgabe

688 Seiten
Sprache

Englisch
Herausgeber

Pocket Star
Erscheinungstermin

25. Mai 2010
Abmessungen

10.48 x 3.56 x 19.05 cm
ISBN-10

1439128308
ISBN-13

978-1439128305
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James Lee Burke
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Produktbeschreibungen

Über den Autor und weitere Mitwirkende

James Lee Burke is a New York Times bestselling author, two-time winner of the Edgar Award, and the recipient of the Guggenheim Fellowship for Creative Arts in Fiction. He has authored forty novels and two short story collections. He lives in Missoula, Montana.

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Rain Gods

1

ON THE BURNT-OUT end of a July day in Southwest Texas, in a crossroads community whose only economic importance had depended on its relationship to a roach paste factory the EPA had shut down twenty years before, a young man driving a car without window glass stopped by an abandoned blue-and-white stucco filling station that had once sold Pure gas during the Depression and was now home to bats and clusters of tumbleweed. Next to the filling station was a mechanic’s shed whose desiccated boards lay collapsed upon a rusted pickup truck with four flat bald tires. At the intersection a stoplight hung from a horizontal cable strung between two power poles, its plastic covers shot out by .22 rifles.

The young man entered a phone booth and wiped his face slick with the flat of his hand. His denim shirt was stiff with salt and open on his chest, his hair mowed into the scalp, GI-style. He pulled an unlabeled pint bottle from the front of his jeans and unscrewed the cap. Down the right side of his face was a swollen pink scar that was as bright and shiny as plastic and looked pasted onto the skin rather than part of it. The mescal in the bottle was yellow and thick with threadworms that seemed to light against the sunset when he tipped the neck to his mouth. Inside the booth, he could feel his heart quickening and lines of sweat running down from his armpits into the waistband of his undershorts. His index finger trembled as he punched in the numbers on the phone’s console.

“What’s your emergency?” a woman dispatcher asked.

The rolling countryside was the color of a browned biscuit, stretching away endlessly, the monotony of rocks and creosote brush and grit and mesquite trees interrupted only by an occasional windmill rattling in the breeze.

“Last night there was some shooting here. A lot of it,” he said. “I heard it in the dark and saw the flashes.”

“Shooting where?”

“By that old church. I think that’s what happened. I was drinking. I saw it from down the road. It scared the doo-doo out of me.”

There was a pause. “Are you drinking now, sir?”

“Not really. I mean, not much. Just a few hits of Mexican worm juice.”

“Tell us where you are, and we’ll send out a cruiser. Will you wait there for a cruiser to come out?”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with me. A lot of wets go through here. There’s oceans of trash down by the border. Dirty diapers and moldy clothes and rotted food and tennis shoes without strings in them. Why would they take the strings out of their tennis shoes?”

“Is this about illegals?”

“I said I heard somebody busting caps. That’s all I’m reporting. Maybe I heard a tailgate drop. I’m sure I did. It clanked in the dark.”

“Sir, where are you calling from?”

“The same place I heard all that shooting.”

“Give me your name, please.”

“What name they got for a guy so dumb he thinks doing the right thing is the right thing? Answer me that, please, ma’am.”

He tried to slam down the receiver on the hook but missed. The phone receiver swung back and forth from the phone box as the young man with the welted pink scar on his face drove away, road dust sucking back through the glassless windows of his car.

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER, at sunset, the sky turned to turquoise; then the strips of black cloud along the horizon were backlit by a red brilliance that was like the glow of a forge, as though the cooling of the day were about to be set into abeyance so the sun’s heat could prevail through the night into the following dawn. Across the street from the abandoned filling station, a tall man in his seventies, wearing western-cut khakis and hand-tooled boots and an old-fashioned gun belt and a dove-colored Stetson, parked his truck in front of what appeared to be the shell of a Spanish mission. The roof had caved onto the floor, and the doors had been twisted off the hinges and carried inside and broken up and used for firewood by homeless people or teenage vandals. The only tree in the crossroads community was a giant willow; it shaded one side of the church and created a strange effect of shadow and red light on the stucco walls, as though a grass fire were approaching the structure and about to consume it.

In reality, the church had been built not by Spaniards or Mexicans but by an industrialist who had become the most hated man in America after his company security forces and members of the Colorado militia massacred eleven children and two women during a miners’ strike in 1914. Later, the industrialist reinvented himself as a philanthropist and humanitarian and rehabilitated his family name by building churches around the country. But the miners did not get their union, and this particular church became a scorched cipher that few associate with the two women and eleven children who had tried to hide in a root cellar while the canvas tent above them rained ash and flame upon their heads.

The tall man was wearing a holstered blue-black white-handled revolver. Unconsciously, he removed his hat when he entered the church, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the deep shadows inside the walls. The oak flooring had been ripped up and hauled away by a contractor, and the dirt underneath was green and cool with lack of sunlight, packed down hard, humped in places, smelling of dampness and the feces of field mice. Scattered about the church’s interior, glinting like gold teeth, were dozens of brass shell casings.

The tall man squatted down, his gunbelt creaking, his knees popping. He picked up a casing on the end of a ballpoint pen. It, like all the others, was .45-caliber. He cleared his throat softly and spat to one side, unable to avoid the odor that the wind had just kicked up outside. He rose to his feet and walked out the back door and gazed at a field that had been raked by a bulldozer’s blade, the cinnamon-colored dirt scrolled and stenciled by the dozer’s steel treads.

The tall man returned to his pickup truck and removed a leaf rake and a long-handled shovel from the bed. He walked into the field and sank the steel tip of the shovel blade with the weight of his leg and haunch and struck a rock, then reset the blade in a different spot and tried again. This time the blade went deep, all the way up to his boot sole, as though it were cutting through compacted coffee grounds rather than dirt. When he pulled the shovel free, an odor rose into his nostrils that made his throat close against the bilious surge in his stomach. He soaked a bandana from a canteen in his truck and wrapped it around the lower half of his face and knotted it behind his head. Then he walked slowly across the field, jabbing the inverted half of the rake handle into the ground. Every three or four feet, at the same depth, he felt a soft form of resistance, like a sack of feed whose burlap has rotted and split, the dry dirt rilling back into the hole each time he pulled the wood shaft from the surface. The breeze had died completely. The air was green with the sun’s last light, the sky dissected by birds, the air stained by a growing stench that seemed to rise from his boots into his clothes. The tall man inverted the rake, careful not to touch the tip that he had pushed below the soil, and began scraping at a depression that a feral animal had already crosshatched with claw marks.

The tall man had many memories from his early life...

Produktinformation

Herausgeber ‏ : ‎ Pocket Star; Reprint Edition (25. Mai 2010)
Sprache ‏ : ‎ Englisch
Taschenbuch ‏ : ‎ 688 Seiten
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1439128308
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1439128305
Abmessungen ‏ : ‎ 10.48 x 3.56 x 19.05 cm

Amazon Bestseller-Rang: Nr. 1,737,665 in Bücher (Siehe Top 100 in Bücher)
- Nr. 37,806 in Suspense-Thriller
- Nr. 106,533 in Krimis (Bücher)
- Nr. 158,091 in Literatur (Bücher)

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676 Sternebewertungen

Informationen zum Autor

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James Lee Burke

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James Lee Burke, 1936 in Louisiana geboren, wurde bereits Ende der Sechzigerjahre von der Literaturkritik als neue Stimme aus dem Süden gefeiert. Nach drei erfolgreichen Romanen wandte er sich Mitte der Achtzigerjahre dem Kriminalroman zu, in dem er die unvergleichliche Atmosphäre von New Orleans mit packenden Storys verband. Burke wurde als einer von wenigen Autoren zweimal mit dem Edgar-Allan-Poe-Preis für den besten Kriminalroman des Jahres ausgezeichnet. 2015 erhielt er für Regengötter den Deutschen Krimi Preis. Er lebt in Missoula, Montana.

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4,4 von 5

676 globale Bewertungen

5 Sterne		62%
4 Sterne		25%
3 Sterne		10%
2 Sterne		2%
1 Stern		2%

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Lienz

Howdy from Texas!

Kundenrezension aus Deutschland 🇩🇪 am 17. Mai 2015

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James Lee Burke versteht es, mit geschickter Wortwahl schöne Bilder in den Kopf des Lesers zu malen. Wessen Amerikanisch gut genug ist, sollte sich dem Genuss im Original hingeben. Die Besonderheit dabei ist die texanische Färbung der Sprache. Deswegen und weil ich die genannten Orte alle kenne, hat mich das Buch im Handumdrehen in seinen Bann gezogen. Ich konnte direkt die staubige Erde, den Duft von Mesquite-Bäumen und das Curlymesquite-Gras riechen. Licht, Land und Leute waren sofort präsent.
Die Charaktere sind überzeugend gezeichnet, dabei ganz besonders Jack Collins. Er ist ein unberechenbarer Bösewicht mit unerwartet viel Herz. Dieser Charakter ist hervorrangend gelungen. Der Protagonist Hackberry Holland mit seiner besonderen Beziehung zu seiner Deputy Pam Tibbs ist einerseits mit zarter Feder überzeugend gezeichnet: ein alternder Mann und und eine Frau in den besten Jahren, die sich in ihn verliebt hat. Auf der anderen, der harten Sheriff-Seite - sprich Agilität und schnelle Reaktion - kann er mich mit seinen Mitte 70 nicht ganz überzeugen, auch wenn ein Roman viel Wunschdenken enthalten soll und darf.
Die Handlung wird aus der Perspektive der verschiedenen Charaktere erzählt und ergibt ein im Wesentlichen rundes Ganzes. Tatsächlich stören die häufigen Perspektivenwechsel nicht, ich fühle mich dadurch an einen Film mit variierenden Einstellungen erinnert.
Warum der Titel "Raingods - Regengötter" lautet, ergibt sich aus der Lektüre.
Das Titelbild auf der amerikanischen Ausgabe gefällt mir wesentlich besser als das auf der deutschen. Denn es passt zu Texas, während das deutsche Cover eher nichtssagend erscheint. Die deutsche Ausgabe firmiert als Thriller, auf der amerikanischen steht davon nichts. Und das trifft es auch. Es ist ein Kriminalroman.
Wer sich das amerikanische Buch kauft, muss allerdings die schlechte (und in den USA durchaus übliche) Bindung in Kauf nehmen. Anders ausgedrückt: nicht kräftig aufblättern, sonst hat man zwei oder mehr Bücher ... Damit verringert sich die Weitergabemöglichkeit. Was ich allerdings grundsätzlich gut finde. Denn jeder Autor hat viel Mühe in sein Werk gesteckt.
Von mir gibt es dreieinhalb von fünf Sternen, weil das Buch meine Erwartungen nicht erfüllt hat. Es war trotz des schriftstellerischen Könnens von James Lee Burke und der Vielzahl der positiven Eindrücke schlichtweg zu langatmig. Ich habe es nicht zu Ende gelesen, werde das aber wohl irgendwann nachholen.
Raingods ist jedenfalls lesenswert.

Kundenrezension aus Deutschland 🇩🇪 am 27. Oktober 2019

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Bis jetzt der beste Roman aus der Reihe, wenn nicht ganz von dem Autor. Das Buch hat mich gepackt, gefesselt und neue sehr lebhafte und sehr reale Eindrücke über den Korea Krieg vermittelt. Die Krimi-Story ist sehr gut, insbesondere das Spiel mit den sozialen Schichten hat mir exzellent gefallen. Sehr gerne gelens (verschlungen)!

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H. Krauss

Eine Neuentdeckung, die ich weiter verfolgen werde

Kundenrezension aus Deutschland 🇩🇪 am 17. Januar 2015

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James Lee Burke ist so anders als viele seiner amerikansichen Kollegen. Die Mischung aus Religiosität und libertärem Bürgersinn hat etwas Besonderes. Menschen wie Hackberry Holland und Kolleginnen machen Texas etwas sympatischer.

Kundenrezension aus Deutschland 🇩🇪 am 29. Dezember 2019

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if you like James Lee Burke

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Elisabeth Hewson

Exzellente Beschreibungen

Kundenrezension aus Deutschland 🇩🇪 am 27. Januar 2015

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Sehr amerikanisch geschrieben, viele teils höchst witzige Redewendungen, und eine wirklich gute Beschreibung der Gegend, der Stimmungen, der Proponenten. Auch jüdischer Redewitz kommt nicht zu kurz, es gibt überraschende Wendungen und glaubhafte Zufälle. Etwas viele Personen mit mehreren Namen - man sollte es also in einem durchlesen.

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Donald Mitchell

Characters Worth Developing in an Ugly Story of Seeking Redemption

Kundenrezension aus Deutschland 🇩🇪 am 13. September 2009

"For the day of vengeance was in my heart, and the year of my redemption has come." -- Isaiah 63:4

In Rain Gods, James Lee Burke takes flight from familiar territory and characters to spin a new tale of people mangled by life who try to gain redemption on their own. Without God on their side, it's an uphill battle that provides much frustration for all involved. In terms familiar to Burke fans, two of the leading characters have returned broken from war, one internally and the other internally and externally. Caught by their pasts, the characters are slow to pick up on the opportunities in the present.

I thought that the best writing in the book came in the descriptions of the hardscrabble Texas plains. I could almost feel the heat, dry wind, and promise of rain in the air.

While all of the major characters are conflicted to some degree, Burke's nuanced depiction of a killer for hire with scruples permits us to see that the face of evil is seldom totally black. The Preacher's tendency to be unpredictable is what makes the plot worth unraveling.

At the same time, this plot develops very slowly and leaves out major characters for a hundred pages at a time. Unless you like fine patinas of character development, reading this book can seem like watching paint dry for those who like lots of action in their crime stories and police procedurals. I found that the newness of the characters and territory made that slow evolution bearable, not still noticeable.

Fans of fine descriptive writing will be pleased with the book. Here's a passing reference to local color: "A redheaded turkey vulture flew by immediately over Hackberry's head, gliding so fast on extended wings that its shadow broke apart on a pile of boulders and was gone before Hackberry could blink."

Enjoy!

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Mike Alexander

Rain Gods: Apocalyptic Horsemen and Outriders

Kundenrezension aus Großbritannien 🇬🇧 am 29. Juli 2009

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This latest novel about life and death in Southern Texas covers a period in the life of Hackberry Holland, an aging sheriff with some of the attributes of Dave Robicheaux, a history of alcohol abuse particularly. Hack's military history is of the Korean War with all of its primitive cruelty and although the story is set in contemporary times, Hack's memories are vivid and alive. His professional partner is a female sheriff's deputy, a subtle blend of Clete and Helen, readers will know who I am writing about.
A chilling crime initiates the story and Hack along with deputy Pam is drawn into the investigation of the crime, along with an FBI investigator and a Immigration investigator. The latter coming into the story with a seemingly inappropriate history. There are several unpleasant characters, all reflections of the horsemen of the apocalypse or outriders to that group. An Irish psychopath with psychotic delusions of his cosmic importance is a strange inclusion. Although the perpetrator of the dreadful crime, his inclusion amongst shady business men from Louisiana and Texas needs a clearer explanation.
As usual, James Lee Burke's writing is colourful and imaginative, especially his metaphorical descriptions of the landscape. Woven into the story are some historical facts concerning The Alamo battle and consequesnces which will appeal to readers with an historical interest.
I found the similarities with Robicheaux somewhat frustrating as if Hack was overlaid and then altered to fit; The Korean War vs Vietnam;a history of alcohol abuse; a potentially violent partner, are just a few of these that make Hack seem just a tad unreal.
Coming so close after Swan Peak I found the read not quite as enthralling and that is perhpas because I am a keener fan of Robicheaux. Overall, I would recommend the novel as a study of the often pivotal nature of human evil. Fortunately, the horsemen and outriders, in the main, come to appropriate ends.
Yet again a good read.
Mike Alexander

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John LEstrange

a Great read

Kundenrezension aus Großbritannien 🇬🇧 am 30. Oktober 2010

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James Lee Burke says this novel is his favourite, i'm inclined to agree. It was a great story with one of the best, most complex villians I've ever had the pleasure to read about. The beauty Burke finds in the desolation of his environs is evident in his flowing prose, which is brought into stark relief by the contrasting flashbacks to the Korean jungle. Burke, more than any of his contemporaries, is able to show the reader the tortured souls that are his protaganists, and he manages to elicit sympathy and revulsion for all of them, hero and villian alike. It is his complex protrayal of the carachters that sets him apart from the rest.

Burke's novel has more social commentary than any that has gone before, and my one criticism is the overy simplistic imagery used in the finale. I, for better or worse, read fiction for the pleasure of escapism. I have my own opinions on the current war of ideologies that exists in the world, and while I don't disagree with Burke, I like to keep my fiction and fact pile of books very seperate.

All in all, I have to highly recommend this book and would encourage anyone who has not read James Lee Burke to start immediately.

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John N.

An intriguing family saga.

Kundenrezension aus Großbritannien 🇬🇧 am 22. Oktober 2017

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The Holland family saga quietly grabs the readers attention and helps inform us all how an ancient land was transformed in less than two hundred years to the dynamic nation that put men on the moon.
All achieved by a disparate population who by working together achieved a wonder of the ages.
I look forward to reading the next installment which is already on my book shelf. Thank you James Lee Burke.

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D

Burke weaves his magic again

Kundenrezension aus Großbritannien 🇬🇧 am 2. Februar 2010

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Rain Gods is slightly different, not having one of James Lee Burke's usual characters; however, this kind of focuses on Pete who has now grown up. I am sorry that he has jumped from a kid to a veteran soldier unless I've missed a book. It is a rather complicated plot, but it is nice that Pete has retained the decency imparted to him by Billy Bob Holland although he has his problems with alcohol. I am only two thirds through the book so am unsure how it will all pan out. However, no matter what the plot Burke manages to paint such clear pictures of everything so that one can almost imagine being there- seeing, hearing and smelling. This is his great strength.

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Dudley Clark

Strong characters, bleak landscape

Kundenrezension aus Großbritannien 🇬🇧 am 6. März 2013

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There are some strong characters interwoven with descriptive passages of the bleak landscape where most of the action takes place. The sense of drama is ever present. This is my first by this author, and I tried a second and found quite a lot of the same characters continuing the same parts in the same landscape but in a different drama. And why not? If you have the characters, work them hard. I suspect that there are more adventures for this crew.

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Rain Gods: A Novel (A Holland Family Novel) Taschenbuch – 25. Mai 2010

Beliebte Titel dieses Autors

Produktbeschreibungen

Über den Autor und weitere Mitwirkende

Leseprobe. Abdruck erfolgt mit freundlicher Genehmigung der Rechteinhaber. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

1

Produktinformation

Informationen zum Autor

James Lee Burke

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