The city of New Orleans would seem, on a surface level, to be an ideal setting for literary fiction. It’s got an excess of texture, atmosphere, and native intrigue. It’s got ghosts, funk, and grit. It’s got sin and sweat and sauce piquante. Setting a story in New Orleans, one might think, should be something like running a photo through an Instagram filter: ready-made ambience, quick-cooking gravitas.
Hardly ever, though, does it play
