Claire DeWitt and the City of the Dead

This is a hard boiled detective novel mixed with some mysticism. Like all hard boiled detectives, there is a whole lot of humanity that all lose. People disappoint you, but you get why they disappoint you, so you still care. Since this is a more modern hard boiled detective, she doesn't drink alcohol, but does drugs. There is violence, drugs, and a whole lot of pain in this story.
She is cynical, persistent, and moral, like all hard-boiled detectives. She's also convinced of her own greatness and importance. That doesn't work as well here as it does with the best of the hard boiled detectives. Maybe that's why I like the old time radio programs. They are only about 30 minutes long!
The mysticism helps Clair find her clues, so that is a different spin on the hard boiled detective trope. I don't hate Jacque Sillette, but sometimes it seems forced.
The part that really made me take stars away is the racism that Clair doesn't think she has. I think she puts on black face to disguise herself once. She prays in an Native American language, I think. She didn't use that word, so maybe she really did mean from India. I'm not sure, but either way it felt a little too much like a white savior mixed with a little cultural appropriation.
However I will probably read the next one.