The Paper Moon

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 show more 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.

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Amici di carta

Eh sì... oramai piazzo qua e là parole e slang "Camilleriano" con la naturalezza camaleontica tipica dei meridionali. Perchè non è una posa, uno "sfoggio". Io davvero mi immedesimo in quelle parole, neologismi o meno, tanto musicali e diretti. Salvù è quello che mi dà il buongiorno mentre faccio colazione, prima di andare al lavoro, che mi ci accompagna mentre viaggio in metropolitana, che mi dà la buonanotte la sera con quelle poche righe che riesco a leggere prima di crollare per la stanchezza della giornata. Quando lavoro al computer e devo immettere una qualsiasi password penso a Catarella, alle sue battaglie nel cercare "le guardie ai passi", e mi viene da sorridere. I libri di Camilleri sono gialli perchè show more c'è quasi sempre un omicidio, ma io non li definirei così. Sono qualcosa di più. Il "di più" è qualcosa che ognuno di noi scova dentro di sè. show less

First Line: The alarm rang, as it had done every morning for the past year, at seven-thirty.

The moody Inspector Salvo Montalbano has been plagued by the sense of his own mortality of late. He's trying to dodge all those morbid questions floating around in his mind-- without much success-- so what he needs is a good murder to take his mind off death. This he gets when the body of a man-- shot in the face at point-blank range-- with his pants down around his ankles is found.

Montalbano soon has more than enough to occupy his mind with the victim's beautiful sister, the victim's beautiful girlfriend, cocaine, blackmail letters, and mysterious computer codes all complicating the investigation. Not to fear, though-- allow Montalbano to show more cogitate while digesting an excellent meal, and the killer will soon be in jail.

Although the first book in the series was rather shaky for me, I am so glad that I continued because this is now one of my absolute favorite series. Montalbano and his team of officers are all gems, and Stephen Sartarelli does a perfect job of translating colloquial dialogue. (By the way, my husband is another huge fan of this series.) How Sartarelli manages to imply regional Sicilian speech and yet keep the meaning completely clear for English speakers is beyond me. The man is a master!

The mystery isn't all that difficult to solve, but that's not the point. The point is being able to watch grumpy Inspector Montalbano distracted by two pretty girls. You know that, sooner or later, the pheromones are going to lose their effect, and the wily Sicilian policeman is going to figure everything out. The joy is in watching him do it. show less

Forse il Montalbano migliore dal punto di vista della costruzione psicologica dei personaggi. Il commissario qui pare sprofondato in un film di Almodovar, circondato da donne protagoniste della loro vita e a volte anche di quella degli altri, caratteri forti, seduttive, con la piena coscienza del loro potere. La figura di Michela Pardo ha tutte le caratteristiche per calcare il palcoscenico della tragedia classica, mentre il suo contraltare, Elena, è una figura dei giorni nostri, in cui amore e interesse si miscelano con disinvoltura. Un gran bel libro.

The continuing adventures of Inspector Salvo Montalbano, who is beginning to wonder if he's "getting too old for this", as he commits a couple of what he considers to be very foolish mistakes in investigating the peculiar shooting death of a pharmaceutical representative in a private roof-top sanctuary. There are a couple of disarming, disturbing women involved, which adds to Montalbano's discomfort. This is not the strongest entry in the series. I thought the plot line of this one was stretched a bit thin; as I was fairly sure I had the culprit and the motive pegged early on,I got impatient to be done with it, and getting to the solution wasn't quite as much fun as it often is, although there were a few laughs along the way. As has show more happened before with Montalbano, the perpetrator of the crime does not come to justice in any official sense, but the books are cleared and everyone is satisfied. Almost no food in this one, though, I'm sad to say. show less

Sit down to a three-course meal of comfort food, ideally suited to the chilly weather, accompanied by a quirky Italian aperitif: three chart toppers and a Sicilian mystery make a perfect winter feast.

Paper Moon is Andrea Camilleri’s ninth Inspector Salvo Montalbano mystery, set in the fictitious Sicilian town of Vigata, and engagingly translated by the poet Stephen Sartarelli.

Like American police inspectors of ‘a certain age’, Montalbano is starting to doubt himself – but shows no sign of wanting to suck on a gun, a bottle or a cigarette.

A murdered man, dead politicians, dirty drugs, lovely women – Salvo rises to the challenge. Instead of being mired in the mafia, as befits its location, the plot is personality-driven and show more unpredictable. Different – but definitely rewarding. show less

No. 9 in the Inspector Montalbani series.

Until this installment, Camilleri’s series was—and remains—unique in that its single most outstanding characteristic is a gusto for life. The protagonist, Sicilian Inspector Salvo Montalbano, is moody, as changeable as the weather—passionate, highly moral in his work, a cowardly liar when he feels it necessary in his relationship with his lover Livia, a gourmand and glutton, compassionate jealous, intuitive, sarcastic, protective of his police officers, stubborn, well-read—the list goes on and on. He seems to be larger than life and yet totally believable.

Camilleri takes the same approach with his wonderful cast of recurring characters, although on a more minor scale: Fazio, the show more sergeant, Mimí Augello, Montalbano’s second-in-command, Catarella the foolish, bumbling officer who has his own take on the Italian language and police procedure, Dr. Pasquano the coroner, Livia, Adelina his housekeeper, Nicoló Zito the Communist TV announcer, and many, many others. Vigáta, Montalbano’s headquarters, positively comes alive, as does the Sicilian landscape in general. Throughout the books are running commentaries from Montalbano’s (liberal) point of view on current-day Italian politics. The books vibrate with life and energy.

As well as the recurring characters, the once-off ones are also handled brilliantly.

And the books have been hysterically funny. Camilleri taught stage direction for over 20 years, and it shows, both in the way he sets his scenes and the way he uses comedy. I have read the books in this series at least 3 times, some of them more often, and it makes no difference—I have laughed so hard in my recent rereading, for instance, of Rounding the Mark, that I could barely breathe. His touch just borders on slapstick but does not fall over the line—it’s far more Shakespearean and extremely effective.

To top it all off, the plotting is excellent; for the most part, the stories are engrossing.

Therefore it was a shock to my system when I read The Paper Moon.

The humor is gone. We’re left with Montalbano’s sarcasm with not a shred of his sense of the ridiculous to balance it off. Catarella becomes a computer-obsessed maniac instead of a Shakespearean fool. Food, an important minor part of the series (treated in such a way that you want to move to Sicily immediately), is barely mentioned. Recurring characters, such as Mimí Augello and Fazio are much reduced in presence; Mimí, a new father, is made out to be a nitwit. Livia appears only in brief phone conversations.

Everything, in other words, is subdued, especially Montalbano himself. Instead, the book centers yes, on the plot, which is one of his best, but also on Montalbano’s angst about aging and to a lesser extent, death. While this does not interfere with the story—indeed, it is a crucial part of it—there is almost nothing left of the old Montalbano except his irritation and sarcasm.

Two things save this book: the plot and the handling of the two women who, with Montalbano himself, are the center of attention.

The story begins with the report of a missing person by his sister; the brother turns to have been murdered under embarrassing circumstances. The major suspect is his mistress. Both women are drawn beautifully and powerfully. Other, drug-related deaths, some of them powerful political figures, add to the mix and the pressures on Montalbano to solve the crime become nearly unbearable.

This is the matrix for Montalbano’s introspection over his aging and his inner questioning of whether he himself is really capable of carrying on effectively in his job.

Overall, it feels as if Camilleri is getting tired of this series and is preparing the way out for Montalbano.

A good story, but not up to his usual spectacularly high standard. show less