Tremble + Ennui

Former banker Nicaud writes an uproarious, quicksilver love song to New Orleans in his debut novel (completed seven years ago), which follows two exquisitely lame deadbeats around the city. Tremble, weight-obsessed and in search of a wealthy husband, refuses to marry Ennui, who is far from wealthy, but they both agree, from their house on Soraparu Street, that life's pleasures do not include work. (Says the former to the latter: "I would throw you out, except you make excellent martinis.") Neither has a conscience: Tremble cashes a former tenant's welfare checks, and Ennui steals their friend Bertel's car with a real sense of entitlement. Both of them watch scenes of violence without flinching. They get in a lot of trouble in a very short time, and they encounter a host of Southern stereotypes (penniless aristocrats in crumbling mansions; men who wander the house in Confederate uniform; unwaveringly pious streetcar drivers) along the way. Nicaud's relentless deadpan humor and his love of New Orleans serve as a sturdy foundation for the madcap, crime-filled drinking sprees and remorseless hedonism of this lively duo. Even when the aimless plot is frustrating, their exchanges are always funny. (Feb.)