4.5★
“Gabri rose, trembling, to his feet. ‘Dear God,’ he cried, making the sign of the cross with his fingers. ‘It’s the pre-dead.’
At the mullioned window Ruth Zardo’s eyes narrowed and she gave him half a sign of the cross.”
HA! This is what I love about Penny’s writing. Her characters are such characters, from the gentle Gabri to the crotchety poet Ruth.
The quiet hamlet of Three Pines, near the Canadian-US border, is enjoying/enduring April, with its fickle weather. Trees bud, bulbs bloom, killer frosts laugh and do what killer frosts do.
We reacquaint ourselves with old friends and meet newcomers to the village. Among these is Madeleine, who has moved in with her old school pal Hazel and Hazel’s daughter, Sophie. Madeleine has always been a bright sun whom everyone wants to be near and on whom almost everyone has some sort of a crush, men and women both.
Another newcomer arrives, Jeanne, a self-proclaimed Wiccan (like a witch), enticed by an ad indicating Three Pines may be a site of some spiritual power, so Gabri insists she hold a seance. What fun!
The first one, on Good Friday, didn’t stir anything, so they decide to hold a real seance at the old Hadley house, the scene of some pretty awful activities in the previous Three Pines mysteries.
That seance follows a great meal. Penny’s people make wonderful food and are always munching on flaky, buttery croissants and thick soups, sturdy roast dinners, and luscious desserts. It’s half the fun of the books. Well, not half, but it is delicious reading.
Of course, the Hadley House seance proves a little more serious, with someone toppling over dead!
Cue Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, the father or uncle everyone wishes they’d grown up with. A wise, well-mannered, thoughtful gentleman, now a new grandfather, in his mid-fifties. His old pal and boss at the Sûreté du Québec assigns Gamache to head to Three Pines with some agents and find out what happened.
He takes Agent Yvette Nichol with him, much to the distress of his loyal, adoring offsider, Agent Jean Guy Beauvoir, who loathes Nichol, which is understandable.
“Agent Nichol seemed to collect resentments, collect and even manufacture. She was a perfect little producer of slights and sores and irritations. Her factory went night and day, churning out anger.”
We know Gamache is a master at inspiring confidence and harmony, so why inflict her on the community, this woman who is so sullen and sloppy (hair-hanging-into-her-soup-sloppy, crumbs-on-her-jacket-sloppy)? Beauvoir is so frustrated at one point, that he fantasises a bit.
“‘Agent Nichol,’ Beauvoir barked. He could feel the stone he’d found by the Bella Bella and put in his pocket yearning to fly. To smash bone, to grind into that head until it hit her tiny, atrophied brain. And replace it. And who would know the difference?”
Tempting as it is, he refrains, but interestingly, Nichol and Beauvoir and the rock feature together later in the story. Agents Isabelle Lacoste and Robert Lemieux were easier to get along with.
“. . . he was already Beauvoir’s favorite. He liked young agents who idolized him.”. Well, duh. Of course.
There is another thread running through this. We know Gamache was involved in some internal brouhaha in the past when he tried to clean up the department when he discovered the crooked activities of its head, a certain Arnot. The Arnot case keeps surfacing, old as it is, and we’re left wondering what’s going on until fairly late in the story. We know who the instigator of the revenge is, but we don’t really understand why.
Penny shows us the love and tenderness between the villagers and between Gamache and his family and team, and the welcoming nature of Three Pines to the lost and forlorn. Sitting by fireside, sipping merlot or hot drink is soothing indeed.
But, sadly, some are so forlorn, that murder seems their only solution. Gamache uncovers it, as he uncovers some more about the revenge. And in both cases, what Myrna, the colourful local bookseller, explains to Gamache at one point helps us understand how he figured out what to look for.
“‘The near enemy. It’s a psychological concept. Two emotions that look the same but are actually opposites. The one parades as the other, is mistaken for the other, but one is healthy and the other’s sick, twisted. . .
There are three couplings,’ said Myrna, . . . ‘Attachment masquerades as Love, Pity as Compassion and Indifference as Equanimity. . .
Compassion involves empathy. You see the stricken person as equal. Pity doesn’t. If you pity someone, you feel superior. . . .
Friendships, marriages. Any intimate relationship. Love wants the best for others. Attachment takes hostages. . .
Equanimity is balance. . . . An ability to accept things and move on. . . .
But some . . . Are psychotic. They just don’t feel pain. . . They don’t care about others. They don’t feel like the rest of us. . . .
The problem is telling one from the other.’”
So there you have it. We should be able to solve all mysteries from now on, right? I’ll have to see how I do on the next one. :)