Ponder: Still Life

Still Life by Louise Penny ©2005 is the first book in a series of murder mysteries featuring Chief Inspector Armand Gamache of the Surêté du Quebec. Normally murder mysteries are not my favorite book genre but I enjoyed Still Life much more than I anticipated. The plot line was engaging; a murder existed, of course, but it was not gruesome. Description of the corpse contained enough detail for purposes of investigation but did not wallow in grisly minutia for the sake of shock value. The dead body was quite tidy actually. A concise overview of the storyline from Amazon reads

Chief Inspector Armand Gamache of the Surêté du Québec and his team of investigators are called in to the scene of a suspicious death in a rural village south of Montreal. Jane Neal, a local fixture in the tiny hamlet of Three Pines, just north of the U.S. border, has been found dead in the woods. The locals are certain it's a tragic hunting accident and nothing more, but Gamache smells something foul in these remote woods.

What I enjoyed most from this book was the character of the chief investigator, Armand Gamache, who was competent, experienced, psychologically savvy, and observant but above all kind and stern and strong at turns when each demeanor was required. In training new agents, Chief Inspector Gamache  tells them the four sayings that can lead to wisdom – four sentences his own mentor taught him. They are: "I was wrong, I'm sorry, I don't know, I need help". The crime takes place in Montreal and I gained more insight about the culture there. Having recently visited Montreal in October of 2016 as a tourist (hmm... on second thought maybe that is not so "recent") I was oblivious to some subtleties of the spoken language there and the book enlightened me. In Canada, being by law a bilingual nation, there is, in Montreal, an undercurrent of resentment between the francophones and anglophones. Apparently bilingualism is not the panacea of compromise I was led to believe. I learned that a surêté means the criminal investigation department of the French government. Quebec's interference in Montreal's local affairs was not welcomed with open arms. Although these of patches friction peeked through, they were not overall influences on the general ambience of the setting, but did give it dimension. Little dabs of local humor were injected throughout. One example is the village being described as crime free, where neighbor trusts neighbor, and the only time folks lock their door is during the peak of harvest season to prevent unwanted baskets of over abundant zucchini being dropped inside their home. The website GrowaGoodLife.com accompanies the following photo with the phrase.

Ah zucchini… It’s the crop that just keeps on giving.

The small village of Three Pines is an artist community and I absorbed some information about painting, art judging, and shows. I also became aware of the double entendre of Still Life, the title of the book. We typically think of still life as "a painting or drawing of an arrangement of objects, typically including fruit and flowers and objects contrasting with these in texture, such as bowls and glassware". In Chapter Seven, Myrna, a former psychologist, gives a different interpretation. She states her observation that a minority of her clients got better quickly because they worked at it, wanted to change. They were not her patients for long.

"The others said they wanted to get better, but I think, and this isn't popular in psychology circles," – here she leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially – "I think many people love their problems. Gives them all sorts of excuses for not growing up and getting on with life." Myrna leaned back in her chair and took a long breath. "Life is change. If you are not growing and evolving you're standing still, the the rest of the world is surging ahead. Most of these people are very immature. They lead 'still lives', waiting".

I think the previous passage is also a cleverly-worded and discretely-placed clue as to "whodunnit". I struggled a bit in the early chapters because so many characters were introduce among the villagers and I felt my own paranoid need to commit each and every one to memory. I had to, right? Otherwise how could I meet the challenge of solving the mystery and discerning the killer before the novel revealed who it was? But the characters' personalities came out as I continued to read, and my initial concern lapsed into a comfortable knowledge and recognition of each, including their quirks, strengths, and weaknesses. The plot held together, the clues were solid and doled out at a reasonable pace, and the ending was satisfying. Still Life: A Three Pines Mystery was a 2013 made-for-TV movie based on the book. It has an IMDB rating of 5.4 out of ten, not stellar; but I am still curious enough to seek it out and watch it. The list of awards for Still Life the novel is long and impressive. 

• New Blood Dagger (annual award given by the British Crime Writers' Association (CWA) for first books by previously unpublished writers)
• Arthur Ellis (an annual award from the Crime Writers of Canada that recognizes excellence in Canadian crime writing)
• Barry (a crime literary prize awarded annually since 1997 by the editors of Deadly Pleasures, an American quarterly publication for crime fiction readers. )
• Anthony (literary award for mystery writers presented at the Bouchercon World Mystery Convention since 1986)
• Dilys (presented every year from 1992 to 2014 by the Independent Mystery Booksellers Association. It was given to the mystery title of the year which the member booksellers have most enjoyed selling)

For a good sample of the author's style, the entire first chapter of Still Life is on Louise Penny's website. Still Life was close to 300 pages long with fourteen chapters. Since I tend to use a chapter end as a natural breaking point, reading seemed a long time between breaks. My paperback version was printed in what I think must have been 9 or 10 point font. It took me a while to get through the book. I give Still Life 4 stars in my rating system with translates to Really good; maybe only one weak aspect or limited audience. I liked this author's style. I have requested her second novel from the library and am on a wait list. Louise Penny so far has published fifteen Chief Inspector Armand Gamache murder mysteries. The order of the Gamache books, from first to most recent, is as follows:

1) Still Life ©2005, 2) A Fatal Grace/Dead Cold (same book, different title), 3) The Cruelest Month, 4) A Rule Against Murder/The Murder Stone (same book, different title), 5) The Brutal Telling, 6) Bury Your Dead, 7) A Trick of the Light, 8) The Beautiful Mystery, 9) How the Light Gets In, 10) The Long Way Home, 11) The Nature of the Beast, 12) A Great Reckoning, 13) Glass Houses, 14) Kingdom of the Blind, 15) A Better Man ©2019.

I will not be whizzing through her list of fifteen anytime soon but it is comforting to find an internationally best selling author whose works I can intersperse with my other "Books to Read" choices.

Montreal: the Homestretch

Friday, October 14th
Friday was to be our last full day in Montreal before traveling home so we were going to take it easy, get a late start, and not spend too much time away from home base. The first mundane task of the day though was that John was going to drive me to a local Walmart to get cough syrup for Frank who was fighting an uphill battle against whatever bug he had. John and I stepped outside the front door, mildly surprised to see the windshield of his car frosted over.

Since he and Sue had driven up from the Boston area, I figured their car must be equipped with snow removal tools, and asked for one. John got out a scraper and was beginning to clear the ⅛" layer of frost. I said, " You must be pretty good at this. You probably do it every day in those Boston winters". John quipped back "Nah, I park the car in the garage".

I asked for a second tool and said cheerily, "Let me help. I don't mind." Then I added, just a tad smugly, "I rarely get the opportunity in California." Once the windshield was defrosted, John was still gracious enough to shuttle me to the drug store.

I got the cough syrup for Frank and we returned. We entered the northeast-facing front door of the house, passing the mudroom area on our right. Our collection of shoes was evidence we had gotten quite comfortable there.

Also in the mudroom immediately to our right, was our array of jackets and over-shirts, hung neatly, awaiting our next excursion. For Frank and me that would be when we left for the airport the next day. John & Sue and Joe & Margaret would make one more trip, without us, to visit a canal museum

Immediately to the left upon entry was a glass enclosed staircase, supporting the open concept philosophy of renovations these days that tries to knock down all barriers to the passage of light. Watch any design show. This staircase was quite unique though. It took each of us a couple days to remember where to enter to go which direction. I fought the instinctive reflex to stop abruptly each time I walked past that square hole in the floor ahead of me. The staircase also had no railings. I was glad I was not going to be the one cleaning all those handprints off the glass walls from folks climbing up and down those steps using the glass panels for security and balance. On the other hand, it is probably safest to keep the glass dirty and smudged.

Straight ahead, the view upon entering the home was a spacious kitchen in the west corner with an open concept layout. See those two highly styled modern faucets at the main sink and the sink in the island? Each of us experienced a lingering learning curve regarding the idiosyncrasies of those faucets. Mainly by trial and error, we gradually decreased the frequency with which we drenched the counters and dampened our clothes. We repeatedly learned our lesson the wet way. Our spirits, though, were not dampened. Each error evoked a startled reaction followed by a peal of laughter.

Looking toward the kitchen from the south corner showed a seating area that looked southwest out onto a patio and backyard.

The yard was inviting – small but modestly and nicely landscaped.

The dining table and six bright orange chairs in the south corner was great for meals and puzzles and games. In this photo is also a better view of that open concept stairwell first encountered in the entry way.

The artwork in the dining area had been hand painted by our hostess. The area was also a place conducive to reading.

Next to the dining area, in the east corner, was a television viewing area. The artwork there was not to my taste. The scale filled the expansive wall space, but then again, Sumo wrestlers are big enough to fill just about any area. Other than a common theme of BIG, I did not see how the paintings complemented each other – not in color, not in subject matter, not in emotions evoked. At least when facing the television I did not see the thong partitioned butt hanging above my head. Actually, as we sat on the futon/couch, Frank's head was underneath the left wrestler, not mine. I sat under the guy on the right doing the plié with arms outstretched as if to give a big hug. No thank you!

Since Frank did not feel well, he and I stayed home resting, reading, and watching a couple movies on Netflix while John & Sue and Joe & Margaret set off to visit a canal museum back in the Notre Dame Basilica region of old Montreal. Good fortune smiled on Frank and me because both movies we selected to watch were engaging and enjoyable - what are the odds, right? We watched the 2016 movie In-Lawfully Yours and the 2009 movie The Rebound.

In-Lawfully Yours had a Hallmark movie type feel to it, so great literature it was not, but it was a charming, predictable (though not sappy), feel-good romance none-the-less. Frank and I both liked it.

The Rebound was a little deeper. Its plot line follows a budding relationship between a guy in his twenties and an older more mature woman, played by Catherine Zeta-Jones. He initially meets her in a women's self defense class she takes because of being divorced and recently relocated to New York City. He moves on to become a hired sitter for her two children and the relationship develops from there. It had some very funny scenes, some poignant scenes, and some downright sad scenes. I recommend it. It does make you think about the role that age difference plays in a relationship.

John & Sue and Joe & Margaret came back with some pastries to share. I liked the unique package design. The cardboard "box" with all the softly-rounded edges unwrapped by peeling back the first flap that was slit to fit over the handle. It sheltered a lemon meringue tart within its curved sides.

After one final evening of visiting and conversation we all retreated to our bedrooms on the upper second and third levels – all of us that is except Frank. Frank, for our final two nights, retired in a public area in the basement, that we had barely used. Frank slept down here so he could be propped vertical and so his violently coughing kept only him awake most of the night and not the rest of the household. I think maybe most of us did shoot a basket or two in the game seen in the background but that was about it. We had had a great visit and vacation but it was timely to be heading home to rest and reflect and, in Frank's case, to recover.

Saturday, October 15th
John & Sue left first in the morning since they were driving and wanted to be back to their home by 4:30 pm. We decided John had the longest arms so we all sat in that transparent stairwell and he took a selfie of the six of us.

Joe & Margaret and Frank & I had mid-afternoon flights and would be leaving late morning. Frank and I had our first experience using Uber, a real time, web based, taxi-type service. We shared a ride with Joe & Margaret. It was obvious I was a newbie at this. I stood outside watching for our driver to arrive. Margaret waited comfortably indoors and tracked its progress from the map displayed by the app on her iPhone. We rode together to YUL, Montreal's airport. Joe & Margaret had a direct flight from Montreal to Washington DC. We parted with Joe & Margaret at the ticket check-in counter since each couple had a different path passing through customs.

The itinerary for Frank and me took us from Montreal to Toronto to San Francisco; basically a 1 hour 20 min flight, 1 hour 20 min layover, and then a 6 hour flight. Frank and I had expected our customs process to be upon arrival at our destination airport but we were wrong. Customs for us was in Canada on both our outgoing and returning flights – in Montreal upon arrival and in Toronto upon departure. For our processing at Toronto Frank and passed this unique structure as we scurried along the circuitous second level path from one customs line to another. This different, leafy away to display the status board of arriving and departing flights caught my eye as worthy of a quick photo on our run (literally) to make our flight. Even with a 1 hour 20 min layover in Toronto, customs processing took long enough that we barely, just barely, boarded our flight to San Francisco before its departure time. Then we sat on the plane and waited about 45 minutes for our pilot and co-pilot who, ironically, had been delayed by... going through customs. 

Our flight to SFO had a few bumps but, other than its auspicious beginning, was relatively uneventful. We deplaned, waiting quite a long while to retrieve our luggage, long enough we were getting nervous about it being on the same flight as us. But it was and we began the remaining ground portion of our journey home, taking the shuttle bus to the parking garage, riding the elevator to the correct floor in the garage, walking to the correct aisle on that floor, and locating the car. I harkened back to the first cell phone  photo I had take for this trip. It was our parking garage location. Who can remember something like that for a week? Once in our car, we spiraled five floors down the end ramp to exit. Both of us admitted we were a bit car sick and nauseous from all that circular motion by the time we reached the bottom. It was raining that evening as Frank drove us home. We were tired and glad to be home.

Sunday, October 16th (and beyond)
I unpacked our suitcases and did laundry the very next day. As you can, see it took me three weeks to complete blogging about it all. The documentation process was hampered by Frank and me both being confirmed sick by doctors' visits and a delightful accompanying suite of medications. We are on the mend now though energy levels are taking their time getting back to normal. Here is a summary of our expeditions in brochure form to remind us where we went.

Here is the summary in ticket form to prove it really was us who went there.

At customs we collected stamps in our passports. Our only other souvenirs and proof that we'd "... been there, done that ..." were the grocery bag from the Metro grocery market where we food shopped and next to it the paper bag from when we bought muffins just before boarding for our Montreal to Toronto flight. We had nothing to declare at customs. Yay!

It wasn't Southwest Airlines - our usual carrier, but we still saved the complimentary bag of pretzels from Air Canada for Alex. Some travel traditions know no borders.

Montreal: Thursday – Hilltop and Underground

Thursday, October 13th

Along the Montreal street Chemin Queen Mary there was a very ornate regal looking building with an impressively long staircase leading to an entrance; we passed it daily when we were on our way to or from our home base. We learned it was Oratoire Saint-Joseph du Mont-Royal, St. Joseph's Oratory of Mount Royal.

It was an eight minute or so drive from where we were staying so we set out Thursday morning to visit the Catholic basilica. Rain was falling so it was good to have an indoor activity.

In an annotated bird's eye view, courtesy of Google maps, the yellow line is the main street in front, Chemin Queen Mary, that we traversed routinely and the red dashed line shows the extent of the long staircase. I believe on pilgrimages, faithful followers climb that staircase on their knees with pauses for praying. The overview accentuates how the domed facility is truly nestled within a hillside. 

Inside, in an area behind the small Votive Chapel, it is much clearer how some areas were carved out of the rock of the mountainside.

Over to the left in the next photo, above my shoulder near the top, is an arched support between the building and the rock face.

Here is a closeup of that support showing how integrate  building and mountain are.

The main large basilica area is call the crypt-church and seats 1000. The church is also called a crypt because its vault is supported by flattened arches and because it is at the foot of the basilica. It was the most impressive size-wise of the portions of the oratory. Here is the grey silhouette of Saint Joseph's Oratory at 124m tall compared to other world renowned churches.

In the crypt-church area were four confessionals with bible phrases in French carved in the granite (maybe marble) on the wall next to each confessional. Margaret and I, with our limited few years of French, were puzzling out bits and snatches of the phrases. Probably the most amazing part of our tour for me was when Joe used his iPhone camera with a Google translation app. All he did was focus the camera on the wall area next to the confessional with its chiseled phrase and it appeared in English with the same font and same background. It was amazing. It was like a real life Harry Potter and a magical Marauders' Map coupled with the ability to translate parseltongue. I did not get a photo of our particular example (I was busy struggling to close my mouth from when my jaw had dropped open) but here is an example I screen-grabbed from the internet of what a translation would look like on a iPhone.

The previous example is from Russian, not French nor parseltongue! Should you wish to try translating an image from a language of your choice, here are the instructions to do so. (On the off chance that you should desire to expand your linguistics repertoire to include parseltongue, check out this link https://sites.google.com/site/parseltongue101/lesson1.)

After St Joseph's Oratory we went back to home base to check on Frank. He had opted out of this side trip because he was still feeling sick; but, after resting some, he was up for an afternoon outing. We would be checking out the underground city of Montreal.

We accessed the Montreal Underground City (La Ville Souterraine) from within a Metro station. Apparently the subterranean area is very popular with the locals in inclement weather so they never have to go outside. Wall decor going from the Metro station to part of the underground city varied by tunnel. This one I thought was attractive with several different styles and textures of bricks; but one side is in beige tones and one side is in red tones. Other tunnels had displays of art work behind clear acrylic panels. Daily pedestrians probably no longer notice but for tourists there is a fair amount to see beyond just a route.

Once emerging from a tunnel via an escalator, the skylighted ceiling still provided a view of the outdoors. Even though offices towered on either side of the walkways, it did not feel claustrophobic.

I must admit the shopping was not very appealing. Many of the shops were high end – far beyond my price comfort zone and exceedingly outside my design style comfort range. But there were other items of interest besides stores. There was the occasional statue or oddity to see. If you think Frank is pointing to the man on the staircase you do not know him very well. He is performing the classic Vanna White gesture toward the lovely naked lady to his right. Imagine working in one of the offices in the background and having such fountains and stonework and scenery right out your office window all the time.

A piece of history was right there in the underground city, a section of the Berlin Wall, within tangible range. The East Berlin side is pretty bleak.

The opposite West Berlin side is much more artistically adorned with colorful graffiti.

There were a few scenic reflective pools and cafe-like restaurants about. The one with red umbrellas in the background was too busy to seat us so we walked on. Someone at the information booth in the underground city recommended a restaurant to us. It  was nearby but not within the tunnel system.

Although it was against the whole raison d'être of the underground city, we ventured outdoors to find a place for a late lunch / early dinner. We exited this rather architecturally striking building through an otherwise nondescript pair of doors. The emblem above them reminded me of something, but I just could not quite put my finger on what it was.

After a closer look I made the connection.

It reminded me of The Man from U.N.C.L.E. logo from the popular television spy show featuring Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin. The Man from U.N.C.L.E. TV series ran from 1964-1968 and it was my favorite TV show during its hey-day. Even in the days before VCRs I never missed it!

Then I noticed that the brownstone building that sported this two door portal and the overhead sign also reminded me of the subtle tailor shop that camouflaged the headquarters of one of the world's largest law enforcement agencies (United Network Command for Law and Enforcement). Who suspected what lurked within that tailor shop on the streets of New York? Who would suspect that an entire underground city lurked behind that double door portal in Montreal?

We left the allure of the underground and continued to walk directly across the street to go to the restaurant Steak frites.

This restaurant had a unique concept. They welcomed you to bring your own wine, sparkling wine, champagne, and beer and there were no fees for the wine or beer bottle opening service.

Their website advertises:

Wine lovers, we have a challenge: finding the best value wine at the best price! Share with us your choice of wine with a photo on Instagram to #lesteakfrites with your geolocation.

The most spectacular Instagram pictures staging you with your choice of wine could be on our Instagram mosaics of our website.

The wine price is not important. YOU are the sommelier, surprise us!

The place had a comfy feel to it. We happened to be there during a retirement party on the upper level so the noise trickled cascaded down. But it was a very jolly type of noisy with cheering and laughter so it created a happy mood for us. I had a filet mignon ka-bob and it was excellent.

After our meal we went back briefly to the underground but decided that we preferred to go back to home base. Once back in California I researched where we had been that day. The Underground City of Montreal was much more extensive than the small, fractional, possibly even non-representative, area we visited. La Ville Souterraine consists of over twenty miles of underground tunnels so there is no way we could have visited it all. The link http://montrealvisitorsguide.com/reso-underground-city-la-ville-souterraine/ displays a much different tone from the area we visited. But we were not there to be product consumers so we were content with what we did see and had no regrets about skipping the highly retail section. After six consecutive days of travel and non-stop tourism, we were OK to slow down a bit and rest. The gently falling rain made the mood conducive to do so.