The Sistuhs have been doin’ it in US crime fiction, well in fact, since Pauline E. Hopkins back in1900. But until Serpent’s Tail started to publish Charlotte Carter back in 1997, very few had made it over here. Now with the reissue of Rhode Island Red, and this one, once again featuring great-hearted, hip, lippy Nanette Hayes, saxophonist ordinaire, there’s no excuse for ignoring one of black crime fiction’s closest contenders for Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum.
Back from France minus her lover André, the fellow street musician from Coq au Vin, Nanette is about to hit rock bottom when Justin, gay manager of the topless dancing emporium that employs Nanette’s friend Aubrey, gives her a voodoo doll to change her luck. And so it does. So much so that Nanette invites Ida Williams, the Harlem folk artist that created the doll, to the restaurant gig that her good fortune has landed her with. Only for Ida to end up dead on the restaurant floor, shot in the head.
Now Nanette is no P.I. but she has a keen nose when something smells bad, and it’s not just for the odd street panhandler (“"the smell of alcohol and unwashed privates rose up off him like bayou swamp gas."”). But investigating Ida shows that Ida was far from being what she appeared to be. Nanette’s investigation takes her uptown to the wealthy families of the Upper East Side, the unlikely background of a recently murdered young rap performer.
Nanette is a great character. She’s confident, impulsive, has her ups and downs like the rest of us, and is courageous to the point of foolhardiness. She’s very much of her time (even though she hates rap and has great taste in saxophone players), having precious few hang-ups about race, and none at all about sex.
None of which is to suggest that Carter pulls her punches. Drumsticks may be a fast-moving, zippy read, light on its feet, but it punches above its weight when it comes to sharp observation of New York life and loves, both sides of the tracks, white and black. And whilst the plotting gets a little congested this time out, her eye for the rampant male (check out Leman Sweet and Dan Hinton in this one) remains as devastating as ever. Fans of chapter headings (whatever happened to chapter headings?) will also enjoy this one, particularly those for whom the names of such as Harry Warren, Billy Strayhorn and Lorenz Hart are not just so much wall-paper.
Do yourself a favour. Say yes, yes to Nanette.