Strangers in the house

The Strangers in the House is a broodingly atmospheric novel which I felt was more of an intense character study than a crime fiction tale. There is indeed a crime to be solved - the story begins with a murder in the middle of the night - but its resolution takes second place to Simenon's portrayal of the man around whom the tale revolves, a reclusive alcoholic former lawyer named Hector Loursat. I absolutely loved how Simenon builds up his portrait of this man. From early details such as Loursat's daily pilgrimage to the cellar to retrieve his daily wine ration - three bottles of burgundy - to his attempts at personal rehabilitation in order to solve the case, Loursat is a pitiable figure, yet I found something compelling in the telling of his tale. Simenon completely understand Loursat and puts across, in gorgeously florid prose, the man's thoughts and compulsions as he steps back into the edges of town life for the first time in nearly two decades.

Unfortunately, compared to the care with which Simenon writes about Loursat, I thought the other characters were, at best, shallow and sometimes even just caricatures or speedy sketches of people. The ultimate unveiling of the guilty party also seemed somewhat rushed and slapdash as if Simenon, coming to the end of the novel, suddenly realised that he hadn't yet decided who his culprit should be. That that particular person was to blame (and I don't want to give their identity away in this review!) did make me feel quite uncomfortable too, especially given the era in which The Strangers In The House was first published.

I did love, however, the dark atmosphere of the town with Moulins itself becoming the second strongest character (in a way). This is noir writing at its best and I loved Howard Curtis' sympathetic translation. I wish my French was competent enough to have read this book in its original prose. I'm not sure that The Strangers In The House would be a good choice for Maigret crime fiction fans, but for readers who can put character and setting over plot, it is an engrossing read.

The pleasures of this book come from subtle moments - an elegant piece of description, the natural interplay of diction between the main character's inner world and the world around him.

Georges Simenon may be a writer's writer. Certainly, a lot of what I liked about this novel was the economic way he was able to use language to convey two distinct and interesting storylines: one psychological, the other within the constraints of the genre.

I've read Paul Theroux compare Simenon to Camus (entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/the_tls/article3539880.ece), and I have to admit I like the comparison. Where Camus steeps his reader in dark brooding and bottomless existential angst, Simenon is a little like the people's philosophy. The moments of angst in this book, occur as a matter of realism in the pragmatic portrayal and haunting dilemmas of Loursat, the main character.

I really like this author. I recommend him to anyone who likes genre fiction or philosophical considerations.