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Montalbano's latest case begins with a mysterious tete a tete with a Mafioso, some inexplicably abandoned loot from a supermarket heist, and some dying words that lead him to an illegal arms cache in a mountain cave. There the inspector finds two young lovers, dead for fifty years and still embracing, watched over by a life-sized terra-cotta dog. Montalbano's passion to solve this old crime takes him on a journey through Sicily's past and into a family's dark heart amidst the horrors of World War II bombardment. Andrea Camilleri's Inspector Montalbano has garnered millions of fans worldwide with his sardonic take on Sicilian life. With sly wit and a keen understanding of human nature, Montalbano is a detective whose earthiness, compassion, and imagination make him totally irresistible.… (more)
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The mystery, that is the modern-day mystery of arms-dealing and law-breaking, gets short shrift in this delightful book. It gets passed to Montalbano's second-in-command, Augello,
Things Go Badly. In fact, a character I loved very much pays the ultimate price for Augello's jealous fit. But Montalbano, whose head everything ultimately falls on, has already turned his attention to Livia, his quite extraordinary lover from Genoa, and a mystery from WWII.
One guess which of those two gets neglected.
The point of these books is how much a mystery gets hold of one, how deeply set the hook is when it's properly baited for the mysterian. (Other than the name of a one-hit wonder band, I've never actually used that word before, and "I do not think that word means what you think it means." {Princess Bride reference}) Sure, yeah, people are smuggling submachine guns and stuff, mmm-hmmm get back to me if something needs my attention but some a-hole killed two kids in the Act of Luuuv 50+ years ago, then put them in a cave where evidence assures us they were NOT shot, and with some very odd burial goods...a bowl of money, a jug of water, and a terra-cotta statue of a dog...and then sealed them up carefully and invisibly. WTF? as Montalbano most certainly wouldn't have thought, who does that? What kind of story makes that not only okay, but so urgent as to force someone to do it?
Exactly what I was wondering. Montalbano is my kinda guy. There are people to *do* the modern-day, not-very-challenging stuff, and even when they get stuff wrong (as they did, to his almost-fatal detriment when a shoot-out costs him the life of a friend and a month in the hospital) things will turn out, they always do...just learn to live with the consequences...but only he, Montalbano, cares to or can ferret out the seemingly unimportant but emotionally charged secrets of the past.
I was walloped upside my little punkin haid by the ending of this book. I could NOT believe an American publishing house would do this! Of course, they only did it ten years after it became a bestseller in *the rest of the world*, but let's let that slide. They did it, thank you Viking, and they made a lovely object of the book, and they have published all of the series in proper order *smoochsmooch* on their corporate ham-producing-areas to boot!
I won't encourage anyone to read these books because, if you need encouragement, you're not the Right Stuff for them. (*snicker* THAT oughtta cause a stampede!)
Montalbano is a very literate police inspector, and throughout the book there are references to his reading. He likes the Spanish mystery writer Vazquez Montalbán, whose name is the Spanish version of his own and whose mysteries, like Camilleri’s, also have many references to food and its preparation. But Montalbano also reads Faulkner and quotes Shakespeare as well as other dramatists, perhaps because Camilleri taught for many years at a school of drama.
Montalbano, though he is companionable enough in other respects, likes to eat alone. His housekeeper leaves him dishes in the icebox or in the oven: poached baby octopus, the casserole called pasta ‘ncasciata, anchovies baked in lemon juice, spaghetti with sardines, and other Sicilian treats.
Montalbano and his associates are always worried about moles in their organization—mafia spies—and in fact there is a kind of cold war between the police and the mafiosi. The factual basis of this struggle becomes apparent before one has even deplaned at the airport outside Palermo, which has been renamed Falcone-Borsellino Airport after the two judges murdered in 1992 for their anti-mafia activities. Mostly the violence happens within the mafia, and there is a chilling indifference born of use with which the police regard the killings of one mafioso by another.
The plot is complex and begins with a well-known mafioso giving himself up to Montalbano. He wants the police inspector to stage the surrender as a surprise arrest. The man’s associates are not fooled and they kill him, but before he dies, the mafioso gives Montalbano information about a large gun-smuggling operation. Montalbano finds the cache of weapons, but nearby discovers a young couple, murdered fifty years earlier, just before the Americans entered Italy in 1943. The fifty-year-old crime begins to consume Montalbano’s thoughts; he becomes obsessed with it in the way Friedrich Dürrenmatt’s inspector is obsessed with the murder of a little girl in The Pledge, a book that Montalbano thinks of in connection with his own obsession. Unlike Dürrenmatt’s character though, Montalbano solves this one. I think you might like it, but you might have to go to Sicily to get the full effect.
An arranged “capture” of a local Mafioso which leads to a weapons cache in a cave, the bizarre nonrobbery of a store in Vigáta, the death of a stubborn old Fascist, Mafia-style executions, and the subsequent discovery of the bodies—in a sealed-up
That’s the context of the second, excellent installment in the series. Montalbano is unique in the genre—a temperamental Sicilian who drives his subordinates crazy with his mood shifts that depend on the weather. He’s intelligent, compassionate, jealous, intuitive, self-serving—and to top it all off, a gourmand of Sicilian cuisine. Hard to top.
By his own account, Camilleri got the idea for the story from working with two young Egyptian student stage directors on an Arabic play, The people of the Cave. Camilleri has taught at the national Academy of Dramatic arts in Italy for well over 20 years; not only does this show up in the idea for this story, but it affects the way her writes as well. Once you realize this aspect of his professional career, you begin to appreciate the way he sets his scenes in his books. They are all quite precisely laid out with an eye as to how they’ll play. True to the playwright’s ideal, Camilleri sprinkles many of his scenes with humor, both through dialogue and through his characters’ actions.
What I particularly like is Camilleri’s characterizations. Yes, he has a stable of permanent characters, both in the police force in Vigáta and in his private life, but the once-on characters are memorable as well. I think he does a brilliant job with all of them. His handling of Montalbano’s relationship with his long-time lover, Livia, is nothing short of hilarious—and entirely believable.
The books are all relatively short, read quite fast, and are thoroughly enjoyable on all levels.
Highly recommended.
The Terracotta Dog has many attractive ingredients. Overtly, the plot concerns a mafioso's willing entrapment by Commissario Montalbano. But things don't turn out as expected, putting Montalbano's life in danger. Along with the Mafia thread, we have the discovery of dead bodies concealed in a hidden cave, a mystery which, though dateable to the closing stages of the Second World War, seems to have echoes of a pagan past usually confined to archaeology. We mustn't forget Salvo's long-running relationship with the long-suffering Livia (whom he seems to have great difficulty committing to), and his dealings with his police associates (particularly Catarella, who somehow combines imbecility with an endearing charm).
Camilleri's writing, modulated through Stephen Sartarelli’s comfortable translation (with Sartarelli’s own helpful end-notes to set the scene), comes across as sensitive, humorous and literary, all at the same time. From the point of view of a northern European, the Sicilian setting is both exotic and understated: we get the feel of the place but without the touristy excrescences, and Camilleri’s love of his native soil is evident throughout, even when the less pleasant aspects of the local population make their inevitable presence felt. Above all, you feel he likes people, and with hardly any of the characters appearing as pure plot mechanisms you sense that the Sicilians you meet in the pages are essentially reflections of Camilleri’s acquaintances, and their stories the histories of real-life people.
This, the second of the series, was a joy to read. Not your conventional detective (nor detective novel), Montalbano is a very human crime-solver whom it is easy to empathise with, whether he is dealing with press conferences or superiors, or when interviewing wayward witnesses or fellow travellers along the rocky road to truth. The classic outsider, Montalbano’s maverick approach to the puzzles he is confronted with is compounded of a hint of the lone cowboy of Westerns, a pinch of literary dilettantism and a soupçon of culinary appreciation. It’s wonderful to know that there are so many other titles still to discover and explore.
In this story, Mantalbano solves the mystery of a stolen truck discovered loaded with groceries by discovering a cache of stolen weapons and stumbling onto the remains of a 50-year old murder that no one even knew about. It is this old murder mystery which captures his imagination and compels him to search for both the identies of the 2 bodies and their killer. Discovering the identity of the life-sized terra cotta dog which guarded the remains was the easy part.
Salvo Montalbano reminds me (in some bizarre twist of the mind, I'm sure) of MC Beaton's Hamish Macbeth. Both are humble, avoiding the spotlight, and promotion, whenever possible. Both have an understanding and acceptance of human nature and the ability to see through attempts to confuse and misdirect them. I find Montalbano to be more interesting and complex than Macbeth, and so far, Camilleri's books seem less formulaic than Beaton's - although maybe I just haven't read enough of them yet.
This book was delightful, and I am looking forward to the next in the series.
As he recuperates with the attentions of his girlfriend, not quite mistress and female best friend, he spends his time interviewing anybody who'd have known the town at the time of the 2nd world war. This obviously is select group of older people with various quirks and personalities.
Not very sure where this was going, little in the way of crime or police work seems to happen, but it did expand a bit on Salzu's personality and set up the various people whom he's going to be interacting with in the next books (until they too get killed off or maybe just move away).
The book starts off with a well known mafia boss who decides to call it a day and turns himself in to Montalbano (who agrees to stage his arrest to make the retirement respectable). The mafia boss has information that helps the police solve a theft case involving a supermarket delivery truck, and leads them to a cave used by the mafia as an arms stash.
So far, a typical mafia crime story. But Montalbano notices the cave has a sealed secret passage that leads to a second, smaller cave. In the inner cave he he finds the bodies of a young couple, together with a statue of a terracotta dog, a bowl of water and some coins dating back to the second world war. The bodies and the objects are arranged in what appears to be a ritualistic burial setting.
This finding intrigues Montalbano, even though it is clear, fifty years since the crime was perpetrated, that whoever killed the young lovers is long dead, or at least very old. He embarks on a journey to discover why they were killed and placed in the cave. This journey is the real heart of this book, and makes the inspector learn about old traditions and buried secrets.
Reading Camilleri is not easy, given that many of the dialogues are in Sicilian dialect. Here is an example of a short exchange between Montalbano and his housemaid Adelina, who is worried about his eating habits and hygiene (p. 362):
“Vossia non mangiò ne aieri a mezzujorno né aieri sira!”
“Non avevo pititto, Adelì”
“Io m’ammazzo di travaglio a fàrricci cose ‘nguliate e vossia le sdegna!”
“Non le sdegno, ma te l’ho detto: mi faglia il pititto”
“E po’ chista casa diventò un purcile! Vossia ‘un voli ca lavo ‘n terra, ‘un voli ca lavo I robbi! Havi cinco jorna ca si teno la stissa cammisa e li stessi mutanni! Vossia feti!”
So aside from the many words I either need to look up, or guess from the context, there is also this continuous guesswork about the Italian equivalent of the Sicilian slang. Some are easy (aieri = ieri; sira = serra), but others are not so self-evident (took me a second to realise mutanni were mutande). And yet, discovering this special dialect through the machinations of Montalbano adds to the pleasure of reading.
In the middle of his clandestine plans, Inspector Montalbano finds himself dealing with a supermarket robbery that the supermarket owner takes pains to insist was not a robbery but only a prank. But what prank ends with men being killed after they speak with the Inspector? Is there a bigger act being played out where the risks are higher and men are willing to murder to keep the scheme from being discovered?
And why are there 2 bodies, naked and curled around each other, with a terra-cotta dog guarding over them, a jug and a bowl of old coins next to them, placed in a old cave, hidden behind another cave where our good Inspector discovers weapons?
Seemingly unrelated, it takes a few swims in the ocean, lots of food and our Inspector getting shot and proclaimed a hero, before he is able to piece it all together. All the while fighting desperately not to be promoted. You cannot help but enjoy this Sicilian romp.
I love the way Montalbano loves his food & his walks on
The French version is awkward, as the translator has made an effort to give a feeling of some of the Sicilian vernacular which Camilleri's Italian readers have come to love and expect, but which makes for strange sentence structure and convoluted reading. I will try the English version for the next novel in series to see if it makes for more comfortable reading.
This book revealed a new aspect of Montalbano's character. He's a reader, and the books he's currently reading, other books he's read, bookstores, and libraries all work their way into the story. In that respect, he reminds me of P.D. James's Adam Dalgliesh and Louise Penny's Armand Gamache.
Although this series is a little coarser than the types of mysteries I usually read, it's one I'm sure I'll return to periodically when I'm in the mood for something a little outside of my comfort zone.
This second book in the series continues to bring Sicily to life. The atmosphere is created by vivid descriptions of the scenery, the lively population, the politics and strong mafia influence and, above all by the smell and tastes of the food. Montalbano himself reveals a little more of his sardonic and slightly sly personality and all of this combines to make these book such great fun and great reads.
The translation captures the rhythm and cadence of Sicily, the author gives us well drawn, spirited characters and great dialogue. The best part, for me, is that this is only book number two, leaving me a long list of Montalbano mysteries to discover.
Terra Cotta Dog is a Sicilian detective story. Attitude and atmosphere predominate, without the specifics of
I am not sure I want to visit Sicily after the book, except for the food--the book creates a running menu that would come in handy.
Montalbano seems human, at first, when on the trail of some Mafioso, but then reveals himself as such an arrogant ass that you want to kick him a time or two, not read him. He is not a compassionate northerner like Brunetti.
The mafia always wins of, course. But Montalbano has his moments. Crime to him is a puzzle for his pleasure to play with. Justice, apparently, does not apply in that part of the world. Maybe nowhere anymore, come to think of it. See what reading this book has done to me. Be careful.