‘The Chalk Circle Man' (US) is the first Fred Vargas book I’ve
read and I knew I’d become a fan of her work within a few pages.
This is an extraordinary book that has a different feel and
flavour to any of the crime-fiction I’ve read of late.
Jean-Baptiste Adamsberg has just been appointed as
Commissaireof the police headquarters in Paris’ 5th
arrondissement. He’s a small town boy
arriving in the city as if by accident, who has the ability to solve crimes by
using his intuitions, senses and uncanny thought-processes and has a reputation
based upon that. For the logic and
collection of evidence, he relies upon his team. After solving a murder by working on
gut-feeling, he wins over the wonderful Danglard and from then on they begin to
build an unusual relationship based upon like and mutual respect.
When the chalk circles of the title begin to appear around
seemingly random objects across Paris, Jean-Baptiste takes an interest. He senses that the objects contained within
the circles are going to become bigger and that there’s something sinister at
hand. Danglard is detailed the job of
keeping in touch with the circles as they appear, which is good because he’s a
morning person – afternoon’s tend to be slightly less efficient due to the
consumption of wine. There’s a wonderful
humour to the way the killing is introduced and the case proper begins:
‘Two circles were discovered: In the rue l’Abbe-de-l’Epee
was the cork from a wine bottle, and in the rue Pierre-et-Maire-Curie, in the 5th
Arrondissement, lay a woman with her throat cut, staring up at the sky.’
The joy of this book lies in the characters living within it
and in the ambience created.
It’s seductive.
Gently paced. Stimulates all of
the senses.
Jean-Baptiste is a wonderful creation. He’s handsomely ugly with an inner beauty
that influences all those around him. He’s
an optimistic fatalist who ‘always set out feeling hopeful and disappointment
was invariable painful.’ And how’s this
for a superb description of a man – ‘Adamsberg was open to every wind, like a
cabin made of rough planks, letting his brain receive fresh air...you could
imagine that everything that went in through his ears, eyes and nose – smoke,
colours, paper rustling – caused a draught to whistle through his thoughts and
stopped them solidifying.’
Danglard is also a gem.
He has 5 children to look after without help, bottles of wine to keep
him sane, a love of information and logic and he talks his cases through with
his kids when others might choose fairytales.
As if these two alone weren’t enough, there’s a great
supporting cast:
Mathilde is a marine biologist who collects oddities,
describes the world with reference to the sea, follows people like they’re
objects of study and remains sexy in spite of her years.
Charles Reyer is the ‘beautiful blind man’ who Mathilde ‘collects’. He’s bitter and awkward and likes to go up to
seeing folk to ask if he can help them across the road.
Clemence Valmont is another of Mathilde’s oddities. She’s old, but is constantly on the lookout
for a husband through the lonely hearts.
Here’s one she decides not to reply to:
‘M. 66. Well-preserved,
large appetite, small pension, would like to meet F., not too ugly, small
appetite, large pension, to keep each other company on the last stretch of the
road.’
What I particularly like about this story is the way the
solving of the crime felt almost incidental.
There are so many layers of interest that the attention is fully engaged
without any feeling that there’s a need to rush. It’s easy to get hooked to Jean-Baptiste’s
pace and that makes the read such a pleasure.
I often envy the French for those long lunch-breaks when everything
slows down and to me, this book has the feel of working slowly through a many –coursed
meal where each plate is delicious and you just know whatever is coming next is
guaranteed to be brilliant.
I’ve been a fan of Maigret for almost 30 years now. I’m about to add Jean-Baptiste and Danglard
right up there on the shelf next to him.
A delight.
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