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Madrid: Siruela, 2019; 220 p.; 21,7 cm (Nuevos Tiempos Policíaca; 439)
Description
Banon is a small, peaceful village in upper Provence, where the local community's principal source of income comes from the cultivation and sale of truffles. Tourists and outsiders rarely venture to this remote region, but a small group of society's drop-outs have chosen to set up home on the outskirts of the village, and trouble ensues. When one of them is found dead in the freezer of a local hotel, and when a further five bodies are discovered hanging by their feet and drained of blood in the family vault of the cemetery, it takes all Commissaire Laviolette's considerable resources to unravel crimes that have been committed in a climate of centuries-old superstition and secret animosity. Not since Jean Gioni has any writer been able to capture the authentic flavour, spirit and traditions of Provence, where Pierre Magnan has lived for over eighty years.… (more)
User reviews
LibraryThing member lizhawk
Charming (?) tale of murder in small town France evokes lovely scenes of Provencal and the not-so lovely things that happen. Hippies disappear so Commissaire Laviolette arrives to investigate. Lucky him! he stays in the Rosamond's hotel, enjoying her company and delectable meals. Meanwhile,
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violence stalks the town, the Uillaoude and ghosts flicker about, Rosalinde the pig does her best to reveal the killer, and, through it all, the Mistral blows and the pungent aroma of truffles fills the air. Show Less
LibraryThing member akfarrar
Crime Fiction tends to rely on the glutton rather than the epicure – the criminals always seem to want insatiably - wealth, power, wo/men; the detectives want more and more, almost with a ferociousness, the next clue; and the readers stuff themselves to bursting with the newest publication.
Death in the Truffle Wood is, unashamedly, Crime Fiction.
It does, however, nod in the direction of better cooking in that it titillates the appetite – usually with a dark humour. And there are a couple of good descriptions of the sort of food that gives the French the moral high ground over the English when it comes to ‘measuring’ cuisines.
Commissaire Laviolette, is the detective Poirot might have been if Agatha Crusty had been a French intellectual instead of English ‘madam’: He likes good food, he smokes roll-ups with the class only the intelligent seem to manage, he chases women whilst he’s chasing murderers and he is, according to his bosses, none-descript – he’s given the case of the disappearing hippies because no one will notice him.
He, like his author, Pierre Magnan, is Provencal – The Province – the one that gives its inhabitants the necessary passport to condescend to town dwellers everywhere, and puts the urbane in urban.
Laviolette understands the countryside and country people in a way streetwise Phillip Marlowes in their brick and tarmac jungles will never grasp. There is almost an organic telepathy, an osmosis of thought and feeling flowing between the detective and the community. Clues are a concentration of flavours and scents rather than solid facts … animals play a key role in searching out these essentials – just as Roseline, the truffle hunting pig, searches and earns her keep rooting for what is essentially a parasitic fungus sucking away at the roots of healthy oak trees.
Those truffles, however, feature strongly in both the cooking and the plot – and act as a metaphor for the whole genre – what, after all, is it we are searching for but the rotten feeding off the strong? What is the detective in fiction but a glorified truffle pig?
That is the kind of rhetorical question you end up asking as you read – and points to an element in this book which is missing in the average pot-boiler – intellectualism.
Now, I am of Anglo-Saxon stock, and, even though I’ve denied my father and changed … I haven’t gone so far as to feel comfortable with ‘intellectualism’. Intelligence I can cope with – as long as it does the occasional prat-fall and keeps itself suitably coy – but showy intellectualism is a bit ‘continental’.
All I can say is, “Here it works,” – it is an integral part of the book and gives a dimension to the read which is refreshing to the jaded palate. I am not convinced though that the majority of Morse (who is only intelligent, despite his opera playing) and Barnaby (who is decidedly English Bumbling) fans will take much pleasure from the story.
Of the characters that people the pages there is a real French tart – not the English sticky, sweet, ‘Queen of Hearts’, jam type, but a goat cheese, onion and truffle baked Banon original; a small, lost dachshund befriended by the pig; several braces of warring brothers; and a lightening struck old cow who terrifies all around her and gets the toughest of toughs to open doors, politely, for her. There is also mention but, infuriatingly. no development of a partnership between the local baker and the local priest.
I picked up the book as an intentional anti-dote to the heavy English cooking of ‘On Chesil Beach’ – and have to say, instead of a sorbet, I got something a little more substantial – but equally invigorating.
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Tabloid details are piled high on the table and quickly consumed.Death in the Truffle Wood is, unashamedly, Crime Fiction.
It does, however, nod in the direction of better cooking in that it titillates the appetite – usually with a dark humour. And there are a couple of good descriptions of the sort of food that gives the French the moral high ground over the English when it comes to ‘measuring’ cuisines.
Commissaire Laviolette, is the detective Poirot might have been if Agatha Crusty had been a French intellectual instead of English ‘madam’: He likes good food, he smokes roll-ups with the class only the intelligent seem to manage, he chases women whilst he’s chasing murderers and he is, according to his bosses, none-descript – he’s given the case of the disappearing hippies because no one will notice him.
He, like his author, Pierre Magnan, is Provencal – The Province – the one that gives its inhabitants the necessary passport to condescend to town dwellers everywhere, and puts the urbane in urban.
Laviolette understands the countryside and country people in a way streetwise Phillip Marlowes in their brick and tarmac jungles will never grasp. There is almost an organic telepathy, an osmosis of thought and feeling flowing between the detective and the community. Clues are a concentration of flavours and scents rather than solid facts … animals play a key role in searching out these essentials – just as Roseline, the truffle hunting pig, searches and earns her keep rooting for what is essentially a parasitic fungus sucking away at the roots of healthy oak trees.
Those truffles, however, feature strongly in both the cooking and the plot – and act as a metaphor for the whole genre – what, after all, is it we are searching for but the rotten feeding off the strong? What is the detective in fiction but a glorified truffle pig?
That is the kind of rhetorical question you end up asking as you read – and points to an element in this book which is missing in the average pot-boiler – intellectualism.
Now, I am of Anglo-Saxon stock, and, even though I’ve denied my father and changed … I haven’t gone so far as to feel comfortable with ‘intellectualism’. Intelligence I can cope with – as long as it does the occasional prat-fall and keeps itself suitably coy – but showy intellectualism is a bit ‘continental’.
All I can say is, “Here it works,” – it is an integral part of the book and gives a dimension to the read which is refreshing to the jaded palate. I am not convinced though that the majority of Morse (who is only intelligent, despite his opera playing) and Barnaby (who is decidedly English Bumbling) fans will take much pleasure from the story.
Of the characters that people the pages there is a real French tart – not the English sticky, sweet, ‘Queen of Hearts’, jam type, but a goat cheese, onion and truffle baked Banon original; a small, lost dachshund befriended by the pig; several braces of warring brothers; and a lightening struck old cow who terrifies all around her and gets the toughest of toughs to open doors, politely, for her. There is also mention but, infuriatingly. no development of a partnership between the local baker and the local priest.
I picked up the book as an intentional anti-dote to the heavy English cooking of ‘On Chesil Beach’ – and have to say, instead of a sorbet, I got something a little more substantial – but equally invigorating.
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LibraryThing member ccayne
This was a total surprise - quirky, funny and creepy. I loved the characters, especially the pig. The crimes that took place in this small village did require a suspension of belief but I was happy to oblige. I read this while rained in a remote area of the Adirondacks and it was a perfect vehicle
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for my escape. Show Less
LibraryThing member austcrimefiction
I used to read a few cosies, although I was never totally addicted. But I've always been a huge fan of the quirky, odd and the just ever so slightly bats. Colin Watson, Charlotte MacLeod have been favourites for years. I'm adding Pierre Magnan to the list now.
Originally published in French in the
On the outskirts of the small village of Banon, a group of outsiders have established a small hippie community. As they start to disappear Commissaire Laviolette is sent to investigate, but nobody is prepared for the discovery in the freezer of a local hotel, when a wedding party is trapped by snow and extra food is called for. (Obviously the freezer would just have to be replaced!)
Soon Roseline is leading the police to a cache of more bodies, and forensic assistance is reluctantly called upon.
It's going to seem an odd thing to say, what with bodies littering hotel freezers and family vaults, but there was something really joyous about reading DEATH IN THE TRUFFLE WOOD. Refreshingly down to earth, quirky, almost tongue in cheek in some places, and just plain funny, DEATH IN THE TRUFFLE WOOD draws a vivid picture of small village life and the wonderfully individualistic people that all so frequently inhabit those places. Perhaps it is partially because of that setting, but there's no feeling of the story and the environment being dated - it's easy for the reader to assume that village life continues in that manner now, and as far back into the past as you want to imagine. Along with the murders, there's a fabulous outline of the clash of cultures - the villagers and their quiet existence, the outsiders and the effect that they have. Definitely a book for readers who are looking for something light, fun and just that little bit slightly bats!
Originally published in French in the
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late 70's, DEATH IN THE TRUFFLE WOOD was translated into English around 2005. There are a number of books in this series featuring Commissaire Laviolette, although I don't think Roseline makes an appearance in any of the others. Roseline is a truffle hunting pig, and a creature that has made me pine for a pet pig in a way that you simply would not think is possible. Mind you, I never thought I'd want a dachshund either, but this book made me rethink that as well.On the outskirts of the small village of Banon, a group of outsiders have established a small hippie community. As they start to disappear Commissaire Laviolette is sent to investigate, but nobody is prepared for the discovery in the freezer of a local hotel, when a wedding party is trapped by snow and extra food is called for. (Obviously the freezer would just have to be replaced!)
Soon Roseline is leading the police to a cache of more bodies, and forensic assistance is reluctantly called upon.
It's going to seem an odd thing to say, what with bodies littering hotel freezers and family vaults, but there was something really joyous about reading DEATH IN THE TRUFFLE WOOD. Refreshingly down to earth, quirky, almost tongue in cheek in some places, and just plain funny, DEATH IN THE TRUFFLE WOOD draws a vivid picture of small village life and the wonderfully individualistic people that all so frequently inhabit those places. Perhaps it is partially because of that setting, but there's no feeling of the story and the environment being dated - it's easy for the reader to assume that village life continues in that manner now, and as far back into the past as you want to imagine. Along with the murders, there's a fabulous outline of the clash of cultures - the villagers and their quiet existence, the outsiders and the effect that they have. Definitely a book for readers who are looking for something light, fun and just that little bit slightly bats!
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LibraryThing member cathyskye
Five young people have disappeared in the vicinity of Banon in Provence. When Commissaire Laviolette comes to investigate, villager Alyre Morelon immediately demands that the police officer looks into a recent incident when someone tried to kill his Roseline, the best truffle-sniffing pig in the
Laviolette has been sent to Banon because there's nothing remarkable about his appearance and he can blend in anywhere. Well... that's what he tells people. What he's not telling anyone is that his unremarkable visage hides a very observant and intelligent man. When Laviolette obliges Morelon and looks into the incident concerning the pig, he stumbles across something that ties right into the missing persons case he is investigating.
Originally published in 1978, some of you young whippersnappers who read Death in the Truffle Wood may miss your computers and cell phones, but this old fogey found their absence refreshing. (It is nice to remember the "good old days" once in a while when detecting didn't seem to rely on gizmos.) Magnan's sense of pacing is sure, and his characterizations show flashes of brilliance. The various plot lines of injured pig, missing young people, heirs to fortunes and philandering spouses were woven together into an intriguing mystery.
As much as I enjoyed the mystery, it was Magnan's humor and his depiction of the culture of Provence and its people that really won me over. The "forensic lads from Criminal Records" who loved to race between Marseilles and Banon, the relationship between Roseline and her owner Alyre, the description of a local wedding and the behavior of the guests... these are only three instances that made me laugh and made me feel as though I was getting a feel for the real Provence.
Combine all that with a very ordinary-looking and extraordinarily observant policeman, and I find myself with a new and delightful mystery series to continue reading. C'est magnifique!
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entire area.Laviolette has been sent to Banon because there's nothing remarkable about his appearance and he can blend in anywhere. Well... that's what he tells people. What he's not telling anyone is that his unremarkable visage hides a very observant and intelligent man. When Laviolette obliges Morelon and looks into the incident concerning the pig, he stumbles across something that ties right into the missing persons case he is investigating.
Originally published in 1978, some of you young whippersnappers who read Death in the Truffle Wood may miss your computers and cell phones, but this old fogey found their absence refreshing. (It is nice to remember the "good old days" once in a while when detecting didn't seem to rely on gizmos.) Magnan's sense of pacing is sure, and his characterizations show flashes of brilliance. The various plot lines of injured pig, missing young people, heirs to fortunes and philandering spouses were woven together into an intriguing mystery.
As much as I enjoyed the mystery, it was Magnan's humor and his depiction of the culture of Provence and its people that really won me over. The "forensic lads from Criminal Records" who loved to race between Marseilles and Banon, the relationship between Roseline and her owner Alyre, the description of a local wedding and the behavior of the guests... these are only three instances that made me laugh and made me feel as though I was getting a feel for the real Provence.
Combine all that with a very ordinary-looking and extraordinarily observant policeman, and I find myself with a new and delightful mystery series to continue reading. C'est magnifique!
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LibraryThing member ten_floors_up
This is another characterful and highly readable treat from Pierre Magnan, first published in the latter half of the 1970s. It's a shame that only a handful of his books have been been translated into English: I only have a couple more of those translations left to read and could gladly read more.
I wanted to borrow my local library's copy - only to find it had gone walkabout. Fittingly, in view of the quirkiness of this tale, s copy turned up unexpectedly in a nearby charity shop (though not the fugitive library copy, I hasten to add).
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This English-language version appeared 27 years after the French original. My French dictionaries may possibly see some intensive use in the future in connection with Magnan's books, though I fear I'd only be skimming the surface.I wanted to borrow my local library's copy - only to find it had gone walkabout. Fittingly, in view of the quirkiness of this tale, s copy turned up unexpectedly in a nearby charity shop (though not the fugitive library copy, I hasten to add).
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LibraryThing member birdsofparadise
A fun, light read shot through with an eccentric vein of dark humour. Magnan has a real talent for creating atmosphere - the descriptions of a moonlit woodland by night at the beginning of the book couldn't be more spookily evocative.
Perfect reading for Autumn!
Perfect reading for Autumn!
LibraryThing member lucybrown
Death in the Truffle Wood is a great little mystery, more old school than not. The premise is that deep in the heart of truffle hunters' Provence hippies last known to be at at a nearby commune keep disappearing. The unassuming Commissarie Laviolette is sent to lay low and see what he can see.
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Laviolette is a charming creation, a tough guy of tender susceptibilities. He has a bit of a wicked streak to his humor as well. The Commissaire also has a disarming love for stray dogs. Who couldn't love this man. However, the book has several quirky aspects that make it a four star rather than five star mystery. The most significant of these is that there were a couple aspects that strained my ability to suspend my disbelief or patience or both. These all involve the pig. I was singularly unconcerned about who was committing the murders, though I was interested in finding out how a particular murderer will be caught. Nearly all of the body of suspects are left undeveloped as individuals and treated as a homogeneous mass of stone- faced, tight-lipped peasants. Herein lies another problem but for what reason I cannot say without giving a bit away. As a group they are humorously and sharply described. Often the narrative seems disjointed, with nameless characters with seemingly irrelevant story lines plunked in out of the blue. I did not see this as a defect although it required patience. Almost highly recommended. Ah, what the hell...highly recommended. Show Less
LibraryThing member lucybrown
Death in the Truffle Wood is a great little mystery, more old school than not. The premise is that deep in the heart of truffle hunters' Provence hippies last known to be at at a nearby commune keep disappearing. The unassuming Commissarie Laviolette is sent to lay low and see what he can see.
Show More
Laviolette is a charming creation, a tough guy of tender susceptibilities. He has a bit of a wicked streak to his humor as well. The Commissaire also has a disarming love for stray dogs. Who couldn't love this man. However, the book has several quirky aspects that make it a four star rather than five star mystery. The most significant of these is that there were a couple aspects that strained my ability to suspend my disbelief or patience or both. These all involve the pig. I was singularly unconcerned about who was committing the murders, though I was interested in finding out how a particular murderer will be caught. Nearly all of the body of suspects are left undeveloped as individuals and treated as a homogeneous mass of stone- faced, tight-lipped peasants. Herein lies another problem but for what reason I cannot say without giving a bit away. As a group they are humorously and sharply described. Often the narrative seems disjointed, with nameless characters with seemingly irrelevant story lines plunked in out of the blue. I did not see this as a defect although it required patience. Almost highly recommended. Ah, what the hell...highly recommended. Show Less
LibraryThing member lucybrown
Death in the Truffle Wood is a great little mystery, more old school than not. The premise is that deep in the heart of truffle hunters' Provence hippies last known to be at at a nearby commune keep disappearing. The unassuming Commissarie Laviolette is sent to lay low and see what he can see.
Show More
Laviolette is a charming creation, a tough guy of tender susceptibilities. He has a bit of a wicked streak to his humor as well. The Commissaire also has a disarming love for stray dogs. Who couldn't love this man. However, the book has several quirky aspects that make it a four star rather than five star mystery. The most significant of these is that there were a couple aspects that strained my ability to suspend my disbelief or patience or both. These all involve the pig. I was singularly unconcerned about who was committing the murders, though I was interested in finding out how a particular murderer will be caught. Nearly all of the body of suspects are left undeveloped as individuals and treated as a homogeneous mass of stone- faced, tight-lipped peasants. Herein lies another problem but for what reason I cannot say without giving a bit away. As a group they are humorously and sharply described. Often the narrative seems disjointed, with nameless characters with seemingly irrelevant story lines plunked in out of the blue. I did not see this as a defect although it required patience. Almost highly recommended. Ah, what the hell...highly recommended. Show Less
LibraryThing member ParadisePorch
(Fiction, Mystery, Translated)
This is the first book in the Commissaire Laviolette series, first published in French in 1973 but only recently translated into English.
This first adventure brings the Commissaire to 1960s rural Provence to investigate the disappearance of five people, within a
3½ stars
This is the first book in the Commissaire Laviolette series, first published in French in 1973 but only recently translated into English.
This first adventure brings the Commissaire to 1960s rural Provence to investigate the disappearance of five people, within a
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climate of centuries-old superstition and secret and animosity, and gets him involved in the local politics and disputes. 3½ stars
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Awards
Martin Beck Award (Winner — 1983)
Language
Original language
French
Original publication date
1978
Physical description
220 p.; 21 cm
ISBN
9788417860974