During his stay in Savannah, author John Berendt picnics on Conrad Aiken's grave, catches an elderly woman committing vandalism with a ball-peen hammer, and drinks Madeira with a filthy rich, 50ish antiques dealer. He also observes a cognitive dissonance-inducing spat between this antiques dealer and a young guy with a marijuana-leaf tattoo and a "Fuck You" T-shirt. And that's just the first three chapters.

This "nonfiction novel" is filled with episodes that prove the old chestnut about truth being stranger than fiction. It's also gleefully self-referential, since all of Berendt's Savannah buddies assume that this hotshot New York writer is writing a book about them. "See, with all these weirdos you got filling up your book, I figure somebody's gonna have to play the good guy," says Joe Odom, "and it's beginning to look like it'll be me." That's Joe Odom, the thrice-divorced, check-bounding, piano-playing con man. Weirdos, indeed.

Just like real life, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil is filled with seemingly unrelated incidents and amusing anecdotes. The main plot follows nouveau riche Jim Williams (the aforementioned antiques baron) through his four trials for the murder of his part-time handyman and part-time lover, Danny Hansford (the aforementioned "Fuck You" man). Throw in some local politics, voodoo -- the book's title refers to the witching hour -- and a not-so-subtle dash of homophobia, and you've got the New Yorker's-eye-view of Savannah, Georgia circa 1981.

Other members of the peanut gallery include Minerva, the lottery-playing voodoo doctor; The Married Woman's Card Club, whose members end the card games early so they can go home and cook dinner for hubby; The Lady Chablis, a black (strike one) drag queen (strike two) with a white boyfriend (strike three); and assorted rednecks who call blacks "coloreds" and gays "hermaphrodites." Surprisingly, Berendt manages to portray this entire freakshow fairly objectively. From murderers to bigots to cranky old ladies, everyone is portrayed so evenhandedly that they're hard to hate.

Unfortunately, I'm not much for courtroom drama. By the time the Savannah Morning News trumpets "WILLIAMS FACES YET ANOTHER CONVICTION FOR MURDER," Savannah is a bit bored, and so am I. But remember, it's nonfiction. If you don't like the ending, tough luck.