Reading this book was a unique experience for me. Since it focuses on First Nations in America, some parts are tough and sad. I borrowed it from the library and wasn’t sure I’d finish before it was due, especially because of the heavy moments. But I felt I owed it to the main character to see it through. That’s never happened to me before. I’m glad I finished Cahokia Jazz. The story has really stayed with me, even though I’ve returned the book. 
The story takes place in an alternate history where European diseases only had a one percent fatality rate, so the First Nations remained mostly intact. Because of this, North America in the 1920s looks very different. There’s at least one First Nation state in the U.S., the Mormons haven’t joined the country, and westward expansion happened in new ways. Cahokia is across the Mississippi from St. Louis and is a mix of First Nations, Black, and white communities, blending tradition and industry.
While Cahokia is diverse, racial and class tensions are pretty much what someone in our timeline would expect. Two Cahokia municipal detectives, Barrow and Drummond, are friends and veterans from the Great War. They find themselves investigating a racially charged, gruesome murder. Their investigation can’t help but pull on taut strings that have implications not just for the victim’s family and the suspect(s), but also for the larger community.
Barrow is usually the POV character. He’s a giant but artistically-minded cop. His time is spent between acting as a muscle for the PD and acting as a sit-in pianist in the local jazz scene. He’s more…thoughtful than a lot of similarly-situated cops in other detective stories. I found him so compelling (as are many of the characters). I can’t decide if I’ll read this one again, kind of like Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. It’s great, but maybe once is enough.
4.5/5 rounded down for holiday break intensity.
