Le Voleur De Maigret

Inspector Maigret #66

by Georges Simenon

Un matin, sur la plate-forme d'un autobus, on vole le portefeuille de Maigret. Le matin suivant, son portefeuille lui est restitué par la poste et il reçoit un appel téléphonique du voleur lui demandant un rendez-vous. Maigret s'y rend et apprend de son voleur, François Ricain, que sa femme, Sophie, a été assassinée.

Genres: Mystery, Crime, Fiction, France, Detective, Noir, Mystery Thriller

192 pages, Pocket Book

First published January 1, 1967

About the author

Georges Joseph Christian Simenon (1903 – 1989) was a Belgian writer. A prolific author who published nearly 500 novels and numerous short works, Simenon is best known as the creator of the fictional detective Jules Maigret.
Although he never resided in Belgium after 1922, he remained a Belgian citizen throughout his life.

Simenon was one of the most prolific writers of the twentieth century, capable of writing 60 to 80 pages per day. His oeuvre includes nearly 200 novels, over 150 novellas, several autobiographical works, numerous articles, and scores of pulp novels written under more than two dozen pseudonyms. Altogether, about 550 million copies of his works have been printed.

He is best known, however, for his 75 novels and 28 short stories featuring Commissaire Maigret. The first novel in the series, Pietr-le-Letton, appeared in 1931; the last one, Maigret et M. Charles, was published in 1972. The Maigret novels were translated into all major languages and several of them were turned into films and radio plays. Two television series (1960-63 and 1992-93) have been made in Great Britain.

During his "American" period, Simenon reached the height of his creative powers, and several novels of those years were inspired by the context in which they were written (Trois chambres à Manhattan (1946), Maigret à New York (1947), Maigret se fâche (1947)).

Simenon also wrote a large number of "psychological novels", such as La neige était sale (1948) or Le fils (1957), as well as several autobiographical works, in particular Je me souviens (1945), Pedigree (1948), Mémoires intimes (1981).

In 1966, Simenon was given the MWA's highest honor, the Grand Master Award.

In 2005 he was nominated for the title of De Grootste Belg (The Greatest Belgian). In the Flemish version he ended 77th place. In the Walloon version he ended 10th place.

Reviews

[Andrei Bădică · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Fostul acrobat avea ochii de-un albastru foarte deschis, care te făcea să te gândești la ochii unui copil. În ciuda vârstei și a experienței pe care bănuiai că o are, păstrase o veselie și un farmec copilăresc."
"Soarele era luminos și călduț. Era minunat să deschizi fereastra de când te scoli și să auzi ciripind vrăbiile."

[Manny · Rating 4 out of 5]

Last week, World Chess Champion Magnus Carlsen defended his title for the second time, against challenger Sergey Karjakin. Carlsen seemed listless and out of form. He played cautious, uninspired chess, and was three times unable to score from excellent positions. But he won anyway; the score was even at the end of the normal games, but he found some good moves in the third tiebreaker and that was enough. It was an impressive performance. Anyone can win when they're playing well; only the truly great can win when they're playing badly.

And so to Le voleur de Maigret. Simenon wrote it at the age of 64, about five years before he retired. It was his sixty-sixth Maigret, and something between his four hundredth and five hundredth novel (no one seems quite sure how many books he wrote). It's hastily constructed, and by all rights it should be dreadful. But it isn't. Carlsen's great strength is his feeling for position; his fingers just know where the pieces need to go. Simenon, in the same way, can write a perfectly good novel on autopilot. The plot is one I've seen before, the characters are all more or less out of central casting, the writing is unexceptional, but it doesn't matter. I was hooked by page 20 and couldn't put the book down until I'd seen how it worked out. I enjoyed it a great deal. There's just enough novelty, both in the story and in the language, that I never once felt cheated. It's truly extraordinary. I wish I could understand how he did it.

As Garry Kasparov said about the one of the games in the recently concluded match: when the amateurs are complaining that it's boring, that's often a sign that something interesting is going on.

[Adrian · Rating 5 out of 5]

An enjoyable January 2023 Lunchtime listen

This story starts with Maigret getting the bus to work. Squashed in and being continuously knocked by an old lady with a bag a veg who keeps apologising to him. The next thing he knows, he suddenly realises his wallet has been picked. He looks behind and sees the pickpocket jump off the bus. The loss of money is not a real problem as he didn't have much in the wallet, but his badge was stolen, and that is a punishable offence. Looking through the files of criminals doesn't help him, and he's at a loss until his wallet is returned in the post complete with all the money and badge, and then he gets a call from the pick pocket asking to meet.
Intrigued he does so, and that is the start of a complicated and twisted murder investigation.

Excellent story and brilliantly read as ever by the wonderful Gareth Armstrong.

[Jayaprakash Satyamurthy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Another reviewer on this site described this book as comfort food, and noted the civilized way in which Maigret goes about solving his mystery. That makes it seem as if this is something on the lines of an Agatha Christie novel, which strikes me as a very misleading notion. However, it also illuminates a difference between Simenon's Franco-Belgian noir and the American version: there's far less violence in Simenon's Maigret novels. Maigret doesn't go around getting into brawls, ambushes and gunfights the way Marlow or the Continental Op do. You could almost describe the set-up as a police procedural; except that Maigret's procedure is anything but. He generally approaches a case obliquely, famously drawing no conclusions and forming no theories, almost sleepwalking through routine interrogations and noting each new piece of data from the experts with an almost distracted air. He takes time out for snacks, glasses of beer or wine, little domestic interludes with his wife. His deductions only come in at the very end, once he has completely immersed himself in the mystery to the point of outward stasis. He is informed by a deep, not un-compassionate sense of human frailty and a professional policeman's knowledge of all the twisted, brutal and pathetic forms that frailty can take; it's a sensitive clinician's approach, a description which can be applied to Simenon's own in these novels as well as his non-Maigret works. In the process we are brought face-to-face with some of the darkest currents of human nature, with acts of betrayal and desperation that are more shocking for being uncovered in such a seemingly matter-of-fact way. It isn't a superior approach to that of the Chandler/Hammett one, but an equally effective one, and one that has more in common with their work than that of those whom I'd generally describe as writers of cozy mysteries.

This novel is no exception; it is superbly constructed, with Maigret's wallet being pick-pocketed on a bus - only to be returned intact with a note requesting him to meet the pickpocket. The fellow turns out to be a young aspiring scriptwriter who lives alone with his wife in a flat. His wife has been dead for a few days, shot in the head. The man insists he is innocent and turns to Maigret for help. What follows is a descent into a specific microcosm - the world of somewhat shifty financiers, wannabe stars and creative hacks of various kinds who exist at the peripheries of the film world, looking out for their big break. Outwardly, Maigret is having a pleasant time of it, sitting and eavesdropping on his suspects in a cozy restaurant with superb food, sharing fine beer with one suspect and so on.

But I am convinced that any reader with a little discernment will notice the darker currents running beneath this call surfaces, the little side-lights into the various characters' own individual hells, the tiny acts of betrayal and desperation, calculation and surmise that make up their daily lives, and finally the revelation of the crime itself, domestic certainly, but not cozy by any means. Even more significant than Maigret's identification of the culprit is his insight in the last page - asked if the culprit should face the courts or be treated as a psychiatric case, Maigret suggests the courts - not because he is convinced of the murderer's mental soundness so much as because he knows that that is where the person in question will be able to play out the sort of role they would be most comfortable with. That's a subtle point, one that neither justifies nor commends but merely displays the stark insight that sets the Maigret novels apart.

[Gabril · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Una storia strana... Con gente strana... Sono finito nel mondo del cinema... E come al cinema, tutto è cominciato con una scena comica, il furto del mio portafoglio..."

Così racconta Maigret alla sua signora, al risveglio dopo una lunga giornata molto faticosa trascorsa al Vieux-Pressoir, un locale dall’«atmosfera un po’ ovattata e un po’ sciropposa» dove si ritrovano artisti spiantati, aspiranti star del cinema e accaparratori di particine, sedicenti sceneggiatori, esuberanti fotografi, ma anche un ricco produttore cinematografico che approfitta alla grande della situazione, illudendo le giovani ambiziose fanciulle che sognano le luci del palcoscenico.

È questo l’ambiente in cui si muove Francis Ricain, un giovane più spiantato degli altri, continuamente a caccia di soldi dagli amici, ma con una fiducia spudorata nella propria capacità di diventare, un bel giorno, una vera celebrità nel mondo della letteratura e del cinema.

È proprio questo ragazzo a sottrarre il portafoglio a Maigret sulla piattaforma di un autobus, tranne poi, una volta scoperta l’identità del derubato, restituirgli tutto tramite la posta chiedendogli pure un incontro. Questo perché la sua giovane moglie, Sophie, è stata uccisa a sangue freddo il giorno prima nel loro piccolo appartamento e da allora Francis vaga come un pazzo per le strade senza darsi pace.

Con la consueta paziente sollecitudine Maigret comincerà a conoscere tutti i personaggi che si muovono intorno a Francis e Sophie, e insieme a lui anche noi saremo seduti in uno di quei tavolini al Vieux-Pressoir a osservare questo insolito spaccato di umanità, a identificare loro vizi, tic e debolezze.

E quando finalmente ci sembrerà di capire come si sono svolti i giochi l’abile Simenon, con un colpo di mano, rovescerà i risultati davanti ai nostri occhi attoniti.

È il sessantesimo romanzo con protagonista il celebre commissario; sono a buon punto con la lettura dei 75 complessivi ma qui mi fermo e prendo fiato.
Alla prossima maratona, caro amico Maigret.

[paper0r0ss0 · Rating 5 out of 5]

Uno dei migliori capitoli della saga di Maigret. Intenso e coinvolgente, tutto incentrato sull'analisi dei personaggi, sul profilo psicologico del variegato gruppo dei sospettati dell'omicidio di una giovane donna. A partire dal marito della vittima, giovane inconcludente e talentuoso aspirante regista cinematografico, per finire alla sua combriccola di presunti artisti piu' o meno falliti. Non c'e' vera azione. Non inseguimenti o indagini serrate. Maigret procede nell'inchiesta quasi con la tranquillita' del sonnambulo che sa in cuor suo dove arrivare. Da segnalare un curioso utilizzo delle parolacce, non comune nei romanzi maigrettiani, forse a voler rimarcare l'ambito giovanile e "alternativo" dell'inchiesta.

[Barbarroja · Rating 3 out of 5]

El ladrón de Maigret se encuadra dentro de las últimas novelas que Simenon escribió con el mítico comisario de la P. J. parisina como protagonista. Más concretamente, después de esta, sólo aparecerían nueve novelas más de las 75 que componen (junto con otro puñado de relatos cortos) la magna serie de Maigret.
Publicada en 1967 (y escrita en sólo ¡seis días! en noviembre del año anterior), la acción comienza cuando al comisario Maigret le roban la cartera durante un trayecto en autobús. Poco después, el ladrón se la devuelve intacta, pero también le suplica poder reunirse con él. Parece encontrarse en un serio aprieto…
No contaré más detalles de la trama, pero para quien ha leído más de una novela policíaca (y, más concretamente, de Simenon) no le será difícil hacerse una idea de los patrones que siguen a continuación. La ejecución y la finalización son, como siempre, muy satisfactorias. Es, podría decirse, una novela escrita a partir de un molde prefabricado, pero un molde estupendo.
¿Qué quiero decir con esto? Que El ladrón de Maigret es una apuesta segura en cuanto a entretenimiento (del bueno) se refiere. Quizá no aporte nada nuevo al ya ingente universo creado por Simenon, pero contiene todos los ingredientes clásicos que hacen de las novelas de Maigret una auténtica delicia para los amantes del género policíaco, y para cualquier lector, en general.

[Elizabeth (Alaska) · Rating 4 out of 5]

As can be seen from the title, Maigret is the victim of a pickpocket. Surprisingly, the wallet, in which he carried his badge, was returned with nothing missing, not even the small sum of money. Then the pickpocket phoned Maigret and wanted to meet with him. Maigret is led to the scene of a 2-day old murder. Did this pickpocket murder his wife or was it one of their many friends?

I do so love reading this series. Inspector Maigret doesn't make quick decisions. The more I read of him, the more thoroughly I know him. And he is thoughtful - he calls his wife to let her know if/when he will not be home for lunch/dinner. But he's always home for sleeping. In this, as he leaves one morning, having gotten a good breakfast: ‘It helps me not to think any more about it.’ And, as he picked up his hat, he remarked philosophically: ‘You don’t always think about what you want to.’ (My mind doesn't always go where I intend either!) Simenon writes of Maigret:

My motto, to the extent that I have one, has been noted often enough, and I’ve always conformed to it. It’s the one I’ve given to old Maigret, who resembles me in certain points … ‘understand and judge not’.

I see I have given several in the series 4-stars. I might be exaggerating, but I think this is one of that group.

[Three · Rating 3 out of 5]

perfetta come sempre la costruzione delle atmosfere
la storia gialla traballa un po'.....

[Sandra · Rating 4 out of 5]

Caro Simenon, di nuovo mi hai depistato alla grande. Mi hai introdotto nel piccolo mondo dei frequentatori del ristorante Vieux-Pressoir, una grande tavolata di gente frequentatrice del mondo del cinema, che si arrangia tra comparse, provini sfortunati e sceneggiature spesso scartate, tra Francis Ricain, aspirante sceneggiatore, aspirante regista, aspirante a un futuro grandioso ma costretto alla fame e all’elemosina per un pasto caldo, tra il produttore Carus, una specie di Silvio Berlusconi all’epoca di Telemilano, circondato da avvenenti fanciulle pronte a tutto per una particina e con l’atteggiamento da mecenate generoso che firma assegni ai suoi protetti perché i giovani talenti vanno aiutati, tra la sua compagna Nora, anche lei aspirante a farsi sposare da Carus per sistemare il futuro incerto ma anche ben organizzata per assicurarselo da sé il futuro, tra altri personaggi minori, artisti, fotografi, tutti pronti a brindare e a festeggiare se c’è chi paga…; insomma, sono entrata in questo microcosmo così eterogeneo con Maigret e mi sono persa con lui a conoscere la gente, a osservare e studiare, seduta in un tavolo d’angolo con una birra in mano, finchè eravamo arrivati a farci una mezza idea su chi di loro avesse ucciso la moglie di Ricain, una giovane donna che in quell’ambiente ci si era trovata suo malgrado, e ci stava in silenzio, tanto da rivelarsi da subito un mistero da interpretare, e invece .... tutto da rifare; insomma, alla fine, caro Simenon, mi hai depistato ancora una volta, ed io, come Maigret, sorrido tristemente al pensiero della “commedia umana” che viviamo e che tu hai così ben chiaramente illustrato.

[Alessia Scurati · Rating 4 out of 5]

Come non si fa ad amare Maigret, il commissario più commissario della letteratura, che appena prende l’autobus per andare al lavoro, viene scippato? Alleggerito del portafoglio, da parte di un giovane.
Ma Maigret mica lo insegue, perché quel dì si era messo le scarpe nuove.
Allora peccato per il distintivo, numero 0004, bello consumato, ma ne arriverà uno nuovo, in fondo. Peccato per i documenti, i soldi erano pochi.
Ma ecco che con somma sorpresa di Maigret, il portafoglio viene restituito, inviato in una busta marrone. Non solo: il ladro si fa vivo, chiama, invoca l’aiuto di Maigret.
Poi non vi racconto altro, che il racconto è breve e siamo già a un buon quarto della trama.

Io non so come facesse Simenon, ma ogni volta che entri nei suoi gialli, li puoi respirare, in questa Parigi fatta di gente che sogna lustrini ma non arriva alla fine del mese, un mondo di intellettuali fake (va bene, fake è un temine da imbruttita ma passatemelo) e di apparenze malcelate, che alla fine il nostro commissario sviscera con la solita impassibile capacità di ascoltare e ragionare e capire gli esseri umani (meglio se a stomaco pieno).
Scorbutico finché si vuole, ma sempre charmant questo Maigret.
O almeno, su di me, in quanto lettrice, ha sempre fatto presa.

[Richard · Rating 3 out of 5]

Spring has come to Paris; warm enough to find an old fashioned bus with an open platform, where Maigret can find space to smoke his pipe. Unfortunately this morning others have congreagated there. In the crush a young man lifts Maigret's wallet containing his police badge, the inspector sees the thief jump from the moving bus and disappear into the surrounding streets.
So begins the 66th instalment of this famous detective stll not ready to retire, willing to support the underdog and the social misfits.

Chapter 5 makes mention of the whole Maigret mystery and literary phenomenon.
'During the first phase of a case , that is when he was suddenly faced with a new milieu and people whom he knew nothing, it was as if he was breathing in the life around him, absorbing it like a sponge.'
"What's your impression of him? Guilty?"
'Another question the magistrate would not have asked if he had worked for longer with Maigret'
"I don't have any impression yet."
'This was true. He always waited as long as possible before forming an opinion. And even then he did not really form the opinion. He kept an open mind until the moment when something became evident to him. or untilthe interviewee cracked.'

This in essence makes for interesting people based cases that carried this series to so many books. The nostalga of a former time and the backdrop, often of Paris, adds to enjoyment of the novels.

The pickpocket is an usual character who catches Maigret at a less focused time. He continues to appears to hold sway over Maigret who feels responsible and disposed to help him, but an attitude that is not a quick rush to judgement should not be confused with a mind that is not alert, taking in all he sees and hears.
Another classic Maigret, which shows the best of this series and the consummate quality of Simenon.

[Jim · Rating 4 out of 5]

Georges Simenon's Maigret and the Pickpocket is one of his later works and a bit of a departure from the typical Maigret. The Detective Superintendent has his wallet stolen on a bus -- and, surprisingly, it is returned to him with nothing missing the next day. Shortly after picking it up in the mail, he gets a call from the pickpocket, who urgently requests a meeting. Maigret sees him and is escorted to the robber's studio, where there is the dead body, shot through the head, of the pickpocket's wife.

The husband, Francois, claims not to have shot her. The crime was committed with his own gun, so he chucks it in the Seine. Maigret thereupon works his way through the people who know Francois and his wife, most of whom are tenuously attached to the film-making business.

So what does Maigret do? He doesn't arrest Francois, but he "baby-sits" him until it is clear who committed the crime.

This is not one of Simenon's best Maigrets, but it is still interesting.

[George · Rating 3 out of 5]

An engaging crime fiction novel about Maigret having his wallet stolen and the murder of the 22 year old woman. Maigret discovers who pickpocketed his wallet which leads to him meeting Francois, a young, broke journalist, who happens to have been married to the murder victim for over three years.

Maigret fans should find this book a satisfying reading experience. Readers new to the Maigret series should begin with ‘The Yellow Dog’, ‘Cecile is Dead’, or ‘Maigret and the Reluctant Witnesses’.

This book was first published in 1967.

[4cats · Rating 4 out of 5]

In a nutshell, Maigret has his pocket picked which leads to a criminal investigation with surprising results. I love the Maigret novels, they are crime novels but so much more with Maigret at their heart. Full of human frailty, emotion, subtlety and so easy to read. An absolute must for all lovers of great crime/fiction.

[Claudiu · Rating 3 out of 5]

un fel de Pericol la End House al Agathei Christie.
nu a fost cel mai bun roman cu Maigret pe care l-am citit - l-as trece undeva pe lista romanelor mediocre.

[Rhys · Rating 4 out of 5]

One of the later 'Maigret' novels but still a solid and very entertaining read. The thing about the 'Maigret' series is that individually there are very few books in it that one can point to and say, "This is total genius!" but as a whole the series builds up into something astonishing, a sum greater than its parts. The phenomenon is one of accretion. Taken as a whole the series is masterful. Having said this, I still have many volumes left to read....

[Kb · Rating 5 out of 5]

I think this is the closest to an edge-of-seat whodunnit that Simenon has written in the Maigret series. I was invested in this story and interested in its outcome from the beginning.

Maigret takes an open-platform bus to work so he can smoke his pipe on the journey. On arrival at Quai-des-Orfèvres, Maigret discovers his wallet has been lifted. It is his missing badge that worries him most, as his work will dock him a month’s pay to replace it.

Then he receives a package with his wallet and all its contents (including money) intact, with a request from the pickpocket to meet him. It turns out the young man’s wife has been murdered, and he is desperate not to be arrested for the crime. Maigret is intrigued, and immediately sets out to investigate in his usual manner.

I’m not really sure if I was surprised by the ending, but it was certainly fascinating getting there. Whodunnit, indeed.

Recommended

[Sydney · Rating 5 out of 5]

I should really just create a shelf for "my favorite detectives." It seems unfair to just add any Maigret novel to my large pile of detective fiction. (When I am done with this move, I'll begin reading other novels and works of nonfiction.) To the point: this is one of the best of the Maigret novels. I love Maigret for his ability to empathize with the victims, criminals, and various people affected by crime. I felt that this was one of the novels with the largest heart. Simenon wrote so much that the novels are uneven in plotting and execution. This is one I highly recommend.

[David K. Glidden · Rating 5 out of 5]

Georges Simenon was indeed a prolific writer, but with many prodigies. He was best known for his dozens of Maigret policiers, all ostensibly composed to be read in a day. He was also known for his longer and forlorn roman durs, empathic novels of human suffering by those on the margin of living. This particular “Pickpocket” murder mystery crossed over from his Maigret genre into elements of his roman dur world of bleakness and despair. In this way it reveals the broken heart of its author.

[Maddy · Rating 4 out of 5]

PROTAGONIST: Chief Inspector Jules Maigret
SETTING: Paris
RATING: 3.5
WHY: While riding on a bus, Chief Inspector Maigret becomes the victim of a pickpocket. Surprisingly, the perp mails what he has stolen back to Maigret and then seeks his help after finding his wife murdered. Maigret is a dogged detective with a strong intuitive sense that guides him. Nice and twisty.

[Bahman Bahman · Rating 2 out of 5]

کمیسر ژول مگره قهرمان تعداد زیادی از داستان‌های کاراگاهی ژرژ سیمنون است. او فرزند خانواده‌ای کشاورز است که در جوانی به پاریس می‌آید تا پزشکی بخواند اما در عوض به نیروی پلیس می‌پیوندد. وی مدارج ترقی را به سرعت طی می‌کند و به مقم سربازرسی می‌رسد. همسرش لوئیز زنی مهربان و آشپزی قابل است که در حل معمای بسیاری از پرونده‌ها به کمیسر کمک می‌کند. آن‌ها در آپارتمانی در بلوار ریشار لنوار زندگی می‌کنند و فرزندی ندارند. مگره در ادارهٔ مرکزی پلیس کار می‌کند و همکاران وفادار و ثابتی دارد که در حل و فصل پرونده‌ها به او کمک می‌کنند. شهرت بسزایی که ژرژ سیمنون در داستان‌های کاراگاهیش کسب کرد به واسطه خلق شخصیت مگره در ۷۵ رمان و ۲۸ داستان کوتاه بوده‌است. نخستین این رمان‌ها در ۱۹۳۱ و آخرین آن‌ها مگره و مسیو چارلز در ۱۹۷۲ به چاپ رسیدند.

[MaryCatherine · Rating 5 out of 5]

I remember seeing episodes of Maigret on Mystery many years ago. A number of excellent French black and white films were also made of this very popular French detective. I enjoyed them all, but I’ve never read any of the books until now. Since this was my first, I had the thrill of discovering the author’s absolutely elegant prose. He writes from inside the mind of Maigret, who absorbs every detail with all the senses, while mulling over problems and inconsistencies in the suspect’s story. Paris comes to life in cafes, boulevards, and neighborhood. It was a pleasure to keep company with this quintessentially French gentleman detective. There are around sixty books in the Maigret series. I haven’t read them before because they are about $10 each, and are short (typically less than 200 pages.) I was thrilled to pick this one up for 2 or 3 dollars on Bookbub. I hope the public library invests in a few of these. Simenon’s writing is really superb, and I look forward to spending more time in Maigret’s world.

[Aloke · Rating 4 out of 5]

The one with the movie producer’s gang and the delicious chaudrée (chowder!)

[John Frankham · Rating 5 out of 5]

I’m constantly disappointed at the lack of wide-spread esteem given to Simenon’s Maigret novels, and his books in general. This is another excellent one, and I make no apologies from copying below a GR review from 2011 of this book, touching more generally, and more skilfully than I could, the position of the Maigret novels in the detective fiction genre, and, actually, in the novel genre more widely.

The previous GR review:

‘Another reviewer on this site described this book as comfort food, and noted the civilized way in which Maigret goes about solving his mystery. That makes it seem as if this is something on the lines of an Agatha Christie novel, which strikes me as a very misleading notion. However, it also illuminates a difference between Simenon's Franco-Belgian noir and the American version: there's far less violence in Simenon's Maigret novels. Maigret doesn't go around getting into brawls, ambushes and gunfights the way Marlow or the Continental Op do. You could almost describe the set-up as a police procedural; except that Maigret's procedure is anything but. He generally approaches a case obliquely, famously drawing no conclusions and forming no theories, almost sleepwalking through routine interrogations and noting each new piece of data from the experts with an almost distracted air. He takes time out for snacks, glasses of beer or wine, little domestic interludes with his wife. His deductions only come in at the very end, once he has completely immersed himself in the mystery to the point of outward stasis. He is informed by a deep, not un-compassionate sense of human frailty and a professional policeman's knowledge of all the twisted, brutal and pathetic forms that frailty can take; it's a sensitive clinician's approach, a description which can be applied to Simenon's own in these novels as well as his non-Maigret works. In the process we are brought face-to-face with some of the darkest currents of human nature, with acts of betrayal and desperation that are more shocking for being uncovered in such a seemingly matter-of-fact way. It isn't a superior approach to that of the Chandler/Hammett one, but an equally effective one, and one that has more in common with their work than that of those whom I'd generally describe as writers of cosy mysteries.

This novel is no exception; it is superbly constructed, with Maigret's wallet being pick-pocketed on a bus - only to be returned intact with a note requesting him to meet the pickpocket. The fellow turns out to be a young aspiring scriptwriter who lives alone with his wife in a flat. His wife has been dead for a few days, shot in the head. The man insists he is innocent and turns to Maigret for help. What follows is a descent into a specific microcosm - the world of somewhat shifty financiers, wannabe stars and creative hacks of various kinds who exist at the peripheries of the film world, looking out for their big break. Outwardly, Maigret is having a pleasant time of it, sitting and eavesdropping on his suspects in a cozy restaurant with superb food, sharing fine beer with one suspect and so on.

But I am convinced that any reader with a little discernment will notice the darker currents running beneath this call surfaces, the little side-lights into the various characters' own individual hells, the tiny acts of betrayal and desperation, calculation and surmise that make up their daily lives, and finally the revelation of the crime itself, domestic certainly, but not cozy by any means. Even more significant than Maigret's identification of the culprit is his insight in the last page - asked if the culprit should face the courts or be treated as a psychiatric case, Maigret suggests the courts - not because he is convinced of the murderer's mental soundness so much as because he knows that that is where the person in question will be able to play out the sort of role they would be most comfortable with. That's a subtle point, one that neither justifies nor commends but merely displays the stark insight that sets the Maigret novels apart.’

[Larry Carr · Rating 5 out of 5]

Maigret’s Pickpocket by George’s Simenon, bk66 in the Inspector Maigret series -now read. I started reading Simenon just two years ago, late to the party-I thank thee Scott Bradfield 🛁! Having now read the last 7 in the series, and 3 earlier Maigret [ also 2 Simenon roman durs novels] I must move forwards. Having taken a couple months hiatus, binging on the Parker series and other stuff, this one really took hold…currently a favorite, alongside Maigret’s Wine Merchant.

I am always quite struck by, in addition to his considerable talent at plotting and setting the scene, time, place and events - Simenon shares with the reader seemingly mundane parts of French life in a transformative and revealing manner - it’s personal. Also I particularly like these ones, where he digs deep into the psycho pathology of an obsessive type of personality. Maigret’s Pickpocket is that… [And a note from Simenon - “My motto, to the extent that I have one, has been noted often enough, and I’ve always conformed to it. It’s the one I’ve given to old Maigret, who resembles me in certain points … ‘understand and judge not’.]

Spring time. “The same buses with platforms had been in circulation when he had first arrived in Paris, almost forty years earlier, and in those days he had never tired of taking one along the large shop-lined boulevards on the Madeleine–Bastille line. That had been one of his first discoveries.” -
“He had never tired of the terraces either, where you could sit in front of a glass of beer and watch the ever-changing sights of the street. … this was another year when spring was early, and that morning he had left home without his overcoat. He felt as light as the sparkling air. The colours of the shops, the food stalls, the women’s dresses, were all bright and cheerful. He was not thinking of anything in particular.”

Event on the Tram. “Stepping back, he bumped unavoidably into someone behind him. ‘Sorry.’ He too murmured an apology, tried to crane round, and glimpsed the face of a young man, a face marked by an emotion that was hard to read. — the same young man jumped from the bus as it was still moving.” … “no precise reason, Maigret clapped his hand to his hip pocket where he usually kept his wallet. He almost jumped off the bus in turn, because the wallet had gone.”

Quai des Orfèvres. “ ‘Everything all right, chief? Nothing to report?’ ‘No. Or rather yes. I’ve just been robbed.’ ‘Your watch?’ ‘My wallet.’ ‘In the street?’ ‘On the platform of the bus.’ ‘Only about fifty francs. I don’t carry more than that as a rule.’ ‘Not just my papers, but my badge!’ — “ Maigret’s badge had the number 0004, since number 1 was for the prefect of police, number 2 for the director of the Police Judiciaire, and number 3, for some reason, that of the head of Special Branch.” And yet. “The light-heartedness of the morning was still influencing his mood was more vexed than really angry.” … “ He spent almost an hour examining the photographs -None of them looked anything like the young man on the bus, and Maigret knew in advance that his search would be in vain.” — “Maigret was thinking about it more and more, without wanting to. Instead of becoming vaguer in his mind’s eye, the thief’s face was getting clearer. In the whole incident, the face, the flight, there was something unnatural, but he couldn’t work out what it was.” Later in his office. “top of the pile lay a thick brown envelope on which his name, title and the address at Quai des Orfèvres were printed in large capital letters. He realized what it was before opening it. His wallet was being returned. — nothing was missing, not the badge, nor his papers, nor the fifty francs. There was nothing else. No message. No explanation. He felt thoroughly vexed at this.”

The pickpocket calls. “ ‘So why are you telephoning?’ ‘Because I need to see you.’ ‘It’s personal.’ ‘What’s personal?’ — “There was something unreal about this conversation and yet Maigret was taking it seriously. ‘Where are you?’ ‘Will you come here?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Our conversation has to remain private. Will you promise that?’ ‘It depends.’ ‘What on?’ ‘On what you’re going to say.’ ‘Yes, I’m prepared to meet you.’ ‘And you accept my conditions?’ ‘I’ll be alone.’ ‘But you won’t make any promises?’ ‘No.’ “It’s what the newspapers say about you that makes me inclined to trust you. ‘That you understand certain things that the police and the law courts don’t usually understand, and that in some cases, you’ve even …’ ‘I’ve even what?’ - ‘Have you sometimes closed your eyes to something?’ Maigret preferred not to answer this. ‘Where are you?’

The Meeting. “ -finally. ‘What did you think?’ ‘That you’d guess, you’d be more or less right, and once I was hooked …’ ‘Go on.’ He suddenly became angry and raised his voice, forgetting he was in a public place.” ‘And once I was hooked, I’d be done for, wouldn’t I!’ ‘ Listen, inspector …’ He was paler and more nervous than ever. ‘Have you ever trusted somebody, even when all the evidence was against him?’ ‘It has happened.’ ‘What do you think of me?’ ‘That you’re rather complicated, and that I don’t have enough elements to make a judgement.’

Ricain’s Apartment. “Alongside a sofa-bed, a young woman was lying on the multicoloured Moroccan carpet: over her body buzzed a cloud of bluebottle flies” … ‘She’s your wife, isn’t she?’ His eyes said yes. And you were there when it happened?’ ‘No.’ ‘When did you last see her?’ ‘Day before yesterday … Wednesday …’ ‘Morning? Evening?’ ‘Late that night.’ ‘And do you know how she died?’ The young man nodded, without speaking, since he was once more unable to breathe. ‘When I came back …’ ‘ About what time?’ ‘Eleven.’ ‘No, I was going out to look for some money. We were desperate.’ ‘What’s your name?’ ‘Ricain, François Ricain. Some people call me Francis.’

Hideaway Plan. “In Belgium or somewhere, I could have waited a bit. Read the newspapers about the investigation. I’d have learned details I didn’t know, so it would have made it easier to defend myself.’ Maigret could not help smiling at such a mixture of cunning and naivety.” — ‘But look, I can’t face going back there, seeing, smelling …’ ‘Well, I have to.’ ‘It’s your job. And she wasn’t your wife.’ He veered from incoherent muttering to perfectly good common sense, from blind panic to lucid reasoning. ‘You’re a strange young man.’ ‘Because I’m sincere?’ … “Maigret able to register the strange décor of the little apartment. The floor had been varnished black, the walls and ceiling painted bright scarlet. The furniture by contrast was chalky white, which made the whole interior rather unreal. It was almost like a stage set. Nothing seemed solid.” — “François Ricain, who changed his mood every few seconds. Maigret would have found it difficult to formulate an opinion of him. Intelligent, yes, certainly, and highly so, as far as one could tell from what lay beneath some of his utterances. Yet alongside that, there was a naive, rather childish side to him.”

The murder investigation ensues… my further highlights are visible on Goodreads. But I suggest it’s better to read the book.

[José Van Rosmalen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Commissaris Maigret staat in een stadsbus in Parijs. Het is druk en hij staat bekneld tussen mensen. Als hij uitstapt merkt hij dat zijn portefeuille is verdwenen. De dief stuurt de portefeuille naar het bureau van Maigret zonder dat er iets uit is verdwenen. Deed de dader dat uit spijt of was er een andere reden? Maigret krijgt contact met de man en er blijkt iets gruwelijks te zijn gebeurd: de vrouw van de man is vermoord. Heeft de man dat op zijn geweten of is er iets anders aan de hand. Maigret duikt in de zaak en doet op zijn onnavolgbare manier onderzoek. In de omgeving van de man, in restaurants en cafe’s. Als je het aantal alcoholische consumpties dat Maigret tot zich neemt bij elkaar optelt, zou hij in een toestand van permanente dronkenschap moeten verkeren, maar hij blijft in zijn handelen onverstoorbaar. Het boek heeft zijn charme omdat er veel Parijse couleur locale in voorkomt. Simenon weet de persoon van de zakkenroller en zijn vrouw en het milieu waarin zij verkeren, geloofwaardig neer te zetten. De uiteindelijke plot zie je als lezer niet direct aankomen, tot aan de laatste bladzijden worden verschillende scenario’s boven tafel gehouden. Maigret is een karakter dat in de boeken van Simenon steeds ongeveer hetzelfde blijft, een zestiger met lange ervaring. Dit is heel anders bij Zweedse inspecteurs zoals Kurt Wallander en Martin Beck, die meegaan met hun tijd en ook zichtbaar ouder worden. Maigret gaat ook heel anders te werk dan zijn Zweedse ‘collega’s’. Daar zie je als lezer stap voor stap de resultaten van hun vorderingen. Bij Maigret zie je meer een broedende kip die informatie opzuigt en uiteindelijk het patroon doorheeft. Bovendien schrijft Simenon niet gewelddadig. De kracht zit in de psychologische sfeertekening.

[NoID · Rating 3 out of 5]

Les Maigret sont de véritables capsules temporelles. Ils nous racontent Paris et la France des années 30 à 60 (à peu de choses près, mais sans la guerre). Une époque où les hommes portaient un chapeau, fumaient la pipe et des cigarettes partout où c’était possible (et c’était possible partout !). Ces années qui verraient arriver les yéyés et sonnerait la fin des maisons closes.

Les concierges étaient omniprésentes (oui, souvent des femmes) et seraient bientôt remplacées par des digicodes et des cameras de surveillance. Une époque où le petit vin blanc démarrait la journée et où les hommes pichtronnaient du matin jusqu’au soir (le commissaire le premier !).

Ici, c’est une histoire un peu alambiquée (pas forcément le meilleur opus) dans laquelle le commissaire commence par se faire voler son portefeuille avec sa médaille !

S’en suit une plongée dans le monde des petites mains du cinéma, auteurs en devenir, petit producteurs et starlettes prêtes à tout pour un petit rôle. Tiens, rien n’aurait changé ou oserait-on croire que #metoo viendra casser tout ça ?

https://www.noid.ch/le-voleur-de-maig...

[Gaetano Laureanti · Rating 4 out of 5]

Inizia con il furto con destrezza del portafoglio di un Maigret pieno di buonumore per la tiepida primavera parigina, ma il resto del romanzo è una intricata indagine per un omicidio, quello della bella Sophie, giovane sposa dello squattrinato Francis.

Attori di dubbia fama, fotografi, sceneggiatori e produttori cinematografici, finti amici che condividono una vita difficile, spesso inseguendo guadagni futuri che non arrivano mai, costituiscono il sottobosco umano in cui indaga il nostro eroe:

E l’atmosfera ovattata , densa del Vieux Pressoir, l’allegria di Rose che si asciugava le mani nel grembiule, il volto di cera dell’ex controfigura, il suo sorriso ironico… Carus, espansivo, che si sforzava di essere cordiale con tutti e Nora, artificiosa dalla punta delle dita ai capelli tinti…

Dialoghi più che interrogatori, riflessioni più che perquisizioni, intuizioni più che arresti, portano Maigret ad una soluzione che squarcia il velo della menzogna e dell’ipocrisia.

In copertina dell’edizione Adelphi uno degli scatti parigini di HCB (Henri Cartier-Bresson).

[Sara · Rating 3 out of 5]

Again, a look into the constantly changing circles of filmmakers, writers, producers and their hangers-on. The main character is not particularly appealing but one cannot forget the aging stuntman and his wife, the former cabaret singer, who now run a restaurant with marvelous seafood from La Rochelle. This book contains some of his best observations of daily life, the smells and sounds and sights of ordinary Paris.
For example,
"Even the smell of gasoline was not disagreeable that evening. It, too, was part of the spring in the air, in the same way as the smell of melting tar is part and parcel of summer."