Andrea Camilleri

It's hard not to sympathise with Montalbano about the heat. Especially as I sit here trying to write this note on a 38°C day. With a worse one to come. It's something that was really particularly marked in this book - the way the heat became a part of the story, just as the sense of place, and character is so very strong. You could see Montalbano and his colleagues slogging out an investigation in the dreadful heat. You could sympathise with him when the holiday house from hell reared its ugly head, and you definitely could understand how he might be tempted by the twin-sister of the murder victim, no matter how wrong it seems.

At the heart of the book is another tightly constructed plot with aspects of the political and the Mafia built in, but not in a manner overwhelming. This isn't a story about the Mafia's control, rather it's a story about the possible outcomes, the idea that some people might be protected as a result of their connections. And it's a story, as always, about Montalbano's dogged pursuit of the truth. To the detriment of a lot around him. Except his meals of course. Some things are sacrosanct.

There's a Renault Twingo referred to as having "committed suicide" when Gallo, the station's driver, he of the "Indianapolis Complex", slams into it in a spectacular example of mad driving that had me crying with laughter on page 4 of VOICE OF THE VIOLIN. Which is not a bad writing feat at all, in 4 pages you know that Montalbano's in a mood after a fabulous meal was interrupted by his nemesis Catarella. That his car's in the shop and he has to get to a funeral. That Gallo's a madman, and there's now a green Renault Twingo parked on the side of the road that's now got a smashed rear end. And you're laughing.

There's nothing particularly funny about the subsequent discoveries when Montalbano returns more than a bit intrigued as to why nobody has rung the station breathing fire over the damage to their car. And it's not all plain sailing in this case as Montalbano battles mutual dislike between him and his new boss, has the investigation taken off him with dreadful consequences, and stares down a bit of discontent in his team all whilst he battles to come to grips with a major upset in his personal life.

As is expected in this series, tight, descriptive, brilliant storytelling with a wonderfully engaging central character who has raised grumpiness to a glorious art form.
 

Please don't ask me what the correct order of this series is, as I've got absolutely no idea. I've never found the need to worry about it as each book works on its own, and each book is one of those little pieces of joy that just make you feel good.

Part of it has got to be Inspector Montalbano who is just so gloriously grumpy and idiosyncratic that he leaps alive from each and every page. Part of it is the setting which is woven into the action so seamlessly that you're just there, in that location, beside that ocean, in those restaurants, with those people. But definitely it's that food, which, frankly, I'm starting to think there should be a law against. You simply cannot read one of these books without constant mental references to the decided lack of wonderful meals lurking in your own refrigerator. (Note to self, first sniff of a Lotto win and we're hiring one of those housekeepers that cook like he has!).

Of course, none of the pluses thus far touch on the nature of the plots in these books, which are also extremely good. Almost masterclasses on tight, taut, clever plots in succinct but fully formed stories, decorated brilliantly by all the other aspects.

I dip into this series these days when I want a bit of comfort reading. And when I'm not on a diet.
 

A large part of the attraction of these novels is the wonderfully grumpy, slightly eccentric, marvellously self-involved Inspector Montalbano.  And the food - the meals that Montalbano insists on partaking on a regular basis are frankly, almost obscenely fantastic.  Of course, for the books to be completely satisfactory there has actually got to be a story, and as with all these books, the story here is superbly Italian in its feel.  The financier Emanuele Gargano has disappeared - as has a large amount of money that a lot of local retirees invested with him.  An investigation had been undertaken but it seems to have gone nowhere.  Everyone seems to be resigned to the idea that the Mafia have dealt with a problem.  It's not until one elderly local man finds the news that his money has gone too much for him, and starts waving a gun around, that Montalbano's interest is sparked.

The standard of the initial missing persons investigation doesn't impress Montalbano.  But his reopening of the search occurs at a time when Montalbano is questioning his own life in his own way.  His ongoing long distance love affair with Livia is getting more fraught, for Montalbano in particular.  His housekeeper taking a couple of days off causes him all sorts of personal upset (despite her arranging a replacement), and it just doesn't seem to take much at all to tip him over into rage these days.  None of this being helped by a confrontation with the Commissioner over accusations of impropriety.  Basically Montalbano is grumpy.  Very very grumpy.

Even though the main concentration of these books is Montalbano there is an ensemble cast that reoccurs in all books.  Whilst it may help to understand everyone to have read earlier books in the series, each story can stand on its own.  The tone is, however, very Italian, very biting, and you just can't emphasis how grumpy Montalbano can get.  But everyone is in their own way, fantastic, and involving, and the books are like trips to the sunny beaches and trattorias of beautiful Sicily.  You can smell the food he eats, you can see the tables settings.  You can feel the sun, the wind, the rain.  You can hear the shouting, the arguing, see the smiling faces.    If you've not read an Inspector Montalbano series then I really can't recommend them highly enough.  If you're lucky enough to have access to Australian SBS Television they recently played an all too short series of TV movies based on the books that were very very well done as well.