Month: August 2019

The Annotated Three Pines: Kingdom of the Blind

Post author By Christopher Melvin
Post date August 20, 2019
55 Comments on The Annotated Three Pines: Kingdom of the Blind

From (acknowledgements)
Whale oil beef hooked

Louise’s Thoughts:
Haha! I wonder how many of you recognized this quote from an earlier book (Book 2 in the series, when we first meet Billy Williams), and can de-code what it/he is trying to say. My editor, Hope Dellon to whom the book is dedicated, especially liked this moment between Gamache and Billy, and that’s why I use it. It’s also a running joke between us…sending each other deeply inappropriate cards etc with the ‘f’ word. Poor Armand has struggled the entire series to understand the back-woods man, though no one else seems to have difficulty. A trick is to say this phrase quickly out loud. But perhaps not in polite company.

From Pg. 4
Gamache looked again at the once-strong house and smiled. Feeling a kinship toward it. Things sometimes fell apart unexpectedly. It was not necessarily a reflection of how much they were valued.

Louise’s Thoughts:
Armand is still suspended from the Surete. An organization he helped save. And rebuild. But he’s also a realist and understands the difference between taking things personally, and politics. Between the way the world is, and the way it should be. His career has, to all appearances, fallen apart. But that doesn’t diminish his loyalty to the Surete, or the rank-and-file loyalty to him.

From Pg. 12
Gamache noticed that Myrna’s attitude had changed slightly. No longer fearful, she looked at their host with what appeared to be pity. There were some creatures who naturally evoked that reaction. Not given armor, or a poison bite, or the ability to fly or even run, what they had was equally powerful. The ability to look so helpless, so pathetic, that they could not possibly be a threat. Some even adopted them. Protected them. Nurtured them. Took them in.

Louise’s Thoughts:
This quote ends with the words, And almost always regretted it.. There’s a saying that I believe Gamache (or was it Myrna) quotes in an earlier book. The tyranny of the weak. It’s an uncomfortable issue to explore. The use of guilt, of manipulation, of victimhood by some, to get what they want. What makes this so uncomfortable is knowing that many people do legitimately need help. A kind and supportive ear. A hand up. In fact, we all do at times. I certainly had a low point, and people reached down and saved me. But I was anxious to get on my feet. As are most people. But a select few are not. They’ve made manipulation an art. So that even sophisticated people like Myrna fall prey. As she’s in danger of doing here.

From Pg. 58
“‘They fuck you up, your mum and dad. / They may not mean to, but they do,’ ” Ruth quoted. “I know that poem,” said Benedict, and all eyes swung to him. “But that’s not the way it goes.” “Oh really?” said Ruth. “And you’re a poetry expert?” “No, not really. But I know that one,” he said. If not oblivious to sarcasm, at least impervious to it. A useful trait, thought Armand. “How do you think it goes?” asked Reine-Marie. “‘They tuck you up, your mum and dad,’ ” said the young man, reeling it off easily. “‘They read you Peter Rabbit, too.’”

Louise’s Thoughts:
I wish I could say I made up Benedict’s alternative This Be The Verse by Philip Larkin, but I actually heard it from Robert Bathurst, who voices the audio tapes. We were having lunch in London and comparing favourite poems. I said how much I liked This Be The Verse, and he reeled off the ‘flip side’, written by Adrian Mitchell. I tucked it away, and a year or so later realized this would be a good time to use it. Not only is is hilarious, it illustrates a theme through the books. One of choice. Of what we hear and what we choose to believe. And, of course, it was fun having the ‘poetry-off’ between wizened embittered Ruth and milk fed Benedict – who seemed too good to be true.

From Pg. 166
Entitlement was, she knew, a terrible thing. It chained the person to their victimhood. It gobbled up all the air around it. Until the person lived in a vacuum, where nothing good could flourish.

Louise’s Thoughts:
Entitlement, it seems to me, is the opposite of gratitude. It blinds and deafens, and feeds into what we discussed earlier. That sense of victimhood and unfairness. To seeing only what is missing and not what is there. What has been denied and not what has been given. It leads to resentments, which eat a person from the inside out. As you can see, I am no great fan of entitlement. Though I make a distinction between entitlement (which implies a sort of manifest destiny) and having earned something. Worked for it. And are therefore entitled to it. Might sound like a fine distinction, but in my view a crucial one.

Postcards

The Annotated Three Pines: Glass Houses

Post author By Christopher Melvin
Post date August 13, 2019
26 Comments on The Annotated Three Pines: Glass Houses

From Pg. 7
The Crown made “remote” sound disagreeable, as though the further one got from a major city, the less civilized life became. Which might be true, thought Gamache. But he’d seen the results of so-called civilization and he knew that as many beasts lived in cities as in forests.

Louise’s Thoughts:
This was exactly our experience when Michael and I moved out of Montreal and into the ‘hinterlands’ south of Montreal. Honestly, you’d think we had to check our brains at the city limits. Many of our friends predicted we wouldn’t last a year. Twenty years later I’m still happily in the country, with more friends, more culture, more of a rich social life than we ever experienced in the city. Not that Montreal doesn’t have magnificent art and music. It does. But what people in cities might not realize is the richness of life in the country. And that the city, for all it has to offer, can be pretty damn grim. I wanted, in this passage, to cheer for the countryside and those who choose to live there.

From Pg. 13
And then there was his manner. While around him people partied, this figure stood absolutely still. Soon people stopped speaking to him. Asking about his costume. Trying to work out who it was. Before long, people stopped approaching him. And a space opened up around the dark figure. It was as though he occupied his own world. His own universe. Where there was no Halloween party. No revelers. No laughter. No friendship. “What did you think?” “I thought it was Death,” said Armand Gamache.

Louise’s Thoughts:
Now, this section was tricky. To create dread, without slipping into melodrama. But it also, if you remember, had another challenge and that was temporal. The time shifting that happens in these passages, where Gamache is both in Three Pines six months earlier, and in the courtroom, in the present. And to do it seamlessly. I didn’t want to fall into the easy formula of having one chapter past, next in the present. I wanted it to feel like it does in real life….where we often have our minds in both places. Standing in the present but reliving the past. Without a border. Slipping back and forth. Took me many drafts to get it right, or as right as I could get it. So the first few lines are in Three Pines, six months past. And the final exchange in the courtroom, in the height and heat of the summer. The other thing I really wanted to do in Glass Houses, something that hadn’t been done in all the previous books, was see Gamache in court. What happens after the arrest? What’s he like on the stand, under fierce examination?

From Pg. 18
We all have, she knew, a place where we’re not only most comfortable, but most competent. Hers was her bookstore. Olivier’s was the bistro. Clara’s was her studio. Sarah’s, the bakery. And Anton’s was the kitchen. But sometimes that comfort was an illusion. Masquerading as protecting, while actually imprisoning.

Louise’s Thoughts:
Ahhhh – how often have I wondered that about my life. Did you ever see The Matrix? It’s a great question…would you choose to stay in a comfortable, stable, but artificial existence – or take the pill and wake up to a dreadful reality? How often do we trade freedom for safety? Not risking. Not pushing and challenging, because then we might fail. But…we might not.

From Pg. 60
She had always been his wife. He’d known that the first moment he’d seen her. He knew her, that first moment. Through the ages. Through the lifetimes. Every other relationship might change, flow, morph into another guise, but his relationship with Reine-Marie was absolute and eternal. She was his wife. And he was her husband. Forever.

Louise’s Thoughts:
I must believe this, and do. With all my heart, though I don’t expect anyone else to. (Except Armand). That there are certain people we meet in our lives, in all our lifetimes. And while they might take different roles, it’s essentially the same people. But I wanted to illustrate here, especially for people unfamiliar with their relationship, the deep bond between Armand and Reine-Marie. The depth of love both are capable of.

From Pg. 143
“Conscience,” said the Chief Superintendent, looking at her and seeing her smile just a little. “Or maybe cowardice. Some think they’re the same thing. That the only thing that stops us from doing something awful is the fear of getting caught. What would we do, after all, if we were guaranteed not to get caught? If we knew there’d be no consequences. Or if we didn’t care. If we believed the act was justified. If we believed, as Gandhi did, that there’s a higher court than a court of justice.”

Louise’s Thoughts:
This thought originally came to me from Oscar Wilde (not personally, I wasn’t channeling him). He once famously said that conscience and cowardice are the same thing. But then Armand here takes it that next step, and connects it to Gandhi. That’s the uncomfortable ambivalence at the heart of this novel. Gamache is warning that Gandhi, famous for standing up, non-violently, to power, might actually be unleashing here all sorts of darkness. Granting moral immunity to people who can say, with all sincerity, that they were simply following their conscience. If it’s legitimate for my beliefs, why not for yours? When is it all right to break the law?

Postcards

The Annotated Three Pines: A Great Reckoning

Post author By Christopher Melvin
Post date August 6, 2019
30 Comments on The Annotated Three Pines: A Great Reckoning

From Pg. 26
Professor Leduc moved his left arm, so that his wrist felt the butt of the handgun through his jacket. As he did that, he lifted his right hand and shook Gamache’s. Holding the man’s hand and his eyes. Both of which were steady, and displayed neither anger nor challenge. It was, Leduc realized, far more threatening than any overt show of force could ever be.

Louise’s Thoughts:
I really liked taking Gamache out of his regular job and placing him in the Academy. Who better to clean it up than someone who is by nature a teacher? I was lucky to have a few teachers, and professors, as I bumbled my way through school, who were thoughtful and patient. Who saw the big picture, the whole person. I also had some bullies, and that was equally instructive.

From Pg. 53
The poetry book had joined the others hidden under there. Books in Latin and Greek. Poetry books and philosophy books. She’d taught herself the dead languages, and memorized poetry. Among the filth. Shutting out the sounds of sex, the mutterings and shouts and screams of other boarders. The flushing toilets and obscenities and stench. All erased by poetry.

Louise’s Thoughts:
We all, I think, have something we cling to when times get tough. Prayers. Songs. Mantras. For me it’s a combination of prayer and poetry. Both calming. Centering. I wanted to write Amelia as a soul who’d lost her bearings, but not her way. She’s still looking for the path. The way “home”. The books she loves, the works she loves, are a sort of compass. I also wanted her to be an autodidact. Someone who clings to beauty, who doesn’t give in to the despair all around her. And yet is cynical, self-destructive, angry, bitter. But who, when a hand is stretched out, takes it. Now this is a person to be reckoned with. As Gamache recognizes.

From Pg. 31
Gamache had laughed. “I wish it was a mountain. At least they’re majestic. Conquering them brings some sense of triumph. The Sûreté Academy is more like a great big hole filled with merde. And I’ve fallen into it.”
“Fallen, patron? As I remember it, you jumped.”

Louise’s Thoughts:
Ha…it was so fun writing Gamache in the Academy. Seeing him in academae. Surrounded by students. Not all of them well-adjusted. And needing to have a firm grip on the professors. Gamache thinks he knows what, as Beauvoir put it, he’s jumped into. But he actually has no idea. I’d like to say I knew exactly what he would do, how he’d handle it, when he found out. But the fact is, I didn’t. What I knew was the man’s character, but I wanted to just see…. by this point in the series, while I know the characters (actually I think of them as people, not characters), well, I can still be surprised. I wanted to see what would happen when the full horror of what he’d gotten himself into began to dawn on him. And when it did, what he would do about it. Merde does not begin to describe the tragedy that was the Surete breeding ground.

From Pg. 161
The village had lulled him, however briefly, into forgetting that terrible things happened. He wondered if it was a gift, to forget however briefly, or a curse.

Louise’s Thoughts:
Three Pines will always be a refuge, for Gamache. For all the villagers. Not from pain, as long as we’re human that is inevitable. And few are more human than Gamache. But it’s a refuge from despair. Because as bad as things get, the villagers know they’re not alone. That’s the key, isn’t it? Having a place of peace. A quiet place in the bright sunshine. However briefly. Before it’s back to the trenches of life. But they take Three Pines with them in their hearts. As do I. As do you.

From Pg. 40
Yes, a snowman, however jolly, must have worry in his heart. As did the work of art. Or map. Or whatever it was they’d found in the wall.
Love and worry. They went hand in hand. Fellow travelers.

Louise’s Thoughts:
I don’t know about you, but I worry about the people I love. All the time. It’s not front and centre, more like a hum in the background. Spiking now and then, and never completely off. The wages of love. The cost of caring. The map in the wall aches with that. With love and worry. The cheerful snowman on the map, who nevertheless knows the sun will come out. Spring will arrive. What Gabri and Olivier found in the wall of the bistro was a map home. So that whoever had it would know, there was a way back. To a place where they were safe. And where they could forget, however briefly, the horrors of the outside world.

LOUISE PENNY’S

CHIEF INSPECTOR GAMACHE SERIES

LOUISE PENNY’S

CHIEF INSPECTOR GAMACHE SERIES

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