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That Dark Spring: A True Story of Death and Desire in 1920s Provence
'I couldn't stop reading it. Susannah Stapleton writes with beautiful clarity and has produced a classic of true crime' - Lissa Evans, author of Small Bomb at Dimperley
A gripping, explosive murder mystery by acclaimed true crime writer Susannah Stapleton.
In April 1929, the body of British artist Olive Branson was found submerged in a water tank outside her farmhouse in a picturesque Provence village. Dressed only in a pink shirt and stockings, she had a bullet hole between her eyes and a revolver by her side.
Was it suicide – or murder?
The initial investigation concluded suicide, but under pressure from Olive’s family to conduct a murder enquiry, city detective Alexandre Guibbal was brought in to reopen the case.
Examining never-before-seen evidence, acclaimed true crime writer Susannah Stapleton builds a vivid and absorbing picture of an unconventional life and a violent death, and an investigation that shines a bright light on a village simmering with resentments and dangerous rivalries . . .
A gripping, explosive murder mystery by acclaimed true crime writer Susannah Stapleton.
In April 1929, the body of British artist Olive Branson was found submerged in a water tank outside her farmhouse in a picturesque Provence village. Dressed only in a pink shirt and stockings, she had a bullet hole between her eyes and a revolver by her side.
Was it suicide – or murder?
The initial investigation concluded suicide, but under pressure from Olive’s family to conduct a murder enquiry, city detective Alexandre Guibbal was brought in to reopen the case.
Examining never-before-seen evidence, acclaimed true crime writer Susannah Stapleton builds a vivid and absorbing picture of an unconventional life and a violent death, and an investigation that shines a bright light on a village simmering with resentments and dangerous rivalries . . .
400 pages, Hardcover
Published April 24, 2025
6 people are currently reading
169 people want to read
About the author
Susannah Stapleton
3 books11 followersSusannah Stapleton was born in Kent in 1973. As a freelance historical researcher and writer with over twenty years’ experience, she has worked for museums and galleries, community groups, politicians and private individuals. She currently works as a bookseller at an award-winning independent bookshop in Shropshire whilst pursuing her own passion for twentieth century women’s history.
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Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews
June 4, 2025
This is a true crime story concerning the death of an Englishwoman, Olive Branson, in her house in Les Baux in Provence in 1929. We are told from the beginning that the case remains unsolved. Stapleton follows the investigation step by step and looks at the evidence from the trial and from various media accounts at the time. Along the way we learn about Olive’s life as an artist and something of a bohemian, and Stapleton paints a picture of life in the isolated and rather unwelcoming community of Les Baux.
I’m afraid I found this quite disappointing overall. There are two real problems with it: firstly, that the crime is rather dull and sordid and, secondly, that there is no solution, so the reader is left to decide based on the information Stapleton provides, none of which is new and which was therefore all available to the investigators and jury at the time. Stapleton pads this simple unresolved story out with diversions to discuss the history of Provence, or the biography of local notables, or, unfortunately, salacious details of the sex lives of Olive and various other people involved. While these are all well enough written and seem well researched, they also veer between irrelevance and what felt like rather sleazy if mild voyeurism at points.
After a rather itinerant life, Olive had settled in Les Baux for the last few years of her life. Apparently she was a well regarded artist at the time and Les Baux was home to a tiny community of artists and writers. Olive, however, became unusually involved in the life of the village, a place that seems not to have been very welcoming to outsiders. The picture Stapleton paints of Olive is of a busybody, usually with good intentions, but using her moderate wealth to interfere unasked in the locals’ lives. Stapleton gives a list of all the people Olive had annoyed or offended, and it’s quite long. However most of these offences seem too trivial to have led anyone rational to murder.
The police soon zone in on François Pinet, a good-looking if surly young man to whom Olive had left the local hotel she had recently bought and with whom it transpired she had been having an affair of sorts. The hotel story – who owned it, why Olive acquired it, who ran it, why it was the subject of a local feud – is complicated, and I never felt that Stapleton clarified it well enough. François’ family had previously owned it, and it was run by several members of the family. I found even quite late on that I didn’t know how these people were related to each other without flicking back to check.
The other prevailing theory was that Olive killed herself. This seemed unlikely in the extreme to me, and I wondered why both the police at the time and Stapleton now were giving it serious consideration. The theory as I gleaned it from the book is that Olive, in a sudden fit of depression that came on while she was still chewing the last bite of her evening meal, stripped off her skirt and shoes, walked in her underwear and stockinged feet round the side of the house, climbed a steep rock, squeezed through a very narrow gap into a water cistern and then shot herself – with that last bite of meal still in her gullet. This all seems so laughably unlikely that I felt there must have been elements missing from the description that had made professional investigators willing to consider it.
And that brings me to my final criticism, which is that the French police and justice system are shown as incompetent buffoons. François is eventually brought to trial (although we, the readers, already know he was acquitted, removing any suspense from the proceedings). The court scenes especially feel like something out of a Laurel and Hardy movie. Maybe it really was like that, but it felt a little like English superciliousness towards those quaintly silly French people over the Channel.
I always feel it must be tough for an author when they research a case that sounds as if it should be interesting, only to find that it isn’t really. Does one ditch the research and all that time investment, look for a new crime and start again? Or does one bash on, trying to add stuff around the periphery of the story to make it seem more interesting than it is? My guess is that Stapleton went for the latter option. I felt she did the best she could with a crime that may have seemed sensational at the time but doesn’t have enough unique features or newly discovered information to make it a good subject for a true crime study a century later, especially since the end result is that we still don’t know what happened to Olive. 2½ stars for me, so rounded up.
NB This book was provided for review by the publisher, Pan MacMillan via NetGalley.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
I’m afraid I found this quite disappointing overall. There are two real problems with it: firstly, that the crime is rather dull and sordid and, secondly, that there is no solution, so the reader is left to decide based on the information Stapleton provides, none of which is new and which was therefore all available to the investigators and jury at the time. Stapleton pads this simple unresolved story out with diversions to discuss the history of Provence, or the biography of local notables, or, unfortunately, salacious details of the sex lives of Olive and various other people involved. While these are all well enough written and seem well researched, they also veer between irrelevance and what felt like rather sleazy if mild voyeurism at points.
After a rather itinerant life, Olive had settled in Les Baux for the last few years of her life. Apparently she was a well regarded artist at the time and Les Baux was home to a tiny community of artists and writers. Olive, however, became unusually involved in the life of the village, a place that seems not to have been very welcoming to outsiders. The picture Stapleton paints of Olive is of a busybody, usually with good intentions, but using her moderate wealth to interfere unasked in the locals’ lives. Stapleton gives a list of all the people Olive had annoyed or offended, and it’s quite long. However most of these offences seem too trivial to have led anyone rational to murder.
The police soon zone in on François Pinet, a good-looking if surly young man to whom Olive had left the local hotel she had recently bought and with whom it transpired she had been having an affair of sorts. The hotel story – who owned it, why Olive acquired it, who ran it, why it was the subject of a local feud – is complicated, and I never felt that Stapleton clarified it well enough. François’ family had previously owned it, and it was run by several members of the family. I found even quite late on that I didn’t know how these people were related to each other without flicking back to check.
The other prevailing theory was that Olive killed herself. This seemed unlikely in the extreme to me, and I wondered why both the police at the time and Stapleton now were giving it serious consideration. The theory as I gleaned it from the book is that Olive, in a sudden fit of depression that came on while she was still chewing the last bite of her evening meal, stripped off her skirt and shoes, walked in her underwear and stockinged feet round the side of the house, climbed a steep rock, squeezed through a very narrow gap into a water cistern and then shot herself – with that last bite of meal still in her gullet. This all seems so laughably unlikely that I felt there must have been elements missing from the description that had made professional investigators willing to consider it.
And that brings me to my final criticism, which is that the French police and justice system are shown as incompetent buffoons. François is eventually brought to trial (although we, the readers, already know he was acquitted, removing any suspense from the proceedings). The court scenes especially feel like something out of a Laurel and Hardy movie. Maybe it really was like that, but it felt a little like English superciliousness towards those quaintly silly French people over the Channel.
I always feel it must be tough for an author when they research a case that sounds as if it should be interesting, only to find that it isn’t really. Does one ditch the research and all that time investment, look for a new crime and start again? Or does one bash on, trying to add stuff around the periphery of the story to make it seem more interesting than it is? My guess is that Stapleton went for the latter option. I felt she did the best she could with a crime that may have seemed sensational at the time but doesn’t have enough unique features or newly discovered information to make it a good subject for a true crime study a century later, especially since the end result is that we still don’t know what happened to Olive. 2½ stars for me, so rounded up.
NB This book was provided for review by the publisher, Pan MacMillan via NetGalley.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
April 1, 2025
Such a beautiful book, what can only be described as a devastatingly sad story is presented with care and intention. I hope that through it Olive Branson’s complex and vivid life can become celebrated and known by many more people.
At the same time, it evocatively brings to life 1920s Provence; a place about to change completely. There has been so much care taken in this book to thoroughly explore the place and the people involved in the case.
At the same time, it evocatively brings to life 1920s Provence; a place about to change completely. There has been so much care taken in this book to thoroughly explore the place and the people involved in the case.
May 12, 2025
I don't read a lot of non-fiction, but when I do I often turn to true crime books like this one. The crime in question here is the murder – or could it be suicide? – of Olive Branson, an Englishwoman in her forties found dead at her farmhouse in a village in Provence. This happens in April 1929, when she is discovered submerged in a water tank outside the house, a bullet wound between her eyes and a revolver nearby. The local policeman and doctor conclude that Olive shot herself, but not everyone is happy with this verdict. Back in England, Olive’s wealthy, influential cousin demands that the case be reopened, so one of France’s top detectives, Alexandre Guibbal, is summoned from Marseille to investigate.
It’s an intriguing mystery! Could Olive really have lifted the heavy cistern lid, lowered herself in and shot herself – with her left hand, despite evidence suggesting that she was right-handed? Guibbal doesn’t think so and quickly turns his attentions to François Pinet, believed to be a lover of Olive’s for whom she had changed her will to leave him the Monte Carlo Hotel, which she had recently purchased. As evidence mounts up against Pinet, he insists that he is innocent and is defended by many of the villagers who are keen to support ‘one of their own’. There’s eventually a trial, but even then a lot of questions are left unanswered. Susannah Stapleton can’t – and doesn’t – give us those answers, leaving us to draw our own conclusions and try to decide what really happened.
I enjoyed That Dark Spring overall, although it took me a while to get into it due to the amount of background information provided in the first half of the book: a history of the village of Les Baux and the Baussenc people; an account of Olive’s early life and her career as an artist; detailed descriptions of the two rival hotels in Les Baux; and a long and (as far as I could tell) irrelevant biography of the poet Frédéric Mistral. Some padding is to be expected in books of this type, of course, but I found that I only became fully engaged with the story when it returned to the central crime. There are some points that wouldn’t be out of place in a detective novel, such as where Guibbal consults an astronomer in an attempt to decide exactly when darkness fell on the night of the crime or where Pinet tries to use the sighting of a car as an alibi and becomes entangled in his own lies.
It’s frustrating that we still don’t know the truth behind Olive’s death and probably never will. If Pinet was innocent and we assume that suicide was unlikely, that must mean someone else got away with murder – but who was it? Stapleton doesn’t really steer us into one way of thinking or another; she just provides the facts and some possible theories for us to consider. She suggests that the police may have been so determined just to pin the blame on somebody that they ignored or failed to collect important evidence, leaving Pinet’s fate up to the lawyers and the jury.
Stapleton has drawn on a number of primary sources and includes excerpts from Olive Branson’s diaries and letters throughout the text, giving it a more personal touch. There are also notes at the end, a bibliography and a list of Olive’s exhibited artworks. I had never heard of Olive until now, so it’s good to have learned a little bit about her. I’ll have to go back and read Susannah Stapleton’s other book – The Adventures of Maud West, Lady Detective.
It’s an intriguing mystery! Could Olive really have lifted the heavy cistern lid, lowered herself in and shot herself – with her left hand, despite evidence suggesting that she was right-handed? Guibbal doesn’t think so and quickly turns his attentions to François Pinet, believed to be a lover of Olive’s for whom she had changed her will to leave him the Monte Carlo Hotel, which she had recently purchased. As evidence mounts up against Pinet, he insists that he is innocent and is defended by many of the villagers who are keen to support ‘one of their own’. There’s eventually a trial, but even then a lot of questions are left unanswered. Susannah Stapleton can’t – and doesn’t – give us those answers, leaving us to draw our own conclusions and try to decide what really happened.
I enjoyed That Dark Spring overall, although it took me a while to get into it due to the amount of background information provided in the first half of the book: a history of the village of Les Baux and the Baussenc people; an account of Olive’s early life and her career as an artist; detailed descriptions of the two rival hotels in Les Baux; and a long and (as far as I could tell) irrelevant biography of the poet Frédéric Mistral. Some padding is to be expected in books of this type, of course, but I found that I only became fully engaged with the story when it returned to the central crime. There are some points that wouldn’t be out of place in a detective novel, such as where Guibbal consults an astronomer in an attempt to decide exactly when darkness fell on the night of the crime or where Pinet tries to use the sighting of a car as an alibi and becomes entangled in his own lies.
It’s frustrating that we still don’t know the truth behind Olive’s death and probably never will. If Pinet was innocent and we assume that suicide was unlikely, that must mean someone else got away with murder – but who was it? Stapleton doesn’t really steer us into one way of thinking or another; she just provides the facts and some possible theories for us to consider. She suggests that the police may have been so determined just to pin the blame on somebody that they ignored or failed to collect important evidence, leaving Pinet’s fate up to the lawyers and the jury.
Stapleton has drawn on a number of primary sources and includes excerpts from Olive Branson’s diaries and letters throughout the text, giving it a more personal touch. There are also notes at the end, a bibliography and a list of Olive’s exhibited artworks. I had never heard of Olive until now, so it’s good to have learned a little bit about her. I’ll have to go back and read Susannah Stapleton’s other book – The Adventures of Maud West, Lady Detective.
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April 1, 2025This was such a fascinating read! I'd not heard of Olive Branson's case before but I was sucked straight in. I needed to know what happened to her. I kept thinking about the case of Elisa Lam when reading this as the way they were both found and the murder or suicide question were similar in both.
I enjoyed reading about the 1920s in France and the differences between French life and English life.
I am still conflicted on whether it was a murder or a suicide but on the whole, I don't think that was the aim of this book, I feel the author wanted Olive Branson's name out there and for me, that is certainly what happened.
*i don’t star rate non fiction
I enjoyed reading about the 1920s in France and the differences between French life and English life.
I am still conflicted on whether it was a murder or a suicide but on the whole, I don't think that was the aim of this book, I feel the author wanted Olive Branson's name out there and for me, that is certainly what happened.
*i don’t star rate non fiction
May 3, 2025
Was the bizarre death of Olive Branson—discovered in a cistern with a gunshot wound to the head, her last meal still caught in her throat—a suicide? A murder committed by someone she'd wronged, a jilted lover, or for money? Stapleton's book delves into this mystery and its ensuing fallout, with her lush prose recreating the atmosphere of Edwardian Provence and the course of the baffling investigation into Branson's death. Incorporating extensive research and primary sources into her account, she traces the media circus and misinformation surrounding this case (some things never change, it seems) and how it even courted controversy surrounding Franco-British international relations. While the available evidence doesn't allow Stapleton to identify a culprit, the novelistic prose and characterisation of THAT DARK SPRING draws you into the riddles of Branson's life and death.
September 6, 2025
An interesting true crime story surrounding the death of Edith May Olive Branson, known as Olive, a well known British artist, who was found shot dead in the cistern, water tank, of her home in Provence on 27th April 1929. The local police and doctor said suicide, but the Flying Squad from Marsailles came down to murder and arrested a young man, Francoise Pinot. The story boils down to a court case with lots of conflicting stories but little hard evidence. In the end, the jury makes its verdict, and there is euphoria in the room. The author has a conflicting view but presents only speculation.
An interesting listen, but would have been better in book form. Three stars.
An interesting listen, but would have been better in book form. Three stars.
May 5, 2025
In April 1929 the body of Englishwoman Olive Branson was found in the cistern at her rural property in France. Initially deemed a suicide, further evidence showed it was more likely to have been murder. Stapleton does a good job of presenting the facts and painting a vivid picture of the life and death of the eccentric artist.
October 30, 2025
Enjoyed reading descriptions about Provence in 1920’s in places that are familiar. In particular the history of les joutes nautiques but this story was too laboured and I thought about abandoning it a few times. Though it did bear out what a friend told me having moved to the area that the old families were very insular,
April 30, 2025
This book really had me gripped - I knew nothing of Olive Benson before reading, and I hope this book helps to shine a light on her fascinating life. For fans of In Cold Blood, The Five, and I’ll Be Gone In The Dark, this is a brilliant book that begins by telling the unsung story of Olive’s life, and goes on to weave together strands of evidence exploring an historic murder mystery. Examining never-before-seen evidence, the author creates a gripping narrative that explores Olive’s unconventional life and tragic death.
September 25, 2025
Wonderful writing, intriguing story that has been thoroughly researched. Evocative and absorbing.
March 9, 2025
1929. Provence. The body of an English woman is found floating in her cistern, with a bullet in the brain. Suicide - or murder?
This was so good, so well written it could have been a novel.
This stuck in my mind when I wasn't reading it, begging me to come back for another chapter, to peel back the world of Provence and the lives of those living within the small village that Olive had called her final home. More than just an unsolved mystery, this is a love letter to that time and part of France, to a lost world. A time where a car driving past stuck in the mind, to where time was measured by daylight (or lack of it) and where it could be believed that the English wore a shirt and stockings as funeral clothes.
Olive deserves so much more than she received - not just justice for whatever did happen that fateful night, but for her art, now largely and unfairly forgotten.
This engaging tale goes some distance to fix that and while it does not - cannot - answer what happened that night, it does draw a very detailed and suggestive picture, able to rival Olive's work.
~Thank you to NetGalley for the ARC in return for an honest review of the book~
This was so good, so well written it could have been a novel.
This stuck in my mind when I wasn't reading it, begging me to come back for another chapter, to peel back the world of Provence and the lives of those living within the small village that Olive had called her final home. More than just an unsolved mystery, this is a love letter to that time and part of France, to a lost world. A time where a car driving past stuck in the mind, to where time was measured by daylight (or lack of it) and where it could be believed that the English wore a shirt and stockings as funeral clothes.
Olive deserves so much more than she received - not just justice for whatever did happen that fateful night, but for her art, now largely and unfairly forgotten.
This engaging tale goes some distance to fix that and while it does not - cannot - answer what happened that night, it does draw a very detailed and suggestive picture, able to rival Olive's work.
~Thank you to NetGalley for the ARC in return for an honest review of the book~
April 22, 2025
A very sad story revolving around an artist now largely unknown. In 1929 the body of artist Olive Branson was found in the water tank outside her home in Provence with a bullet hole between her eyes and a revolver nearby. The book looks into whether this was suicide, as originally decided, or murder and brings both Olive and the time and place very vividly to life. The book is extremely well researched and written, reading more like a novel, and it’s nice to see attention brought back to Olive and her beautiful work.
Thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for an advance copy in return for an honest review.
Thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for an advance copy in return for an honest review.
September 2, 2025
Book borrowed from Stirling Library following reviews in Guardian /Times newspapers
I enjoyed the first third of the book but as it progressed I found it increasingly difficult to keep track of the raft of those people who were involved/ suspected in the strange death of the British Artist Olive Branson in Provence the late 1920’s .A glossary would have been useful
The story is intriguing but the book becomes more and more dense page by page ,a veritable thicket of detail.
2.5
I enjoyed the first third of the book but as it progressed I found it increasingly difficult to keep track of the raft of those people who were involved/ suspected in the strange death of the British Artist Olive Branson in Provence the late 1920’s .A glossary would have been useful
The story is intriguing but the book becomes more and more dense page by page ,a veritable thicket of detail.
2.5
August 22, 2025
DNFd at 15%
What's with all the history lessons?? I wanted to read a True Crime mystery and all I got were the ramblings about the history of the location, then the personal histories of the victims family, then the history of some bloody poet!
It was an effort to get to page 71 at all. A book best avoided!!!
What's with all the history lessons?? I wanted to read a True Crime mystery and all I got were the ramblings about the history of the location, then the personal histories of the victims family, then the history of some bloody poet!
It was an effort to get to page 71 at all. A book best avoided!!!
April 23, 2025
3.5 stars
November 21, 2025
I listened for about 2 hours and just couldn’t carry on with it. Had it been read like a novel I’m sure I would have finished it but, unfortunately , I was bored and life is too short!
Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews