Harriet Devine's Blog

Maigret and the Good People of Montparnasse

This is the most recent of the new Penguin translations of Simenon's Maigret novels. It was first published in French in 1962, so relatively late in the series -- Simenon's extraordinarily prolific output slowed down considerably later in his life, and he stopped publishing in the 1970s. But Maigret, though he obviously must be around thirty years older than in his first appearance in print, shows no real signs of ageing.

It's the end of a hot summer in Paris. The Maigrets have been back from a three-week holiday for eight days, but Maigret still feels as if he's floundering. Nothing significant has happened at work and he's looking forward to getting back into the swim of things, so he actually welcomes the call that comes in the middle of the night and drags him out of a restless sleep. 

Sitting up now, Maigret reached for the pipe that he'd left on the bedside table to burn itself out when he'd gone to bed. He looked around for matches. Madame Maigret went to fetch some from the mantelpiece....Even the smell of the tobacco has a professional quality to it: that of a pipe relit in the middle of the night when a man is woken up in an emergency. The aroma of coffee too was different from that of morning coffee. And the smell of petrol wafting in through the open window...

So Maigret is not sorry to be called out to Montparnasse, where a murder has been reported. He finds himself in a comfortable middle-class apartment: a middle-aged woman and her adult daughter have returned from a trip to the theatre and found the woman's husband dead in an armchair. He has been shot. But nobody has heard or seen anything, and there is no obvious motive. M. Josselin was a respectable retired factory-owner with not a stain on his record and no apparent enemies. How can Maigret solve the crime?

Well of course he does and of course I'm not going to tell you how. But a great part of the fascination of this and the rest of the novels in the series I've read is the charm of the setting and the general atmosphere. Right from the beginning as you can see from the extract quoted above, we get a taste of the home life of the Maigrets - Madame Maigret so used to getting up in the middle of the night to make coffee, their regular trip to the cinema the evening before (they hadn't enjoyed the film much, but wanted to get back to their usual routine after their long break). Then, when Maigret finds himself in the Montparnasse apartment he is surrounded by a very different class of society from that of the criminal underworld which is his normal everyday concern. These are people with plenty of money, elegantly dressed, with cultured tastes and antique furniture. Madame Josselin is polite and reserved, showing no apparent emotion despite the shockingly sudden violent death of her husband. Her doctor son-in-law seems equally detached - he's a dedicated paediatrician, much loved and admired among his colleagues and patients, with seemingly little time for home life. Then there's the concierge of the building, juggling her working hours and looking after a small baby. Could any of these people shed light on the mystery?

One of the great joys of the Maigret novels is the way Simenon shows the detective gently feeling his way into the psychology of the people involved in any given crime. Here he looks not only at the survivors but also at the life of the victim - at Josselin's simple daily routine in his retirement, a cup of coffee in the bar, a newspaper, a walk to the Luxembourg Gardens. Paris becomes another subsidiary character here as it does in many of the novels. I think there are seventy-five of them, and I've still many left to read, which is a pleasant thought.

 

Woman Reading

This is Madame Helleu Reading by her husband, the French artist Paul Cesar Helleu (1859-1927), ' best known for his numerous portraits of beautiful society women of the Belle Époque' says Wikipedia. He evidently married one of them. Kindly sent to me by Dark Puss.

Invisible City by Julia Dahl

I seem to be reading mostly crime novels at the moment. No particular reason for this that I can think of - they're just what's attracting me. I've long given up on entering challenges as I find I can only read according to my mood at the time, and, whatever that may say about me right now, I'm definitely in the mood for crime. 

Some months ago I read Julia Dahl's most recent novel, Conviction, and somehow was not entirely grabbed by it. What I hadn't taken on board was the fact that it was actually number three in a series featuring the young New York journalist Rebekah Roberts. Invisible City is the first in the series. It was first published in 2014, but Faber has just reprinted it and I'm very glad they have as it's an exceptionally good and interesting novel.

Rebekah has an interesting back-story. Her parents met when they were very young and fell in love. It was not an easy relationship as her father was, and is, a Christian, and her mother Aviva a Hasidic Jew from a very strict and controlling background. The two of them ran away together to Florida, but Aviva quickly found she couldn't live outside her community and left, shortly after Rebekah's birth. She hasn't seen or heard of her mother since then and knows little about the Hasidic community and beliefs. But all this is about to change when she is called out to an apparent murder scene in Brooklyn, A woman's body has been discovered in a scrapyard, which turns out to belong to a wealthy Hasidic Jew. But before the police can get to the scene, a van has turned up into which the body is hurriedly placed, to be driven off to a special Hasid mortuary. Clearly someone wants to keep the police out of it, and Rebekah is shocked to find that the body - which turns out to be that of Rivka Mendlesson, the wife of the scrapyard owner - is to be buried without an autopsy.

Puzzled by the mysterious circumstances and by the Hasids' unwillingness to speak, Rebekah encounters a policeman who is also a member of the community. He's able to explain some of the customs and beliefs that are puzzling her, but his some of his first words throw her into great confusion: 'I knew your mother....You look exactly like her'. More information than that he is unwilling to give, but he offers to help her with her investigation into the circumstances surrounding Rivka's death. She manages to interview Rivka's sister-in-law, without getting much further with the mystery, but as the days go by she discovers a special building on Coney Island where Orthodox Jews can go when they are 'questioning' - asking difficult questions about their beliefs and customs. Indeed Rebekah's mother is believed to have gone there herself.  It transpires that Rivka had a lover and may have been planning to elope. But many developments are going to happen before Rebekah discovers the truth behind this savage murder and the cloak of secrecy thrown over it by the Rivka's husband and his associates.

So yes the plot is exciting and satisfying, but the added attraction of this highly readable and intelligent novel is the way it deals with the thinking and motivation behind Hasidic Judaism. Rebekah is initially shocked and rather repelled by the closed orthodoxy and finds it hard to sympathise with her mother's decision to return to the fold. But after a meeting with a woman who explains the reasoning behind their insularity opens her eyes to much that had seemed so confusing:

Most Haredi in Brooklyn are descended from Holocaust survivors....We know that to survive we must rely on one another, we must support and protect our fellow Jews. We do not do this because we do not believe that sin should be punished. We do this because the strength of the community is vital to our survival. You look at us and you see black hats and wigs and you think we are to be pitied. You think you know better. But you do not see more than you see....You think that clothing that exposes your flesh makes you free. But in my modest clothing I am free from the leering eyes of men. I am free to be judged by my intellect and actions, not my body.

There's much to enjoy and admire in this thought-provoking novel. Rebekah is an attractive protagonist - bright and energetic, she's determined to succeed in her chosen career of journalism but as a 'stringer' she is very far down the pecking order. On top of that she suffers from anxiety attacks and is naturally troubled by her lack of knowledge about her mother. The final lines of the novel promise a possible meeting between mother and daughter - I absolutely must get hold of the second in the series to see what happens next.

 

 

 

Woman Reading

This is a self-portrait by the brilliant British artist Laura Knight (1877-1970), sent to me by my friend Susanna.

A Banquet of Consequences by Elizabeth George

I read this novel in French, having got stuck in a small nearby airport waiting for a delayed flight arrival - I seized this as reading material to pass the two hour wait. What a curious book it is. I've read quite a few by George, but gave up some years ago having got intensely irritated by her faux English class system and her attempts at colloquial English language, especially in the mouth of feisty cockney Barbara Havers. Fortunately I was spared that as it obviously defeated the translator.

I was completely bemused when I started reading as there was no sign of posh DI Lynley and his chippy sidekick Havers. Instead we meet a crowd of other people, one of whom soon commits suicide by jumping off a cliff. But as for a murder, you have to wait for about a quarter of the novel to go by before someone actually dies under mysterious circumstances and the detectives finally put in an appearance. The murder takes place in Devon, but Scotland Yard is somehow called upon to investigate and it's Havers, together with a dishy black detective, who are assigned to the task. Havers is actually in danger of being sent to work in the north-east of England because of her bad behaviour, but Lynley pleads for her to have one more chance. Not sure if this would actually happen in real life policing.

The two detectives actually take up residence in the victim's house to pursue their investigation. Could this really happen? It sounds way out of order to me. After a huge amount of faffing around they get enough evidence to accuse someone, who confesses. But that's not quite the end of the story...

At well over 700 pages this was a long read and I found it a most  peculiar one. I had to ask a friend, who had just read it, if I'd missed something at the end because it seemed so odd. Interestingly I've now got hold of another one by George, also in French, but published much earlier (the present one is fairly recent) and it's much more conventional and much shorter. Do publishers urge their authors to write blockbusters these days? 

In case you're wondering, yes, I can read in French but there are some words and phrases I don't understand. Sometimes I look them up but generally just press on as I get the general sense of what's being said. I'm hoping it will improve my command of the language and anyway it's fun.

Shiny Review - another Zola

I've read a few Zolas for Shiny and this is the latest, just up on the site. Amazingly, though the novel was published in the 1880s, this is the first twentieth-century English translation. Taking place in a small village on the Normandy coast, this is the story of  young Pauline Quenu, who is sent to live with a family of relatives when she is ten. As a teenager she falls deeply in love with her cousin Lazare, but though the two get engaged, Lazare is feckless and unreliable and when another young woman comes into the household Pauline's hopes are dashed. Pauline suffers greatly but her natural optimism and good spirits keep her on an even keel.

There's more passion, and more suffering both mental and physical than I can remember reading in any 19th century novel. Here's what I said at the end:

All in all this is a remarkable picture of bourgeois French life in the late nineteenth century, and one that seems wholly credible and authentic. The descriptions of the environment, and in particular the terrible power of the sea, are extraordinary – indeed, in its destructive force the sea seems to offer a parallel to the consuming physical passions which overwhelm the characters. Lazare, his keen intelligence coupled with an inability to sustain his enthusiasm for any project, is simultaneously sympathetic and infuriating. But above all, at the centre of the novel, is Pauline. In less able hands she could be an irritatingly virtuous Victorian heroine, but she’s far from that. Intelligent, generous and loving, she is also immensely human, and admirably proud of her strong young body and its capacity for love and for childbirth. Well aware of the failings of her adopted family, she forgives and nurtures them in their pain and distress. All credit to World’s Classics for making this new version available. Highly recommended.

People Reading

This is Subway Riders in NYC, by the Uruguayan-American painter F. Luis Mora (1874-1940). From the clothes I'm guessing it was painted sometime around 1910-1915. A nice slice of social history.

Woman with Letter

I do love a picture that tells a story. This one is not too hard to work out as it is called Indecision so I guess she's received a proposal from someone she's not too sure about. Maybe she loves someone else?

The painter is the Belgian artist Charles Baugnier (1814-1886)

Day of the Dead by Nicci French

Last year I was enthusing about the penultimate Frieda Klein novel, Sunday Morning Coming Down. In that review I said I couldn't wait for this one, in which the whole seven year saga of Frieda's curious relationship with the terrifying psychopath Dean Reeve comes to a close. So I was delighted when it came out, and have just finished listening to it on Audible. Sadly, though, it didn't quite make it for me. 

In case you're not familiar with this series, Frieda is a psychotherapist. Seven years ago events drew her into an acquaintance with Reeve, who has become obsessed with her. Numerous crimes and murders have resulted from this. Frieda and Reeve have not met for seven years, but he has been sending her covert messages - the last one was a corpse buried under the floorboards of her home.

In this latest novel, Frieda has disappeared. Indeed she's not even mentioned in the early chapters. The novel begins with a young woman taking her children for a walk in a busy Hampstead street. As they linger outside a shop, a car comes racing down the road, narrowly misses them, and smashes into the shop window. Police investigation reveals that the supposed driver is in fact a corpse, who has been dead for some days. It becomes clear eventually that this, and several more bizarre scenarios, are the work of Reeve. Next, we meet a young girl called Lola, who wants to write her undergraduate dissertation on Frieda Klein. Frieda's friends and family have no idea where she is. Eventually Lola runs into her by chance beside the grave of Frieda's ex-lover, and discovers that she is in hiding because she knows Reeve is planning to kill her. By an even bigger chance, Lola has actually encountered Reeve, who was one of a pair of fishermen she met on the bank of the canal and whose photos she took on her phone. Frieda believes that Lola is in danger and persuades her to go with her into hiding. Soon the two women are shuttling from place to place, always in secret. But Reeve seems to be on their track in spite of all Frieda's skill in evading him.

There are certainly some exciting twists and nail-biting moments in this novel, so why wasn't I as bowled over as I'd hoped to be? Two things - first I felt some of the coincidences stretched my credulity a bit, though in itself that's something I can generally overlook. The main problem I had was with Frieda herself. I'd had my doubts about her in the early novels, but as I said in last year's review, I'd managed to warm to her. I'm afraid that hasn't lasted. So what's wrong with Frieda? I've started finding her terribly cold and humourless. Yes I know, you could hardly expect her to be a barrel of laughs when she's in hiding from a mass murderer, but a smile from time to time would have been helpful for poor little Lola, who she treats with unremitting coolness. And then there's her psychotherapist-speak, which has never been more in evidence and which irritated the hell out of me. I've always been really sorry to end the novels in this series and been left longing for the next one, but now I'm thinking enough is enough and I'm glad the Freida/Reeve saga has come to an end. Will poor little Lola recover from the traumas she been through? Will Frieda and her policeman friend Carlson end up together? We will never know. 

Sorry to sound so churlish. Anyone else read this?