FICTION

VODOUN: A Novel by David Madsen (William Morrow: $23; 369 pp.). When you read a novel involving voodoo, you expect a certain amount of implausibility. In this case, though, you’re likely to shake your head in disbelief not during the scenes involving occult religious rites but at the adolescent narcissism of its narrator and his improbable appeal to women. Ray Falco, a respected investigative reporter, has burned out on the corrupt-politician beat, but is brought out of retirement by an irresistible urge to track down the origins of a loup- garou --the Haitian werewolf, who leaves his skin behind as warning or prophecy. Falco soon ferrets out the werewolf’s intended prey, exiled Haitian politico Jean-Mars Baptiste--and immediately kills him, to the reporter’s surprise as much as Baptiste’s. Falco, it seems, has become a zombie in book galleys, and “Vodoun” describes his attempt to track down the man who stole his free will before Falco is again compelled to kill at his tormentor’s command. The path leads to Haiti, of course; requires Falco to team up with a smart, beautiful Haitian, of course; involves Washington skulduggery and cynical journalistic wisecracking, also of course. The novelty of “Vodoun” lies in Falco’s particular possession, for his soul has been overtaken by that of a young U.S. diplomat, Nicholas Townsend, sent to Port-au-Prince in 1792 to assess the slave revolt on Saint Domingue; during his intermittent zombie states Falco is compelled to transcribe Townsend’s diary, including his capture and alliance with slave leader General Charlemagne. The novel is surely more campy than L.A. resident David Madsen intended--”Vodoun, again tapping into my truest, deepest desire to get the story or die trying”--but “Vodoun’s” campiness, in the end, allows the reader to forgive Madsen’s often overwrought prose and Falco’s abidingly oversized ego.