There has been a lot of ink spilled lately over James Lee Burke and the David Robicheaux/Billy Bob Holland conundrum. Burke has seen fit to create two ongoing series featuring primary characters with more parallels than not: both are ex-law enforcement officers, both are haunted by the ghosts of past actions (literally, in Holland's case), and both are a lightning rod for righteous violence despite their best efforts to avoid it. The issue that seems to enmesh many critics is why create a character --- Holland --- almost identical to that of an already existing one --- Robicheaux --- who is quite popular in his own right?

There are several potential answers to this. One sidereal one is that the similarities between the two characters might not be so marked if Burke's perspective, his voice, were not so distinctive and strong. No one right now is writing quite like Burke; his turns of phrase, always magnificent, continue to dazzle page by page, if not paragraph by paragraph. His power of description of nature and background and, yes, of violent acts and the people who commit them appears to be indelible in American literature. Is it any wonder, then, that his protagonists blur around the edges and then some? And in the ultimate analysis, so what? If by such distinctions he keeps his writing at such levels as demonstrated in BITTERROOT, should we not welcome a new Holland book, rather than bemoan Holland's similarities to Robicheaux?

BITTERROOT finds Holland in Missoula, Montana at the invitation of his friend Doc Voss, a haunted Vietnam veteran who appears to have made a lasting, if uneasy, peace with himself and his past actions. Holland intends to spend an idyllic three months fishing amidst the beauty of the Montana landscape but soon finds himself embroiled in trouble involving not only his old friend but also himself. Voss has become involved in a protest over mining rights, while Holland's difficulties are a psychotic package of roiling trouble named Wyatt Dixon. Dixon, a recently released parolee with a mountain-sized grudge against Holland, has shown up in Missoula, supposedly accidentally, while working as a rodeo clown. He begins dogging Holland's footsteps, probing the perimeters of those whom Holland loves, making his presence known and his threats and intentions all too clear. Holland, in the meantime, is complicating his own life by becoming involved with Cleo Lonnigan, a woman with a history that includes murder and the mob, and a present that includes involvement with Holland's friend Voss. Holland's poor judgment in this regard comes to haunt him when his son, Lucas, and Temple, his investigator and erstwhile lover, come to Missoula uninvited by Holland but at Voss's request when Voss, unexpectedly, is accused of murder. Holland suddenly has more people to protect, and Dixon has more targets --- and the circles Dixon makes around his prey are becoming smaller and smaller.

Some of Burke's best descriptive writing can be found in BITTERROOT. Burke knows the Missoula area well; he resides there during part of the year, and the passages describing his environment are written with a love and reverence for the land. The climax of BITTERROOT leaves open the possibility that future Holland novels will be set there, as opposed to Texas; it is even possible that Burke is setting up a novel involving an encounter between Robicheaux and Holland, given that Robicheaux is no stranger to that area himself. No matter what Burke decides to do, however, with Billy Bob Holland, the results will no doubt be worthy of reading.

   --- Reviewed by Joe Hartlaub

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