In the opening pages of THE AGE OF DOUBT its hero must consider his own mortality in a rather peculiar way. He dreams that he has died and not only is he prevented from investigating his own death but his long term girlfriend is probably not going to bother going to the funeral. The reflective, sleepless night that results from this puts Salvo Montalbano in a fairly cranky mood as he drives to work the next morning but he does not get far. There is a traffic jam that starts not far from his house and he soon discovers that the night’s storm has washed out the road. He then rescues a young woman whose car is teetering on the edge of the washed away portion of road and ends up spending the next few hours with her. She is planning to meet her Aunt who sails a yacht called the Vanna which is due into the town’s port as soon as the wild weather abates. However, when the yacht does finally berth it is carrying a dead body found floating in a dingy near the port and the young woman who has been waiting all day for disappears without a trace.

Like its predecessors THE AGE OF DOUBT offers a blend of mild mystery, droll observations, a gorgeous setting and an occasional surreal moment. And for that reason it’s difficult to think of something intelligent to say that I haven’t said in my reviews of four previous novels in the series. The few things I can think of relate to the little hidden gems that I wouldn’t want to spoil for other readers.

So all I will say is that it is an enjoyable outing though, for me, not the best of the series as a good deal of it is taken up with Montalbano’s infatuation with a Lieutenant who works at the Port. Although it is very realistic that the older he gets the younger Montalbano’s love interests seem to be I’m not particularly enamoured of reading about this particular behaviour trait. But even so the book still has many delightful moments (plus a more melodramatic ending than is normally the case) and fans of the series won’t want to miss it.

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I have also reviewed August Heat, The Wings of the Sphinx, The Track of Sand and The Potter’s Field

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My rating 3/5
Translator Stephen Sartarelli
Publisher Penguin [this translation 2012, original edition 2009]
ISBN978014312092
Length 273 pages
Format paperback
Book Series #14 in the Inspector Montalbano series.
Source borrowed from the library

Although I haven’t read all the books in this series I have read enough of them to both know what to expect when opening the front cover of a new one and to eagerly anticipate my expectations being met. Happily I was not disappointed with the 13th instalment of the Inspector Salvo Montalbano series. At the centre of this book and its predecessors is an intelligent, introspective protagonist who loves good food, gives credence to his dreams and is in an unhappy struggle with the ageing process. Here he is called out to a rain-sodden crime scene where a body – or at least parts of one – has been discovered in a bin bag. When all the pieces of the poor individual have been collected it turns out to have been a middle-aged man but he is difficult to identify. As Montalbano grapples with the beginnings of the case several other troubles bubble to the surface including a beautiful woman reporting her husband missing and the behaviour of Montalbano’s faithful deputy Augello becomes increasingly erratic.

In its review of this novel Kirkus recommends the book for “mystery readers who enjoy the journey more than the solution” and I think that is a perfect description of who should read this book. The solution to the mystery is actually quite obvious from relatively early on but what kept my interest was watching how the case affected Montalbano and to see if things could be resolved so that those near and dear to him remained unhurt without causing lasting damage to Montalbano’s own integrity. And along the way there is the usual mixture of irascibility, good food and bad driving as well as some provided by the police station’s linguistically challenged desk sergeant and Montalbano’s own cynical side shining through such as when he muses that

“Ingrid’s husband was a known ne’er-do-well, so it was only logical that he should turn to politics”.

Amongst all the gentle humour and stopping for long, delicious lunches there is some meat to the novel as it explores the nature of betrayal and its many guises. In turn this pushes the always philosophical Montalbano into consideration of more biblical references than I have seen him do in the past but they fit well into the story. In fact the only somewhat clunky cultural reference came from the self-referential scene in which Montalbano reads an Andrea Camilleri novel that turns out to have an indirect relevance to the case. This and the novel’s many purely slapstick moments prevented it from being the best of this series for me though perhaps these are the elements others look for.

Irrespective of any minor quibbles I thoroughly enjoyed THE POTTER’S FIELD which was, always, deftly translated by Steven Sartarelli whose notes at the end of each novel are almost as much of a treat as the story itself. It mixes humour and seriousness with ease and is just surreal enough to be surprising without stepping into absurd territory. Fans of the series won’t want to miss it though I probably wouldn’t recommend it as a starting point for people new to the series (its predecessor THE TRACK OF SAND would be a better place to start).

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THE POTTER’S FIELD has been reviewed at Crime Scraps, Murder by Type and The Crime Segments

I have also reviewed August Heat, The Wings of the Sphinx and The Track of Sand

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My rating 3.5/5
Translator Stephen Sartarelli
Publisher Penguin [this translation 2011, original edition 2008]
ISBN 9780143120131
Length 277 pages
Format paperback
Book Series #13 in the Inspector Montalbano series.
Source borrowed from the library

The previous two installments of the Inspector Montalbano books that I’ve read have been enjoyable despite seeming a little surreal, particularly when it comes to the local politics they depict. But as I read The Track of Sand while the Italian political system crumbled (again) in a heap on my TV screen I couldn’t help but be reminded of the old adage that truth is almost always stranger than fiction. In fact a book featuring a disappearing horse carcass, pathologically uncommunicative neighbouring police jurisdictions and a protagonist haunted by vaguely erotic dreams is positively tame in comparison the farce that is Silvio Berlusconi.

Montalbano wakes one morning to see a horse lying on the beach outside his front window. When he investigates he discovers the horse is dead, “its whole body bearing the signs of a long, ferocious beating” which makes Montalbano furious to the point of imagining he could do the same to the horse’s killers. He calls for his offsiders to come and help him collect evidence and review the crime scene so that they might track down the animal’s killers. Unfortunately the carcass disappears before the team has a chance to do everything they need to do and the investigation becomes somewhat haphazard. They do eventually learn that the horse is likely one (of two) kidnapped from the stables of a wealthy man and this introduces the beautiful Rachele Esterman, horse rider and seducer of men, to the picture.

I don’t imagine anyone reads this series purely for the plots. There always seems to be some woolly meanderings and illogical moments; here, for example, almost the entire mystery would have been avoided if only one of three supposedly intelligent and experienced policemen had taken a single photograph of the dead horse. There’s a rather clumsy link to another case too that seems to assume more knowledge than the reader of this book could have. But there is so much else to enjoy about the novels that it’s easy enough to let slide these relatively minor problems.

Montalbano’s fury on behalf of the poor horse and determination to locate the culprits, his obsession with finding good food (and his reaction when served stuff of lesser quality), his fear of getting older and his sporadically autocratic behaviour make him a well-rounded, if not always likeable character. His almost prudish reaction to his unorthodox seduction by the gorgeous Rachele is probably all too credible (because apparently the word no is not in his vocabulary). Though this was one of the things which prompted me to reflect on the disheartening depiction of women in this book and the series overall. On my limited exposure to one quarter of the series I can only remember women being seen as victims, his sexual partners or his cleaner. If he hasn’t slept with Ingrid then she’s the exception but there’s so much unresolved sexual tension between the two I’m not sure she can count as a fully formed character in her own right.

However, as always, the book is filled to the brim with rich humour, stemming mostly from the dialect-laden dialogue and Montalbano’s internal monologue. It reminds me how dolts like me who can only read in one language are indebted to translators with the skill of Stephen Sartarelli. The surreal exchange between Montalbano and the linguistically challenged Catarella when Rachele Esterman first appears in the story is, alone, worth reading the book for. This is a very readable and (in an age when bloated 500+ page books appear to becoming ‘the norm’) delightfully short novel offering many moments of pure joy for the reader.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

The Track of Sand has been reviewed at Crime Scraps, Euro Crime, Milo’s Rambles

I have also reviewed August Heat and The Wings of the Sphinx

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My rating 3.5/5
Translator Stephen Sartarelli
Publisher Mantle [this translation 2010, original edition 2007]
ISBN 9780330507660
Length 279 pages
Format hard cover
Book Series #12 in the Inspector Montalbano series.
Source borrowed from the library

This post is published at http://reactionstoreading.com if you are seeing it at another site then it has been stolen and/or used entirely without permission.

When a young woman’s body is found in a rubbish dump Inspector Silvio Montalbano and his team are at first baffled. Her face has been severely damaged so the only identifying feature they have to go on is a tattoo of what appears to be a butterfly on her shoulder and Montalbano uses his friends in the local media to publicise this and try to drum up some information. Eventually the team is led to a charitable organisation in which things are not always what they appear to be.

I read my first Camilleri novel only last year and while I liked it, I did not fall in love with its protagonist as so many other readers have done. However on my second meeting with this character and his environment I am well and truly smitten. This is, quite simply, a delightfully concise book full of humour and warmth and I revelled in its myriad of little joys that felt like they were hidden just for me.

Montalbano is once again worried about his advancing years but whereas this annoyed me a little in the previous book here I found it amusing and at times even poignant. The depiction of two Montalbanos inside his head who argue with each other about his motivations and behaviour is priceless (and relief-inducing because it’s nice to know I’m not the only one who hears such voices). He is also experiencing some difficulties with his long-time love interest Livia but he doesn’t let this get in the way of his investigating. Well not much anyway. In the end he wades through all these personal problems, stands up to the ever-present political and business interests who try to influence his work and even untangles all the wrongly transcribed messages from his devoted but fairly useless desk sergeant Catarella to solve the crime with intelligence and a dash of panache.

Much of the enjoyment in the book stems from the word play and language games with which the book is littered; a testament both to Camilleri and his translator Stephen Sartarelli. I cannot think of any aspect of translation that would be more difficult to get right than the range of both obvious and subtle humour on display here. But the book is not all laughter and lightness; alongside the almost slapstick moments such as a police department which can’t afford petrol for its cars there are touching elements too like Montalbano’s growing intolerance for the death he is confronted with in his work and on his television screen.

I read this book in not much more than a single sitting and enjoyed every minute of it. The implausible but nevertheless compelling set pieces, the seriousness with which Montalbano treats lunch and the brilliant depiction of local life and customs are a welcome treat. In the middle of a cold and gloomy winter you can’t ask for much more than a book which puts a smile on your face for several days.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

The Wings of the Sphinx has been reviewed at Crime Scraps, Euro Crime (By Maxine) and The Game’s Afoot

This is one of seven books nominated for this year’s International Dagger award for translated crime fiction which will be announced later this month. So far I have read Anders Roslund & Borge Hellstrom’s Three Seconds, Ernesto Mallo’s Needle in a Haystack, Fred Vargas’ An Uncertain Place and Valerio Varesi’s River of Shadows. I have Domingo Villar’s Death on a Galician Shore and Jean-Francois Parot’s The Saint-Florentin Murders still to read. I’ve got both on my eReader and will definitely read the Villar but haven’t yet decided on the Parot – it sounds a bit heavy-going for someone who hasn’t read any of the earlier books in the series.

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My rating 4/5
Translator Stephen Sartarelli
Publisher Penguin [2009]
ISBN 9780143116608
Length 227 pages
Format paperback
Book Series #11 in the Inspector Montalbano series
Source borrowed from the library