We’re back again with a discussion thread — this time for the second Inspector Gamache book, A Fatal Grace.
What was your take on A Fatal Grace? I now think of this book every time I see a Pier One ad for Li Bien balls. Curious — in particular — to get everyone’s take on the ending and Gamache’s decision.
Today and going forward, please avoid spoilers for future books in our discussions. Thanks!
Gamache's decision to appoint Robert Lemeiux to homicide? I don't think that Gamache ever does anything for an obvious or straightforward reason. Can't say anything more because... spoilers, LOL.
By the ending, do you mean finding out that Crie was CC's murderer? Or the paper bag from Billy Williams that Reine-Marie gives Armand?
The first, I knew because of seeing Three Pines before I read this book (I actually only realized I'd missed the early books because of the series). The plot is somewhat different, Crie is certainly different, but we have a different understanding of exactly how damaged she is and has been by both parents. So it makes even more sense that Crie would murder her mother, who was a pathetic monster, really.
Billy Williams is the definition of "still waters run deep". Unless he really is God (which I don't think was the intention of that scene), I think he is just very observant. And overheard Gamache's conversation with Emilie Longpre in the bistro, including The Four Lines (which we don't actually see until the very last page). People in discussions make much of not understanding Billy, but my take on this is this: Have you ever been to Newfoundland? If you go to the more isolated parts of the province, and hear Newfoundlanders talk to each other, you will not, I guarantee you, understand a single word, even though it is ostensibly English (that is, unless you, too, are a Newfoundlander). Yet if you ask them a question, they can speak English that is completely understandable. I think Billy is absolutely capable of speaking perfect English -- but he's selective in who he speaks it with.
Both Lemieux and Billy's paper bag are part of the long arc. So no spoilers, but they are.
Two other people in this novel that I would like to address are Yvette Nichol and Jean-Guy.
Nichol is an enigma, and pretty messed up. I've even heard one reader suggest that she is neuro-diverse. But Penny is holding her cards close to her chest on this character. She is, on the one hand, manipulative and needy and eager to advance (and do what she needs to in order to get there). But on the other hand, she's also the one who takes care of Beauvoir when he sick with the flu (including holding a puke bucket for him). Dysfunctional family life is something she has in common with him.
(I'm actually kind of curious about the "Beauvoir with the flu" scene in the book, and wonder what others think about it).
This novel is a key piece to the character development of Beauvoir, both the picture of him as a brash young man throwing himself headlong into life, but also as someone who has already suffered some significant emotional damage in his youth and who doesn't really want to engage in any introspection whatsoever. The description on p. 59 of Beauvoir's fear of Gamache being able to read his mind/thoughts is both funny ("He'd find a lot of embarrassing stuff up there. More than a little pornography") and a sad description of a character who is intelligent and completely emotionally blocked. Having read this much later than subsequent books, it created a ton of context for what ensues (but no spoilers).
Okay, so let's unpack Crie, or the description of Crie. I was so thrown off by the fat phobic descriptions of her at the beginning of the book that I almost stopped reading. I wondered if Penny has regrets about the descriptions now, but I can't find anything online discussing her feelings when she looks back on the earlier books — just other people saying they also found the descriptions disturbing.
I'll also admit that I was disappointed when Yvette returned for this book. We get more depth and insight than we did in the first book, but you know that feeling when you didn't like a character, you thought they were gone, and then they pop up again? :-) She was definitely more interesting in this book as you learn her backstory.
I thought Crie was supposed to be imperfect by design - CC came off as the sort of person who would not tolerate imperfection in the things that showed (today, she’d be an annoying Instagram influencer).
Definitely the "imperfect" note in CC's "perfect" life but the descriptions of her body (even by Gamache!) made me feel like it was Penny bullying her own character. Especially when it was the narrator's description vs. the thoughts or words of another character.
Penney’s writing strikes me as full of subtle-- or maybe not so subtle-- judgements on her characters, particularly with respect to taste and style. For example, “good” female characters never wear too much makeup and always dress age appropriately. But Crie’s weight seems to me to be used as a manifestation of pain, discomfort and otherlyness. Her heaviness is described as something visually striking, and it’s placed in heartbreaking contrast with the girl’s bizarre clothing choices. They’re not only something we don’t expect to see on a large girl, they’re wrong for the season. So the description and comments about Crie’s weight strike me as more sympathetic than bullying. Crie is the stereotype of someone who eats to isolate themselves. She hasn’t learned constructive coping mechanisms (with the exception of singing), so she l hides behind n food -- and, yeah, murders her mother.
Great thoughts -- my perception is that she has an eating disorder (as who wouldn't under those circumstances). And CC feeds her chocolate as a gift, then castigated her for eating it.
I was also startled by the fatphobic language in the book! It’s really aggressive and cruel—to the point that at some points I wondered if it was a device. I also noticed her descriptions of Myrna’s fatness felt somewhat cruel. honestly dismayed at myself that I only noticed it in this reread, and not previous reads.
There is considerable overlap, but like the novels, there is also an overarching arc story. Some key character changes. I watched it more than once, and found that it gained texture. There would be spoilers to some degree, but I'm the person who will go to the end of a mystery first, so it doesn't bother me if I know what is going to happen. My husband thinks I'm nuts, but I know I'm not the only one LOL. BTW, I think Amazon did this automatically, but there are subtitles. Rossif Sutherland is a fluent Francophone, and the series took advantage of that -- so the French in it is subtitled.
I just finished the book about 15 minutes ago. I raced through the book, so I probably missed some of the nuances and threads, but throughout the book, the word "betrayal" kept coming to mind. With Crie, most definitely but also with others -- CC abused her in emotionally vicious ways, and her father - although scorned and belittled into an ineffectual lump, was after all, an adult - and he failed to protect his child. The reference to Crie's obesity at the beginning was hard to read and at first it felt like a lazy, predictable way to lay the foundation for Crie's distorted self-image and behavior. But I came to think of her physical fat as, literally, a protection -- a shield-- against every demoralizing moment that she had experienced so far in her life. She had no champion, no mentor, no hope of rescue - only damage. It broke my heart. The school was complicit. And I'm pissed at the town in general because they allowed their dislike/distain of CC to dismiss the child.
Gamache -- His character is a reading pleasure -- little more insight this time into his regrets, fears, acknowledgement of mistakes, as well as confirmation of his kindness, sense of justice, knowing right from wrong, persistence and love for his family and friends. And I adore Rene-Marie. AHHHHH . . .
Yvette Nichol -- not her again. I can only hope that whatever agenda she (and Robert Lemieux) are party to will be discovered and used by Gamache for his benefit.
Which brings me to through-lines or long arcs -- I'm not a huge fan. Penny has to lay the groundwork for that and sometimes it seems like an artificial insert into the book at hand. For example, the way that Yvette Nichol weaved in and out of the story, maybe improving, evolving, but maybe still poisonous (and I think "Beauvoir and the flu" falls into that category) -- it creates unnecessary ambiguity and asks a lot of a reader to take on faith that this is relevant information and there will be resolution somewhere down the road. And the confrontation between Gamache and the Surete -- just reading the first two books makes me sure that there will be one -- I'm dreading it already. I hope it doesn't take over the books.
With all that said, I can't wait to read the next book!
Elizabeth, those are great questions and I had to think about it for a bit. I've only been keeping track of what I read for about 3 years now - I took a look at my list and I don't seem to be much of a completist of series at all. So, it must be something associated with this series.
Ongoing character development is welcome and necessary, or the main characters will become stale caricatures over time. I view long arcs as something different - an overlay of plot beyond the confines of the specific book, perhaps. I think my issue may be that it came too soon in the series; it's still wet behind the ears. Solve a few murders; let me get used to the characters; draw me in slowly; then ask me to take the journey. This isn't a TV series that caters to a 60-minute attention span. I've heard it said that Penny doesn't hit her stride until the 4th book so maybe I should cut her some slack, yes?
The history is long and complicated (for those not familiar)
Re: the long arc. Both my husband and I have long discussions about how to manage characters over a long detective fiction series. Some, like the late Robert B. Parker (the Spenser series), were abysmal at it. Others, like Peter Robinson (who, sadly, just died) did better with it in the Banks books. Ian Rankin has admitted that he's kind of come to a dead end with Rebus, and I fully expect Michael Connolly to kill off Harry Bosch, after reading his last novel. Some authors do better with the long view of their detectives and related characters, but more often than not, there is limited change in the central characters. Where I've previously seen the most change is when the author deliberately makes the series limited (e.g Anne Cleeves with Jimmy Perez or Giles Blunt with Cardinal). I actually feel that Penny, whether intentional or not, has morphed this into one evolving uber-novel, and I don't think that there is actually anyone else who's done this. People do change and evolve, and kind of like in life, over time you get to know them better.
Love that distinction — it is an uber-novel. Which comes with benefits and drawbacks. You need to keep reading the next one but you also have a lot to remember from book to book, especially if you don't read them back to back.
Thank you, Kathi, for your response (and all the comments)! I've already made some notes and tucked it in the book for when I re-read (which I will, I'm sure).
The three graces are emblematic of so much of what the series is about -- a caring community, dignity and value in old age, family of choice and intention, and close,intimate friendships that support individuality, people who know who they are and are content with what they have, people who live simply but beautifully, with a connection to place. They are the fantasy of Three Pines and the Three Pines life. I’m not necessarily drawn to, or even like, any of the graces individually, but oh, what they have!
Here’s another one, or two. First is the books exploration of fantasy lives and how every character has, or has had, one. Second is the less common sightings of god in ordinary humans -- fisherman, bag lady, road worker. What do people make of these?
I also think of Clara's depiction of the Three Graces and its link to the four beautiful chorus lines from Leonard Cohen's "Anthem" that, really, are one of the underlying themes for the whole series (along with being one of the book titles). If you haven't heard the song, listen to the "Live in London" version on Spotify.
As a transplant to Montreal/Quebec, Penny has, I'm sure, read and listened to more Cohen than just one song. There is a mantra in the middle of Beautiful Losers -- "God is alive. Magic is afoot" (which Buffy Sainte-Marie turned into a song) and I feel like this describes the sort of magic realism of Penny's world. Where god or god or goddess (or whatever) can be manifested in a fisherman in Baie Mouton. Or a road worker. Or a homeless old woman. And where a community in the 21st century is not on any map or GPS.
Love both those thoughts. I found that image of the three women walking out into the lake so moving. But I didn't know if I believed they would kill themselves to protect Crie. No matter how sympathetic they were to her, at the end of the day, they barely knew her or interacted with her. I know their actions were about their goodness and their friendship with El, but it didn't ring true.
Gamache's decision to appoint Robert Lemeiux to homicide? I don't think that Gamache ever does anything for an obvious or straightforward reason. Can't say anything more because... spoilers, LOL.
By the ending, do you mean finding out that Crie was CC's murderer? Or the paper bag from Billy Williams that Reine-Marie gives Armand?
The first, I knew because of seeing Three Pines before I read this book (I actually only realized I'd missed the early books because of the series). The plot is somewhat different, Crie is certainly different, but we have a different understanding of exactly how damaged she is and has been by both parents. So it makes even more sense that Crie would murder her mother, who was a pathetic monster, really.
Billy Williams is the definition of "still waters run deep". Unless he really is God (which I don't think was the intention of that scene), I think he is just very observant. And overheard Gamache's conversation with Emilie Longpre in the bistro, including The Four Lines (which we don't actually see until the very last page). People in discussions make much of not understanding Billy, but my take on this is this: Have you ever been to Newfoundland? If you go to the more isolated parts of the province, and hear Newfoundlanders talk to each other, you will not, I guarantee you, understand a single word, even though it is ostensibly English (that is, unless you, too, are a Newfoundlander). Yet if you ask them a question, they can speak English that is completely understandable. I think Billy is absolutely capable of speaking perfect English -- but he's selective in who he speaks it with.
Both Lemieux and Billy's paper bag are part of the long arc. So no spoilers, but they are.
Two other people in this novel that I would like to address are Yvette Nichol and Jean-Guy.
Nichol is an enigma, and pretty messed up. I've even heard one reader suggest that she is neuro-diverse. But Penny is holding her cards close to her chest on this character. She is, on the one hand, manipulative and needy and eager to advance (and do what she needs to in order to get there). But on the other hand, she's also the one who takes care of Beauvoir when he sick with the flu (including holding a puke bucket for him). Dysfunctional family life is something she has in common with him.
(I'm actually kind of curious about the "Beauvoir with the flu" scene in the book, and wonder what others think about it).
This novel is a key piece to the character development of Beauvoir, both the picture of him as a brash young man throwing himself headlong into life, but also as someone who has already suffered some significant emotional damage in his youth and who doesn't really want to engage in any introspection whatsoever. The description on p. 59 of Beauvoir's fear of Gamache being able to read his mind/thoughts is both funny ("He'd find a lot of embarrassing stuff up there. More than a little pornography") and a sad description of a character who is intelligent and completely emotionally blocked. Having read this much later than subsequent books, it created a ton of context for what ensues (but no spoilers).
I do go on. Sorry :-)
Okay, so let's unpack Crie, or the description of Crie. I was so thrown off by the fat phobic descriptions of her at the beginning of the book that I almost stopped reading. I wondered if Penny has regrets about the descriptions now, but I can't find anything online discussing her feelings when she looks back on the earlier books — just other people saying they also found the descriptions disturbing.
I'll also admit that I was disappointed when Yvette returned for this book. We get more depth and insight than we did in the first book, but you know that feeling when you didn't like a character, you thought they were gone, and then they pop up again? :-) She was definitely more interesting in this book as you learn her backstory.
I thought Crie was supposed to be imperfect by design - CC came off as the sort of person who would not tolerate imperfection in the things that showed (today, she’d be an annoying Instagram influencer).
Definitely the "imperfect" note in CC's "perfect" life but the descriptions of her body (even by Gamache!) made me feel like it was Penny bullying her own character. Especially when it was the narrator's description vs. the thoughts or words of another character.
Penney’s writing strikes me as full of subtle-- or maybe not so subtle-- judgements on her characters, particularly with respect to taste and style. For example, “good” female characters never wear too much makeup and always dress age appropriately. But Crie’s weight seems to me to be used as a manifestation of pain, discomfort and otherlyness. Her heaviness is described as something visually striking, and it’s placed in heartbreaking contrast with the girl’s bizarre clothing choices. They’re not only something we don’t expect to see on a large girl, they’re wrong for the season. So the description and comments about Crie’s weight strike me as more sympathetic than bullying. Crie is the stereotype of someone who eats to isolate themselves. She hasn’t learned constructive coping mechanisms (with the exception of singing), so she l hides behind n food -- and, yeah, murders her mother.
Great thoughts -- my perception is that she has an eating disorder (as who wouldn't under those circumstances). And CC feeds her chocolate as a gift, then castigated her for eating it.
I was also startled by the fatphobic language in the book! It’s really aggressive and cruel—to the point that at some points I wondered if it was a device. I also noticed her descriptions of Myrna’s fatness felt somewhat cruel. honestly dismayed at myself that I only noticed it in this reread, and not previous reads.
I think that at the time the book was published, it was more acceptable to describe people in a way that would be considered fatphobic now.
I haven't watched the series yet — how much overlap is there with the books? If you haven't read some of the books yet, will they be ruined?
There are some changes but also a lot of spoilers.
Re: the series - don’t watch it until after you read the books.
There is considerable overlap, but like the novels, there is also an overarching arc story. Some key character changes. I watched it more than once, and found that it gained texture. There would be spoilers to some degree, but I'm the person who will go to the end of a mystery first, so it doesn't bother me if I know what is going to happen. My husband thinks I'm nuts, but I know I'm not the only one LOL. BTW, I think Amazon did this automatically, but there are subtitles. Rossif Sutherland is a fluent Francophone, and the series took advantage of that -- so the French in it is subtitled.
I just finished the book about 15 minutes ago. I raced through the book, so I probably missed some of the nuances and threads, but throughout the book, the word "betrayal" kept coming to mind. With Crie, most definitely but also with others -- CC abused her in emotionally vicious ways, and her father - although scorned and belittled into an ineffectual lump, was after all, an adult - and he failed to protect his child. The reference to Crie's obesity at the beginning was hard to read and at first it felt like a lazy, predictable way to lay the foundation for Crie's distorted self-image and behavior. But I came to think of her physical fat as, literally, a protection -- a shield-- against every demoralizing moment that she had experienced so far in her life. She had no champion, no mentor, no hope of rescue - only damage. It broke my heart. The school was complicit. And I'm pissed at the town in general because they allowed their dislike/distain of CC to dismiss the child.
Gamache -- His character is a reading pleasure -- little more insight this time into his regrets, fears, acknowledgement of mistakes, as well as confirmation of his kindness, sense of justice, knowing right from wrong, persistence and love for his family and friends. And I adore Rene-Marie. AHHHHH . . .
Yvette Nichol -- not her again. I can only hope that whatever agenda she (and Robert Lemieux) are party to will be discovered and used by Gamache for his benefit.
Which brings me to through-lines or long arcs -- I'm not a huge fan. Penny has to lay the groundwork for that and sometimes it seems like an artificial insert into the book at hand. For example, the way that Yvette Nichol weaved in and out of the story, maybe improving, evolving, but maybe still poisonous (and I think "Beauvoir and the flu" falls into that category) -- it creates unnecessary ambiguity and asks a lot of a reader to take on faith that this is relevant information and there will be resolution somewhere down the road. And the confrontation between Gamache and the Surete -- just reading the first two books makes me sure that there will be one -- I'm dreading it already. I hope it doesn't take over the books.
With all that said, I can't wait to read the next book!
How do you feel about arcs in other series? Is there something about this in particular that doesn't work?
The ongoing character development is actually one of my favorite things about this series.
Elizabeth, those are great questions and I had to think about it for a bit. I've only been keeping track of what I read for about 3 years now - I took a look at my list and I don't seem to be much of a completist of series at all. So, it must be something associated with this series.
Ongoing character development is welcome and necessary, or the main characters will become stale caricatures over time. I view long arcs as something different - an overlay of plot beyond the confines of the specific book, perhaps. I think my issue may be that it came too soon in the series; it's still wet behind the ears. Solve a few murders; let me get used to the characters; draw me in slowly; then ask me to take the journey. This isn't a TV series that caters to a 60-minute attention span. I've heard it said that Penny doesn't hit her stride until the 4th book so maybe I should cut her some slack, yes?
Sorry for talking/writing so much. This might provide some context for the confrontation:
https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/quebec-police-surete-neil-macdonald-aboriginal-women-1.3293187
The history is long and complicated (for those not familiar)
Re: the long arc. Both my husband and I have long discussions about how to manage characters over a long detective fiction series. Some, like the late Robert B. Parker (the Spenser series), were abysmal at it. Others, like Peter Robinson (who, sadly, just died) did better with it in the Banks books. Ian Rankin has admitted that he's kind of come to a dead end with Rebus, and I fully expect Michael Connolly to kill off Harry Bosch, after reading his last novel. Some authors do better with the long view of their detectives and related characters, but more often than not, there is limited change in the central characters. Where I've previously seen the most change is when the author deliberately makes the series limited (e.g Anne Cleeves with Jimmy Perez or Giles Blunt with Cardinal). I actually feel that Penny, whether intentional or not, has morphed this into one evolving uber-novel, and I don't think that there is actually anyone else who's done this. People do change and evolve, and kind of like in life, over time you get to know them better.
Love that distinction — it is an uber-novel. Which comes with benefits and drawbacks. You need to keep reading the next one but you also have a lot to remember from book to book, especially if you don't read them back to back.
Thank you, Kathi, for your response (and all the comments)! I've already made some notes and tucked it in the book for when I re-read (which I will, I'm sure).
Another one: Thoughts on the three graces?
The three graces are emblematic of so much of what the series is about -- a caring community, dignity and value in old age, family of choice and intention, and close,intimate friendships that support individuality, people who know who they are and are content with what they have, people who live simply but beautifully, with a connection to place. They are the fantasy of Three Pines and the Three Pines life. I’m not necessarily drawn to, or even like, any of the graces individually, but oh, what they have!
Here’s another one, or two. First is the books exploration of fantasy lives and how every character has, or has had, one. Second is the less common sightings of god in ordinary humans -- fisherman, bag lady, road worker. What do people make of these?
This is such a lovely description.
What a wonderful description! Thank you!
I also think of Clara's depiction of the Three Graces and its link to the four beautiful chorus lines from Leonard Cohen's "Anthem" that, really, are one of the underlying themes for the whole series (along with being one of the book titles). If you haven't heard the song, listen to the "Live in London" version on Spotify.
As a transplant to Montreal/Quebec, Penny has, I'm sure, read and listened to more Cohen than just one song. There is a mantra in the middle of Beautiful Losers -- "God is alive. Magic is afoot" (which Buffy Sainte-Marie turned into a song) and I feel like this describes the sort of magic realism of Penny's world. Where god or god or goddess (or whatever) can be manifested in a fisherman in Baie Mouton. Or a road worker. Or a homeless old woman. And where a community in the 21st century is not on any map or GPS.
I've never thought of these books as "magical realism" but I think that's a sharp observation.
Love both those thoughts. I found that image of the three women walking out into the lake so moving. But I didn't know if I believed they would kill themselves to protect Crie. No matter how sympathetic they were to her, at the end of the day, they barely knew her or interacted with her. I know their actions were about their goodness and their friendship with El, but it didn't ring true.