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The Strangers in the House
Dirty, drunk, unloved, and unloving, Hector Loursat has been a bitter recluse for eighteen long years—ever since his wife abandoned him and their newborn child to run off with another man. Once a successful lawyer, Loursat now guzzles burgundy and buries himself in books, taking little notice of his teenage daughter or the odd things going on in his vast and ever-more-dilapidated mansion. But one night the sound of a gunshot penetrates the padded walls of Loursat’s study, and he is forced to investigate. What he stumbles on is a murder.
Soon Loursat discovers that his daughter and her friends have been leading a dangerous secret life. He finds himself strangely drawn to this group of young people, and when one of them is accused of the murder, he astonishes the world by taking up the young man’s defense.
In The Strangers in the House , Georges Simenon, master chronicler of the dark side of the human heart, gives us a detective story that is also a tale of an improbable redemption.
Soon Loursat discovers that his daughter and her friends have been leading a dangerous secret life. He finds himself strangely drawn to this group of young people, and when one of them is accused of the murder, he astonishes the world by taking up the young man’s defense.
In The Strangers in the House , Georges Simenon, master chronicler of the dark side of the human heart, gives us a detective story that is also a tale of an improbable redemption.
194 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1940
45 people are currently reading
2488 people want to read
About the author
Georges Simenon
2,554books2,169followersGeorges Joseph Christian Simenon (1903 � 1989) was a Belgian writer. A prolific author who published nearly 500 novels and numerous short works, Simenon is best known as the creator of the fictional detective Jules Maigret.
Although he never resided in Belgium after 1922, he remained a Belgian citizen throughout his life.
Simenon was one of the most prolific writers of the twentieth century, capable of writing 60 to 80 pages per day. His oeuvre includes nearly 200 novels, over 150 novellas, several autobiographical works, numerous articles, and scores of pulp novels written under more than two dozen pseudonyms. Altogether, about 550 million copies of his works have been printed.
He is best known, however, for his 75 novels and 28 short stories featuring Commissaire Maigret. The first novel in the series, Pietr-le-Letton, appeared in 1931; the last one, Maigret et M. Charles, was published in 1972. The Maigret novels were translated into all major languages and several of them were turned into films and radio plays. Two television series (1960-63 and 1992-93) have been made in Great Britain.
During his "American" period, Simenon reached the height of his creative powers, and several novels of those years were inspired by the context in which they were written (Trois chambres à Manhattan (1946), Maigret à New York (1947), Maigret se fâche (1947)).
Simenon also wrote a large number of "psychological novels", such as La neige était sale (1948) or Le fils (1957), as well as several autobiographical works, in particular Je me souviens (1945), Pedigree (1948), Mémoires intimes (1981).
In 1966, Simenon was given the MWA's highest honor, the Grand Master Award.
In 2005 he was nominated for the title of De Grootste Belg (The Greatest Belgian). In the Flemish version he ended 77th place. In the Walloon version he ended 10th place.
Although he never resided in Belgium after 1922, he remained a Belgian citizen throughout his life.
Simenon was one of the most prolific writers of the twentieth century, capable of writing 60 to 80 pages per day. His oeuvre includes nearly 200 novels, over 150 novellas, several autobiographical works, numerous articles, and scores of pulp novels written under more than two dozen pseudonyms. Altogether, about 550 million copies of his works have been printed.
He is best known, however, for his 75 novels and 28 short stories featuring Commissaire Maigret. The first novel in the series, Pietr-le-Letton, appeared in 1931; the last one, Maigret et M. Charles, was published in 1972. The Maigret novels were translated into all major languages and several of them were turned into films and radio plays. Two television series (1960-63 and 1992-93) have been made in Great Britain.
During his "American" period, Simenon reached the height of his creative powers, and several novels of those years were inspired by the context in which they were written (Trois chambres à Manhattan (1946), Maigret à New York (1947), Maigret se fâche (1947)).
Simenon also wrote a large number of "psychological novels", such as La neige était sale (1948) or Le fils (1957), as well as several autobiographical works, in particular Je me souviens (1945), Pedigree (1948), Mémoires intimes (1981).
In 1966, Simenon was given the MWA's highest honor, the Grand Master Award.
In 2005 he was nominated for the title of De Grootste Belg (The Greatest Belgian). In the Flemish version he ended 77th place. In the Walloon version he ended 10th place.
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December 5, 2020
First published in 1940, a Georges Simenon non-Maigret roman durs or “hard novel,� a penetrating psychological study of Hector Loursat, a man who was a brilliant attorney in his younger days, awakened from his eighteen-year hermit-like existence by a murder committed in his own house. And why had Hector Loursat been living like a hermit all those years? For one very simple reason: without any explanation, Hector’s wife suddenly vanished, leaving him for another man, abandoned him and their two-year old daughter Nicole, left them both and the city of Moulins for good.
Moulins. Located on the banks of the Allier River in central France, the atmosphere of this rainy French city with its cold air and wet streets, drab storefronts and even drabber courthouse, makes its presence felt on every page. "That evening Loursat stoked up his stove with special care, as the cold and the wet outside made the misty atmosphere indoors all the more luxurious. He could hear the patter of the rain and now and again the creaking hinge of a shutter that hadn't been properly closed and was caught by one of the sudden gusts of wind that swept along the street."
And its on this cold, rainy autumn evening the story's drama begins: like a crack of a whip but with more weight, more percussion, a sound not from outside but definitely inside, a sound prompts Hector Loursat, after draining yet another glass of Burgundy and putting his cigarette back in his mouth, to rouse himself from his comfortable den chair and venture through hallways, stairways and rooms he hadn't set eyes on in years.
Convinced the sound he heard was, in fact, the shot of a gun, Loursat makes his way to the other end of the house and knocks on Nicole’s bedroom door. Just then he catches the briefest glimpse of a disappearing figure, probably a man, stepping briskly down a set of stairs. Nicole, who is now a twenty-year old young lady, opens the door and asks her father what he wants. Without question, one of the most appealing and tender parts of the novel’s unfolding drama is how father and daughter come together to form a legal team in their efforts to solve the murder mystery.
Detecting the scent of gunpowder, Loursat climbs stairs, Nicole trailing behind, and searches the third floor until he switches a light on in one of the rooms and discovers two eyes staring at him. A man, a large man, in bed, half covered in bedclothes gurgles, no wails, and then slumps over dead. Nicole gazes at her father, as if the most shocking thing in the room isn’t the dead man but her father standing before her, calm and weighty.
A stranger in the house, shot dead, the event that shakes Loursat out of his routine of walling himself in his den day and night, drinking, smoking, reading poetry and philosophy, a routine only punctuated by meals with Nicole (eating only; in all those years he never really exchanged words with his daughter) and a daily walk, “the sort of walk you take to exercise a small dog, in fact he almost gave the impression of holding himself on a leash. The walk consisted of going around four blocks of houses, never more, never less.�
For me, in addition to all the vintage Simenon laser-sharp character studies, a fascinating read on two counts: First, the novel’s structure � Part One, Hunting down the clues and reconstructing the facts in the aftermath of the murder; Part Two, the court case itself. In the hands of Georges Simenon, this tried and true lawyer fiction formula packs a punch. Second, how his eighteen years as a recluse puts Hector Loursant in touch with his own teenage years, a loner studying poetry and philosophy, thus giving him great insight and feeling for the emotions of the young adults that formed the city’s gang associated with Big Louie, the murder victim. Turns out, Loursant's insights and feelings serve him well in his reentry into the world of action and his role as lawyer. A probing existential novel that will keep you turning the pages.
P. D. James in her Introduction to this New York Review Books (NYRB) edition of The Strangers in the House: "Simenon is brilliant at selecting the salient facts which bring alive a character or a place, inducing the reader to contribute his own imagination to that of the writer so that more is conveyed than is written."
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January 2, 2021LA MORTE CHE RIPORTA LA VITA
La prima versione cinematografica è del 1942, si intitola come il romanzo, “Les inconnus dans la maison�, la regia è di Henri Decoin, la sceneggiatura di Henri-Georges Cluzot, e il protagonista è interpretato da Raimu.
Questo è il mio Simenon preferito.
Il Simenon che ho sempre voglia di rileggere, e prima o poi lo farò.
Ambientato nella provincia francese, quella che Simenon sa rendere in maniera magistrale.
In questo caso siamo a Moulins, nell’esatto centro della Francia: è un comune di soli ventimila abitanti, ma nella posizione geografica perfetta per essere la capitale della nazione.
Sempre la versione del 1942 che in Italia prende l’insulso titolo di “Gioventù traviata�, in anticipo di tredici anni sul mitico film che lanciò James Dean, “Rebel Without A Cause � Gioventù bruciata�.
Inizio di ottobre, i primi freddi veri, comincia l’autunno, piove, è sera.
Il protagonista non ha ancora cinquant’anni, è un avvocato di famiglia prestigiosa, Loursat de Saint-Marc: vive come un orso, barricato nella sua stanza studio piena di libri, accanto alle sue preziose e ottime bottiglie di borgogna, di cui fa uso quotidiano in numero di almeno tre.
Non esercita più la professione, si è ritirato, chiuso in se stesso, senza quasi pronunciare parola per giorni interi, trasandato e sciatto.
Nel 1967 esce “Stranger in the House � Uno sconosciuto in casa� di Pierre Rouve, versione inglese.
La ragione della sua discesa esistenziale è che sua moglie lo ha lasciato diciotto anni prima: dopo aver vissuto insieme per tre anni, è scappata col suo amante, che si mormora avesse già da prima del matrimonio - ha abbandonato anche la figlia, Nicole, per quanto ancora molto piccola.
Padre e figlia si incontrano solo a cena: consumano, senza aprire bocca se non per masticare, pasti preparati dalla cuoca, nel silenzio più completo, interrotto solo alla fine da mezze parole mormorate, quando il padre si alza da tavola per ritirarsi nella sua stanza, dove continuerà a bere tutta la notte.
Il protagonista del film inglese è James Mason. Sua figlia è interpretata da Geraldine Chaplin.
Ma questa fredda e piovosa sera di inizio ottobre è diversa.
O meglio, succede qualcosa di diverso, di assolutamente insolito.
Nel silenzio notturno dell’antico palazzo echeggia uno sparo.
Loursat esce dalla sua stanza per capire cosa è successo, vede un’ombra che si dilegua in fondo a un corridoio, e in una stanza del secondo piano trova un uomo che muore sotto i suoi occhi.
Chi è, che ci fa in casa sua, chi gli ha sparato, chi lo ha ucciso?
Non so in che paese fu adottata questa locandina (Ungheria?): certo colpisce per la perfetta temporalità della grafica che sembra presa pari pari dalla copertina di un album dei Beatles.
Qui Simenon tira fuori tutto il suo talento di indagatore dell’animo umano ed esibisce grande delicatezza nel descrivere il nuovo rapporto che si instaura tra padre e figlia, fatto di tenerezza appena accennata, sguardi e piccoli gesti d’affetto. Come se entrambi fossero timorosi di rompere il nuovo imprevisto incanto che si è creato tra loro, l’inizio di un sentimento d’amore che si era interrotto diciotto anni prima.
L’uomo scopre man mano la figlia e il suo mondo, e viceversa, la giovane comprende il vuoto del padre e impara il suo valore sepolto. Entrambi imparano a volersi bene.
Il palazzo Loursat de Saint-Marc a Moulins.
È un piacere vedere come l’uomo recupera il suo mestiere, la sua abilità di avvocato nella difesa del giovane innamorato di sua figlia che è accusato dell’omicidio.
È una goduria vedere come spezza la cappa di perbenismo del paese, incurante d’andar contro la sua classe sociale.
Simenon è scarno, asciutto, perfino lapidario, quasi pudico. Ma i suoi ritratti psicologici e fisici, per quanto accennati, sono completi.
Scritto nel 1939, Gli intrusi apparve a stampa l’anno successivo.
La prima versione cinematografica è del 1942, si intitola come il romanzo, “Les inconnus dans la maison�, la regia è di Henri Decoin, la sceneggiatura di Henri-Georges Cluzot, e il protagonista è interpretato da Raimu.
Questo è il mio Simenon preferito.
Il Simenon che ho sempre voglia di rileggere, e prima o poi lo farò.
Ambientato nella provincia francese, quella che Simenon sa rendere in maniera magistrale.
In questo caso siamo a Moulins, nell’esatto centro della Francia: è un comune di soli ventimila abitanti, ma nella posizione geografica perfetta per essere la capitale della nazione.
Sempre la versione del 1942 che in Italia prende l’insulso titolo di “Gioventù traviata�, in anticipo di tredici anni sul mitico film che lanciò James Dean, “Rebel Without A Cause � Gioventù bruciata�.
Inizio di ottobre, i primi freddi veri, comincia l’autunno, piove, è sera.
Il protagonista non ha ancora cinquant’anni, è un avvocato di famiglia prestigiosa, Loursat de Saint-Marc: vive come un orso, barricato nella sua stanza studio piena di libri, accanto alle sue preziose e ottime bottiglie di borgogna, di cui fa uso quotidiano in numero di almeno tre.
Non esercita più la professione, si è ritirato, chiuso in se stesso, senza quasi pronunciare parola per giorni interi, trasandato e sciatto.
Nel 1967 esce “Stranger in the House � Uno sconosciuto in casa� di Pierre Rouve, versione inglese.
La ragione della sua discesa esistenziale è che sua moglie lo ha lasciato diciotto anni prima: dopo aver vissuto insieme per tre anni, è scappata col suo amante, che si mormora avesse già da prima del matrimonio - ha abbandonato anche la figlia, Nicole, per quanto ancora molto piccola.
Padre e figlia si incontrano solo a cena: consumano, senza aprire bocca se non per masticare, pasti preparati dalla cuoca, nel silenzio più completo, interrotto solo alla fine da mezze parole mormorate, quando il padre si alza da tavola per ritirarsi nella sua stanza, dove continuerà a bere tutta la notte.
Il protagonista del film inglese è James Mason. Sua figlia è interpretata da Geraldine Chaplin.
Ma questa fredda e piovosa sera di inizio ottobre è diversa.
O meglio, succede qualcosa di diverso, di assolutamente insolito.
Nel silenzio notturno dell’antico palazzo echeggia uno sparo.
Loursat esce dalla sua stanza per capire cosa è successo, vede un’ombra che si dilegua in fondo a un corridoio, e in una stanza del secondo piano trova un uomo che muore sotto i suoi occhi.
Chi è, che ci fa in casa sua, chi gli ha sparato, chi lo ha ucciso?
Non so in che paese fu adottata questa locandina (Ungheria?): certo colpisce per la perfetta temporalità della grafica che sembra presa pari pari dalla copertina di un album dei Beatles.
Qui Simenon tira fuori tutto il suo talento di indagatore dell’animo umano ed esibisce grande delicatezza nel descrivere il nuovo rapporto che si instaura tra padre e figlia, fatto di tenerezza appena accennata, sguardi e piccoli gesti d’affetto. Come se entrambi fossero timorosi di rompere il nuovo imprevisto incanto che si è creato tra loro, l’inizio di un sentimento d’amore che si era interrotto diciotto anni prima.
L’uomo scopre man mano la figlia e il suo mondo, e viceversa, la giovane comprende il vuoto del padre e impara il suo valore sepolto. Entrambi imparano a volersi bene.
Il palazzo Loursat de Saint-Marc a Moulins.
È un piacere vedere come l’uomo recupera il suo mestiere, la sua abilità di avvocato nella difesa del giovane innamorato di sua figlia che è accusato dell’omicidio.
È una goduria vedere come spezza la cappa di perbenismo del paese, incurante d’andar contro la sua classe sociale.
Simenon è scarno, asciutto, perfino lapidario, quasi pudico. Ma i suoi ritratti psicologici e fisici, per quanto accennati, sono completi.
Scritto nel 1939, Gli intrusi apparve a stampa l’anno successivo.
May 10, 2017
Of the five or six Simenons I've read, The Strangers In the House strikes me as the one generating the most narrative pleasure. A discussion of the plot-line would tell you little about the joys of this volume--it's all in the actual writing--so I'll limit myself to the following. At the core of the novel is a man, Loursat, a lawyer, who has lived a deadened life since his wife left him for another man eighteen years ago. Now, with the commission of a murder that takes place in his own home, he returns to life. He is awakened when he undertakes the defense of an innocent young man and is driven to stands of principle he had previously thought beyond his burgundy-numbed mind. I found the book an emotionally powerful marvel. The final trial scene is handled in a way that seems fresh and appealing even today, seventy-two years after publication (1940). Instead of hauling each witness through the dock, Simenon let's us know of all the preparation that has gone into the defense and, while the prosecutor is prattling on and everyone listens, Loursat mentally makes his argument, mostly by recalling bits of deposed testimony. I don't say this is a striking innovation on Simenon's part, but it is, again, so perfectly executed. The book's considerable pleasures lie in its compression, in the author's ability to emphasize only the most salient aspects of the story. No word, as they say, is wasted. One last note, I have never been so gripped by the simple description of a physical structure since . Though Dickens had the luxury of length, Simenon does not. He merely possesses a model linguistic economy. Many thanks to New York Review Books for winnowing this one from the Andean heap.
September 11, 2011
Those four stars should have an asterisk beside them. In the ungenerous, critical light of the morning after, The Strangers in the House is probably just a three star book, but because I read a good chunk of it in the middle of the night, with the rain listlessly tapping on the roof and myself burrowed under a blanket to escape the pre-autumn chill, I awarded it an additional associative star. It was a perfect book, in my appraisal, for nestling; it contributed to such a totalizing feeling of security and relaxation that literary merit almost becomes irrelevant. But we're here (I suppose) to discuss the books themselves, so I'll get on with it. Simenon's The Strangers in the House is, in essence, a novel of detection—which is to say there is a murder mystery and it needs solving. Hector Loursat, the accidental protagonist, is a past-his-prime defense attorney who's steadily gone to seed since his wife left him eighteen years earlier. He lives with his independent daughter Nicole and a few servants in a rambling house in provincial France, but he rarely engages with them. He leaves his study and adjoining bedroom only to get more wine from the cellar or to eat a silent, regimented dinner with Nicole. But fate has a way of interrupting routines. One night: a gunshot! Inside his house, even. A man scurries down the stairs. A dead man (previously unknown to Loursat) is discovered in the attic. It's almost as if a strange underworld were domiciled in the nooks and crannies of his own home—and he never bothered to notice! Not that it really interests him in the slightest what transpires in the far-flung corners of the house so long as it doesn't intrude upon his carefully managed solitude. But a dead body? Well, that's certainly an intrusion. What's more, Nicole and her 'gang' of young male roustabouts seem to be tied up in the crime. Who knew the world was so busy while Loursat was locked in his room, chugging wine and browsing his book collection? But a disclaimer is in order... If you intend on reading The Strangers in the House because you like mysteries or detective novels, you're in for a big disappointment. The story itself is lightweight, and the murder is solved in an infuriatingly haphazard way. But The Strangers in the House isn't really a detective novel for fans of detective novels. It's more of a detective novel for fans of character studies. Simenon is a master at developing rich and familiar characters from minimal evocative details. He is a curator of literary personality. Loursat—a variant on the sad sack—undergoes a transformation as a result of his peripheral involvement with the crime. But ever the pessimist, Simenon knows that real-life transformations are usually rare and insignificant. Loursat is ultimately just Loursat. But it's enjoyable spending time with him, nevertheless. Even if the rain isn't tapping on your roof.
September 16, 2018
I personaggi di Simenon escono fuori dalla carta. E siccome non sono mai stinchi di santo, condividi con loro per tutta la lettura i vizi, le miserie, gli errori... ma anche l'umanità. E alla fine li assolvi, in barba a tutta la giustizia terrena. O sei costretto a guardarli con compassione.
Una penna magica quella di Simenon.
Una penna magica quella di Simenon.
September 21, 2019
There are strangers in Hector Loursat's house, and one of them is killed by another. Loursat is not a witness. Indeed, he did not know there were strangers in his house. The strangers are friends of his daughter, young adults who like to party. Loursat is unaware of them because he prefers to stay in his study with his daily dose of three bottles of burgundy, the occasional rum, and his thousands of books, for he was like a stranger in his own house.
Loursat is a lawyer by profession but he is annoyed by work or anything that keeps him from his two above-stated hobbies. His wife left him years ago for Bernard. His is a solitude which he might not quite enjoy but certainly wears well.
He had lived his life like a character in a tragedy, surrounded by high-minded sentiments. . . . a purring stove, dark red wine, and all the books you could wish. He had read everything, he knew everything, and he could afford to sit in his own corner and sneer, "The fools!" . . . And he was often inclined to add, "Pestilent fools!" . . . Then--crack! A pistol shot on the floor above. A gang of young people were discovered, and within twenty-four hours he had left his lair to go scurrying in their wake.
Improbably, Loursat undertakes the legal defense of the accused murderer, assured of his innocence. He winnows down his three daily bottles to one. And we are treated to a cinematic, Perry Mason moment in court.
This is not so much a whodunit as it is a well-drawn exposition of one man's character. It probably is my favorite Simenon to date.
And while there were similarities to be sure, I did not see myself in Loursat. Still there was this:
He had looked around him and suddenly found himself a stranger to the background against which he had lived so long. Those books--hundreds of books, thousands of them, the heavy, thick atmosphere, the peace, the silence in which you could hear your own pulse beating.
Loursat is a lawyer by profession but he is annoyed by work or anything that keeps him from his two above-stated hobbies. His wife left him years ago for Bernard. His is a solitude which he might not quite enjoy but certainly wears well.
He had lived his life like a character in a tragedy, surrounded by high-minded sentiments. . . . a purring stove, dark red wine, and all the books you could wish. He had read everything, he knew everything, and he could afford to sit in his own corner and sneer, "The fools!" . . . And he was often inclined to add, "Pestilent fools!" . . . Then--crack! A pistol shot on the floor above. A gang of young people were discovered, and within twenty-four hours he had left his lair to go scurrying in their wake.
Improbably, Loursat undertakes the legal defense of the accused murderer, assured of his innocence. He winnows down his three daily bottles to one. And we are treated to a cinematic, Perry Mason moment in court.
This is not so much a whodunit as it is a well-drawn exposition of one man's character. It probably is my favorite Simenon to date.
And while there were similarities to be sure, I did not see myself in Loursat. Still there was this:
He had looked around him and suddenly found himself a stranger to the background against which he had lived so long. Those books--hundreds of books, thousands of them, the heavy, thick atmosphere, the peace, the silence in which you could hear your own pulse beating.
July 12, 2023
There is something magical about the way we are introduced to the life and interior world of Hector Loursat:
At the corner of a street most of the addresses of which belonged to solicitors and notaries stood the house of the Loursat family, or, to give the family its full name, Loursat de Saint-Marc. Though similar in size and style, it differed from the other houses in its aloofness. It was remote, sleepy, secret. Between its two wings was a paved courtyard shut off from the street by a high wall. In the middle stood a fountain - an empty basin with a statue of Apollo from whose mouth protruded a spout through which no water ever came.
* * *
That evening - it must have been the second Wednesday of the month since it was the day of the monthly dinner at the prefecture - that evening Loursat stoked up his stove with especial care, as the cold and the wet outside made the fug indoors all the more luxurious.
He could hear the patter of the rain and now and again the creaking hinge of a shutter that hadn't been properly closed and was caught by one of the sudden gusts of wind that swept along the street. He could also hear as insistent as a metronome, the ticking of his watch in his waistcoat pocket.
He had for the last hour been reading a life of Tamerlane in an old edition that had a mouldy smell and whose binding was crumbling away. He had put the book down. Perhaps he was thinking of fetching another, but, if he was, the idea was banished from his mind. He raised his head slowly, surprised, interested.
Normally few sounds reached him in his study. . . .
And so the plot begins. But it is hard to remember the last time I was introduced to a particular time and place with such a profound sense of mood and reality. All my senses are bristling. Inside the old house, you feel time passing, the quietness, the seclusion of Loursat in his den; and outside the cold, rainy weather gives us the idea that the small, town itself is as enclosed and sealed-off - as Hector Loursat.
I've always enjoyed and appreciated Simenon's novels. Like most, I started with his Inspector Maigret stories, but I've since moved on to his - roman durs. I don't feel, however, this is a hard or serious novel, and it is because of our narrator, Loursat. His dour sense of self, and acute observations of his fellow towns-folk push the story into the realm of comedy. But there is a murder; and as a leading magistrate albeit one who has sunk into an alcoholic ruin, Loursat is keen to take on the case of Emile Manu. On the night of the opening chapter Loursat hears a sharp noise, similar to a pistol shot. Just as he knocks on his daughter, Nicole's door he catches a glimpse of a young man disappearing down the backstairs; moments later he climbs to the floor above to find a dying man.
The novel moves us gradually through the investigations carried out by Rogissart, the chief prosecutor and his aid Ducup, both of whom are colleagues of Loursat. Loursat the lawyer emerges after 18 years, curious to see the people he has noted, are on the prosecutor's list and slowly he begins to unravel the events of the night of the murder. They involve a group of young people, including his daughter. Initially, the powers that be wish to avoid an investigation. The following day, however, Emile Manu, turn's up at Loursat's house to declare his love for Nicole, and to insist on his innocence; and Loursat says - "How do you know there was a murder?" Manu reveals a note from Nicole, and our cynical narrator recognises the truth when he hears it.
The story is also a fantastic unravelling of Hector Loursat's own dead-end and in particular his reconnection with Nicole, whom he has ignored since her mother left 18 years previously. Nicole and Loursat work together constructing a strong defense for Emile Manu.
I loved it. Only the ending seems a bit of a let down; the whole is concluded so swiftly that you understand the resolution of the murder was never the main point. The reader is also drawn into the process of how we create a person - how we think we know their intentions and motivations. I think Simenon deliberately dangles a suspect to trip us up and engage us in this particular process. He renders in some detail a particularly unpleasant young man, Dossin, the gang leader; who is also Loursat's nephew. Alert readers will realise, however, that the official justice system has acted in the same way in reference to the young man whom they have accused.
Simenon is always interested in how we construct the other, particularly in relation to class and social differences. In Simenon's books it is the social outcasts who are the most impartial. The 'Pigalle Woman' - ah uhmm - 'a lady of the night,' sends Loursat a note indicating she knows the identity of the murderer and it is Joe from The Boxing Bar, who has prompted this note due to his own investigations, which he does out of respect for Loursat.
Simenon through his wonderful protagonist the lawyer, Hector Loursat demonstrates how it is possible to become more than we are and at the same time asks us to question the values by which we label others. I really enjoyed this book; there are no overt "lessons" or moral advice, just the fascinating observations and perspective of our fabulous narrator.
At the corner of a street most of the addresses of which belonged to solicitors and notaries stood the house of the Loursat family, or, to give the family its full name, Loursat de Saint-Marc. Though similar in size and style, it differed from the other houses in its aloofness. It was remote, sleepy, secret. Between its two wings was a paved courtyard shut off from the street by a high wall. In the middle stood a fountain - an empty basin with a statue of Apollo from whose mouth protruded a spout through which no water ever came.
* * *
That evening - it must have been the second Wednesday of the month since it was the day of the monthly dinner at the prefecture - that evening Loursat stoked up his stove with especial care, as the cold and the wet outside made the fug indoors all the more luxurious.
He could hear the patter of the rain and now and again the creaking hinge of a shutter that hadn't been properly closed and was caught by one of the sudden gusts of wind that swept along the street. He could also hear as insistent as a metronome, the ticking of his watch in his waistcoat pocket.
He had for the last hour been reading a life of Tamerlane in an old edition that had a mouldy smell and whose binding was crumbling away. He had put the book down. Perhaps he was thinking of fetching another, but, if he was, the idea was banished from his mind. He raised his head slowly, surprised, interested.
Normally few sounds reached him in his study. . . .
And so the plot begins. But it is hard to remember the last time I was introduced to a particular time and place with such a profound sense of mood and reality. All my senses are bristling. Inside the old house, you feel time passing, the quietness, the seclusion of Loursat in his den; and outside the cold, rainy weather gives us the idea that the small, town itself is as enclosed and sealed-off - as Hector Loursat.
I've always enjoyed and appreciated Simenon's novels. Like most, I started with his Inspector Maigret stories, but I've since moved on to his - roman durs. I don't feel, however, this is a hard or serious novel, and it is because of our narrator, Loursat. His dour sense of self, and acute observations of his fellow towns-folk push the story into the realm of comedy. But there is a murder; and as a leading magistrate albeit one who has sunk into an alcoholic ruin, Loursat is keen to take on the case of Emile Manu. On the night of the opening chapter Loursat hears a sharp noise, similar to a pistol shot. Just as he knocks on his daughter, Nicole's door he catches a glimpse of a young man disappearing down the backstairs; moments later he climbs to the floor above to find a dying man.
The novel moves us gradually through the investigations carried out by Rogissart, the chief prosecutor and his aid Ducup, both of whom are colleagues of Loursat. Loursat the lawyer emerges after 18 years, curious to see the people he has noted, are on the prosecutor's list and slowly he begins to unravel the events of the night of the murder. They involve a group of young people, including his daughter. Initially, the powers that be wish to avoid an investigation. The following day, however, Emile Manu, turn's up at Loursat's house to declare his love for Nicole, and to insist on his innocence; and Loursat says - "How do you know there was a murder?" Manu reveals a note from Nicole, and our cynical narrator recognises the truth when he hears it.
The story is also a fantastic unravelling of Hector Loursat's own dead-end and in particular his reconnection with Nicole, whom he has ignored since her mother left 18 years previously. Nicole and Loursat work together constructing a strong defense for Emile Manu.
I loved it. Only the ending seems a bit of a let down; the whole is concluded so swiftly that you understand the resolution of the murder was never the main point. The reader is also drawn into the process of how we create a person - how we think we know their intentions and motivations. I think Simenon deliberately dangles a suspect to trip us up and engage us in this particular process. He renders in some detail a particularly unpleasant young man, Dossin, the gang leader; who is also Loursat's nephew. Alert readers will realise, however, that the official justice system has acted in the same way in reference to the young man whom they have accused.
Simenon is always interested in how we construct the other, particularly in relation to class and social differences. In Simenon's books it is the social outcasts who are the most impartial. The 'Pigalle Woman' - ah uhmm - 'a lady of the night,' sends Loursat a note indicating she knows the identity of the murderer and it is Joe from The Boxing Bar, who has prompted this note due to his own investigations, which he does out of respect for Loursat.
Simenon through his wonderful protagonist the lawyer, Hector Loursat demonstrates how it is possible to become more than we are and at the same time asks us to question the values by which we label others. I really enjoyed this book; there are no overt "lessons" or moral advice, just the fascinating observations and perspective of our fabulous narrator.
December 3, 2021
I thought I was doing well having read 8 of Simenon’s Roman Durs and then I made the mistake of looking up a list and realised that he’d written 115 of the blighters, so I hadn’t even made a dent in them.
Ostensibly this is the story of a murder and who did it but, seeing as we never meet the victim other than as a corpse and he is of dubious character, the death is only the vehicle for the true theme of the book which is the withdrawal from life. Strangers in the House has a double meaning here; there are the literal strangers in Loursat’s home (the young friends of his daughter and the dead man who frequent his house at night) and the strangers that Loursat and his daughter have become despite living under the same roof � in fact she has grown from girl to capable woman without him noticing.
It is a story of awakening, of an unexpected event highlighting the difference between existing and living. He is rejuvenated by delving into the lives of the young people who snuck into his home, where the villagers expect him to be embarrassed by the public disclosure that his daughter regularly had a young man staying in her bedroom he is reminded of his own youth and pleased that they too are enjoying that carefree time. It is an unlikely love story with our main character falling in love with his village, his work, his family once again.
In synopsis it is the tale a man who bows out of life following one tragedy and is reborn following another. Not my favourite Simenon but a worthy read nonetheless.
Ostensibly this is the story of a murder and who did it but, seeing as we never meet the victim other than as a corpse and he is of dubious character, the death is only the vehicle for the true theme of the book which is the withdrawal from life. Strangers in the House has a double meaning here; there are the literal strangers in Loursat’s home (the young friends of his daughter and the dead man who frequent his house at night) and the strangers that Loursat and his daughter have become despite living under the same roof � in fact she has grown from girl to capable woman without him noticing.
It is a story of awakening, of an unexpected event highlighting the difference between existing and living. He is rejuvenated by delving into the lives of the young people who snuck into his home, where the villagers expect him to be embarrassed by the public disclosure that his daughter regularly had a young man staying in her bedroom he is reminded of his own youth and pleased that they too are enjoying that carefree time. It is an unlikely love story with our main character falling in love with his village, his work, his family once again.
In synopsis it is the tale a man who bows out of life following one tragedy and is reborn following another. Not my favourite Simenon but a worthy read nonetheless.
November 17, 2016
Imbeciles! A whole town of fools, of wretched human beings who didn't know why they were alive, who were moved along like cattle, complete with yoke and bell!
(p. 153)
(p. 153)
April 13, 2024
This is Simenon's bread and butter, a murder mystery, an investigation, a trial. But on closer inspection it's actually about a man waking up after 18 years of hiding from the world.
Hector Loursat was a gifted lawyer, married with a young baby when his wife suddenly ran off with another man. He has since spent the next 18 years in his enormous dusty mansion avoiding the world. He has no relationship with his daughter Nicole nor any of the servants that come and go including the dwarf Josephine who is essentially tasked with running the house. He is a broken man, an alcoholic, waiting for nothing.
Then he hears a shot somewhere in the house and discovers a body. What follows is a murder investigation that reveals a world unknown to him, the world of his daughter and her friends. They have apparently been having parties in his house, drinking, dancing, falling in love, without him ever knowing (or wanting to know) about it. Suddenly, he is forced to wake up, to find out what happened, to discover who these people are that have been sharing his house. But most of all he is finally finding out who his daughter, a total stranger, also is. Very quickly, her lover, Manu, is accused and Loursat agrees to defend him. He drinks less, he leaves the house more, he opens his eyes.
It's well written and very interesting but ultimately it wasn't anything special. Under normal circumstances you might dismiss it as a basic procedural, a murder mystery (not something I'm interested in), but for the fact that it's more about Loursat than anything else. Which is its saving grace. A nice little tale about middle-aged man regaining his life.
Hector Loursat was a gifted lawyer, married with a young baby when his wife suddenly ran off with another man. He has since spent the next 18 years in his enormous dusty mansion avoiding the world. He has no relationship with his daughter Nicole nor any of the servants that come and go including the dwarf Josephine who is essentially tasked with running the house. He is a broken man, an alcoholic, waiting for nothing.
Then he hears a shot somewhere in the house and discovers a body. What follows is a murder investigation that reveals a world unknown to him, the world of his daughter and her friends. They have apparently been having parties in his house, drinking, dancing, falling in love, without him ever knowing (or wanting to know) about it. Suddenly, he is forced to wake up, to find out what happened, to discover who these people are that have been sharing his house. But most of all he is finally finding out who his daughter, a total stranger, also is. Very quickly, her lover, Manu, is accused and Loursat agrees to defend him. He drinks less, he leaves the house more, he opens his eyes.
It's well written and very interesting but ultimately it wasn't anything special. Under normal circumstances you might dismiss it as a basic procedural, a murder mystery (not something I'm interested in), but for the fact that it's more about Loursat than anything else. Which is its saving grace. A nice little tale about middle-aged man regaining his life.
September 11, 2016
من این کتاب رو با فرض اینکه یه کتاب جنایی و کارآگاهیه بدست گرفتم اما گرچه فضای کلی اثر در مورد یک جنایت بود اما بیشتر باید اونو یه کتاب روانشناسانه و انسانی دونست
داستان، داستان وکیلی است که بواسطه ی جنایتی که توسط عده ای از جوونا در خونه اش انجام میشه از عزلت خودخواسته اش، بعد از فرار همسرش با یکی دیگه، بیرون می آید. کل داستان، داستان حس و حال این آدمه در قبال این آدمای جوون و جهانی که اونا توش زندگی می کنن
خلاصه اینکه به درد کسی که می خواد یه اثر جنایی بخونه نمی خوره. اما نفس داستان به نظرم خوندن داره؛ البته این در صورتی بود که مترجم و ویراستارها این اجازه رو می دادن. ترجمه از نظر معادل های فارسی گزیده شده، البته اونجا که فهمیده منظورو، مشکل خاصی نداره اما آشفتگی و بی ربطی بعضی از جملات نشون می ده که مترجم در فهم منظور متن اصلی مشکل داشته و این مشکلات انقدر هست که آزارنده بشه تو کتاب. به نظرم اگه مترجم جمله ها رو می فهمید توان لازم برای یه ترجمه با فارسی مناسب رو داشت. برای من عجیبه که ویراستارها هم به این جملاتی که آشکارا منطق ندارن واکنشی نشون ندادن. برای نمونه یه جمله رو مثال می زنم، در صفحه ی 212 آمده: «به گوسفندهای خودمان بازگردیم"، ادای چنین جمله ای وسط دادگاه آشکارا بی معنیه و مترجم متوجه نشده که این قاعد��ا اصطلاحی است فرانسوی به این معنا که: برگردیم سر بحث خودمون. امیدوارم ویرایش بشه کتاب تا بشه ازش لذت برد
داستان، داستان وکیلی است که بواسطه ی جنایتی که توسط عده ای از جوونا در خونه اش انجام میشه از عزلت خودخواسته اش، بعد از فرار همسرش با یکی دیگه، بیرون می آید. کل داستان، داستان حس و حال این آدمه در قبال این آدمای جوون و جهانی که اونا توش زندگی می کنن
خلاصه اینکه به درد کسی که می خواد یه اثر جنایی بخونه نمی خوره. اما نفس داستان به نظرم خوندن داره؛ البته این در صورتی بود که مترجم و ویراستارها این اجازه رو می دادن. ترجمه از نظر معادل های فارسی گزیده شده، البته اونجا که فهمیده منظورو، مشکل خاصی نداره اما آشفتگی و بی ربطی بعضی از جملات نشون می ده که مترجم در فهم منظور متن اصلی مشکل داشته و این مشکلات انقدر هست که آزارنده بشه تو کتاب. به نظرم اگه مترجم جمله ها رو می فهمید توان لازم برای یه ترجمه با فارسی مناسب رو داشت. برای من عجیبه که ویراستارها هم به این جملاتی که آشکارا منطق ندارن واکنشی نشون ندادن. برای نمونه یه جمله رو مثال می زنم، در صفحه ی 212 آمده: «به گوسفندهای خودمان بازگردیم"، ادای چنین جمله ای وسط دادگاه آشکارا بی معنیه و مترجم متوجه نشده که این قاعد��ا اصطلاحی است فرانسوی به این معنا که: برگردیم سر بحث خودمون. امیدوارم ویرایش بشه کتاب تا بشه ازش لذت برد
December 19, 2016
maybe like a 3.8, rounded up
Obviously had I read this novel straight through, it wouldn't have taken 15 days to do so -- I was sidetracked by Rasputin.
Most crime readers are very much into plot but in Simenon's romans durs, it's more the psychological/existentialist aspects of the characters that take center stage, and unless I'm at a point where I need fluff, that, of course, is the draw for me as a reader no matter which genre I read. The Strangers in the House highlights this distinction -- the story opens with a crime, there is an arrest, a trial and an aftermath, but this tale centers on lawyer Hector Loursat, 48, who for about 18 years after his wife had left him, has been living as a rather lethargic recluse in a small French town with his daughter Nicole. Loursat has decided to live as a "hermit," and he and his daughter have been virtual strangers her entire life, with Nicole's upbringing having been put into the hands of one of the "domestics." Lousart has during this time followed a regular routine -- several bottles of burgundy, followed by time spent reading in his study or his bedroom, and quiet dinners with his daughter where neither made any attempt at conversation.
Lousart's life is about to change, though, with the discovery of a dead stranger in his house, which also leads to his own realization about himself: that "he'd never tried to live -- not in the ordinary sense of the word."
There's much, much more, of course, but I'll leave it all for anyone who may be interested in reading this novel. While The Strangers in the House has a few minor flaws plotwise, they're pretty irrelevant -- this book is very much character driven and doesn't really revolve so much on plot details. Simenon has again given us a book that oozes atmosphere, setting and above all, a look at what PD James in her intro (which I strongly advise avoiding until the end) calls "the secret underground of the human heart," and Simenon's understanding of (as James also notes)
"the salient facts which bring alive a character or a place, inducing the reader to contribute his own imagination to that of the writer so that more is conveyed than is written."
While I enjoyed his much more, I can most certainly recommend The Strangers in the House to people who, like me, are more into reading to discover what he/she can about human nature. This one definitely speaks volumes.
Obviously had I read this novel straight through, it wouldn't have taken 15 days to do so -- I was sidetracked by Rasputin.
Most crime readers are very much into plot but in Simenon's romans durs, it's more the psychological/existentialist aspects of the characters that take center stage, and unless I'm at a point where I need fluff, that, of course, is the draw for me as a reader no matter which genre I read. The Strangers in the House highlights this distinction -- the story opens with a crime, there is an arrest, a trial and an aftermath, but this tale centers on lawyer Hector Loursat, 48, who for about 18 years after his wife had left him, has been living as a rather lethargic recluse in a small French town with his daughter Nicole. Loursat has decided to live as a "hermit," and he and his daughter have been virtual strangers her entire life, with Nicole's upbringing having been put into the hands of one of the "domestics." Lousart has during this time followed a regular routine -- several bottles of burgundy, followed by time spent reading in his study or his bedroom, and quiet dinners with his daughter where neither made any attempt at conversation.
Lousart's life is about to change, though, with the discovery of a dead stranger in his house, which also leads to his own realization about himself: that "he'd never tried to live -- not in the ordinary sense of the word."
There's much, much more, of course, but I'll leave it all for anyone who may be interested in reading this novel. While The Strangers in the House has a few minor flaws plotwise, they're pretty irrelevant -- this book is very much character driven and doesn't really revolve so much on plot details. Simenon has again given us a book that oozes atmosphere, setting and above all, a look at what PD James in her intro (which I strongly advise avoiding until the end) calls "the secret underground of the human heart," and Simenon's understanding of (as James also notes)
"the salient facts which bring alive a character or a place, inducing the reader to contribute his own imagination to that of the writer so that more is conveyed than is written."
While I enjoyed his much more, I can most certainly recommend The Strangers in the House to people who, like me, are more into reading to discover what he/she can about human nature. This one definitely speaks volumes.
January 29, 2011
Not my favorite Simenon book, but still it's interesting and quite good. Reading the plot line is actually better than the book for some reason. And again it could have been a mood thing at the time of the reading of this book. Nevertheless Georges Simenon's work is pretty amazing. He has this cold or cool overlook of everything. He really doesn't judge his characters, which is great.
January 29, 2011,
I just re-read the book and my overall thoughts are the same, but what impresses me about Simenon''s writing is how he portrays a very strange and sort of scary world. The novel takes place in France during the Occupation, yet there is no mention of it. And the main character is someone who pretty much dropped out of his culture. Once a successful and important lawyer he became a reclusive drunk in his big home. What set it off was his wife running off with someone else many years back - yet I suspect that wasn't the reason for his drinking and his disgust for the culture around him (Occupation?)
In fact he pretty much ignores the world around him - including things that go bump into his household. A murder takes place upstairs from his room, and he wasn't even aware that people were holding meetings, and leaving off stolen loot on his property. And even worse, his daughter was involved in the gang as well.
Perhaps this is sort of a symbol of the Occupation itself, where there were some who just buried their head into their lives and totally ignore their surroundings (?) The crime and narrative is not that interesting to me, but of course what is not being said directly is what's interesting about the novel. Not my favorite Simenon, but nevertheless an interesting book, in context with the world at the time.
January 29, 2011,
I just re-read the book and my overall thoughts are the same, but what impresses me about Simenon''s writing is how he portrays a very strange and sort of scary world. The novel takes place in France during the Occupation, yet there is no mention of it. And the main character is someone who pretty much dropped out of his culture. Once a successful and important lawyer he became a reclusive drunk in his big home. What set it off was his wife running off with someone else many years back - yet I suspect that wasn't the reason for his drinking and his disgust for the culture around him (Occupation?)
In fact he pretty much ignores the world around him - including things that go bump into his household. A murder takes place upstairs from his room, and he wasn't even aware that people were holding meetings, and leaving off stolen loot on his property. And even worse, his daughter was involved in the gang as well.
Perhaps this is sort of a symbol of the Occupation itself, where there were some who just buried their head into their lives and totally ignore their surroundings (?) The crime and narrative is not that interesting to me, but of course what is not being said directly is what's interesting about the novel. Not my favorite Simenon, but nevertheless an interesting book, in context with the world at the time.
March 4, 2022
A more traditional crime novel without Maigret to hold it together or drive the investigation. That said and understood this is a literary masterpiece; showing the slow decline of a popular lawyer.
Hector Loursat unfortunately is a shadow of his former self, intelligent, but he has withdrawn from social life after his wife left him for another man. He was left to bring up his two year old daughter. For these eighteen intervening years he has presented himself as a cantankerous recluse; drinking heavily, with little self respect and living more like a wounded animal than a human being.
The Strangers in the House refers to his daughters� friends, a gang of mainly young people from good families who live in a make believe world of drinking, performing outrageous stunts or dares and using Loursat’s home as a den of thieves. Nicole’s father is oblivious of these antics due to his drunken stupor and mostly using only part of the house.
However when a petty criminal is shot in one of the upstairs rooms; Loursat is awakened by the gunshot and goes to investigate.
This is a very seminal moment as it provides a fresh impetus to Loursat as he unpicks all these events, tries to understand the gang members and the circles they moved in. All the time wondering who among them fired the fatal shot.
I quickly warmed to this washed up lawyer who suddenly has a purpose and finds himself enjoying leaving the house and trying to solve the murder.
He is like a man reborn and it is as though he himself was a stranger in his own home.
The story and range of characters shows Simenon’s observations of cross sections of society, his ear for dialogue and ability to write a tense crime mystery.
It compliments his Maigret series and enhances his status as a serious author.
Hector Loursat unfortunately is a shadow of his former self, intelligent, but he has withdrawn from social life after his wife left him for another man. He was left to bring up his two year old daughter. For these eighteen intervening years he has presented himself as a cantankerous recluse; drinking heavily, with little self respect and living more like a wounded animal than a human being.
The Strangers in the House refers to his daughters� friends, a gang of mainly young people from good families who live in a make believe world of drinking, performing outrageous stunts or dares and using Loursat’s home as a den of thieves. Nicole’s father is oblivious of these antics due to his drunken stupor and mostly using only part of the house.
However when a petty criminal is shot in one of the upstairs rooms; Loursat is awakened by the gunshot and goes to investigate.
This is a very seminal moment as it provides a fresh impetus to Loursat as he unpicks all these events, tries to understand the gang members and the circles they moved in. All the time wondering who among them fired the fatal shot.
I quickly warmed to this washed up lawyer who suddenly has a purpose and finds himself enjoying leaving the house and trying to solve the murder.
He is like a man reborn and it is as though he himself was a stranger in his own home.
The story and range of characters shows Simenon’s observations of cross sections of society, his ear for dialogue and ability to write a tense crime mystery.
It compliments his Maigret series and enhances his status as a serious author.
April 26, 2022
Waking up of a drunken beauty.
Beauty as in all humans have beauty and Simenon's keen eye is one who brings out the facets in his characters like all the facets that let diamonds shine.
An ARC gently provided by author/publisher via Netgalley
Beauty as in all humans have beauty and Simenon's keen eye is one who brings out the facets in his characters like all the facets that let diamonds shine.
An ARC gently provided by author/publisher via Netgalley
December 9, 2020
Ένα από τα αγαπημένα θέματα του Σιμενόν είναι η ηθική και ψυχική κατάρρευση ανθρώπων ευυπόληπτων που τους οδηγεί στην καταστροφή. Εδώ ξεκινά με έναν άνθρωπο που έχει ήδη καταρρεύσει, έναν, φέρελπι κάποτε, καλλιεργημένο δικηγόρο από καλή οικογένεια σε μια μικρή πόλη, που ζει στο σπίτι του σαν ερημίτης για 18 χρόνια από τότε που τον εγκατέλειψε η σύζυγός του για τον εραστή της, με μοναδική συντροφιά το ποτό και τη σχεδόν αναγκαστική παρουσία μιας κόρης με την οποία έχει τυπικές σχέσεις. Αν λοιπόν σε άλλες ιστορίες του Σιμενόν παρακολουθούμε την κάθοδο, εδώ βλέπουμε την ανάδυση ενός ανθρώπου από το τέλμα, με αφορμή τον φόνο ενός αγνώστου που ζούσε τραυματισμένος δύο εβδομάδες στο σπίτι του χωρίς να τον έχει πάρει χαμπάρι.
Με μια ελλειπτική αφήγηση, που διαβάζεται απνευστί και δεν δίνει έμφαση στα εγκληματολογικά στοιχεία, αλλά στη σκιαγράφηση των χαρακτήρων και στην περιγραφή της κοινωνικής ατμόσφαιρας, η εξιχνίαση του φονικού περνά μέσα από την κατανόηση των κινήτρων των πράξεων των ανθρώπων, μια κατανόηση που είναι ιδιαίτερα απλόχερη απέναντι στους καταπιεσμένους, τους αποκλεισμένους και τους νέους. Περισσότερο κοινωνικό, παρά αστυνομικό μυθιστόρημα, «Οι άγνωστοι μέσα στο σπίτι» δείχνουν στις 250 σελίδες τους πόσο σπουδαία πένα ήταν ο Βέλγος συγγραφέας.
Με μια ελλειπτική αφήγηση, που διαβάζεται απνευστί και δεν δίνει έμφαση στα εγκληματολογικά στοιχεία, αλλά στη σκιαγράφηση των χαρακτήρων και στην περιγραφή της κοινωνικής ατμόσφαιρας, η εξιχνίαση του φονικού περνά μέσα από την κατανόηση των κινήτρων των πράξεων των ανθρώπων, μια κατανόηση που είναι ιδιαίτερα απλόχερη απέναντι στους καταπιεσμένους, τους αποκλεισμένους και τους νέους. Περισσότερο κοινωνικό, παρά αστυνομικό μυθιστόρημα, «Οι άγνωστοι μέσα στο σπίτι» δείχνουν στις 250 σελίδες τους πόσο σπουδαία πένα ήταν ο Βέλγος συγγραφέας.
March 11, 2023
When his wife left him alone with their two-year-old daughter Nicole, Hector Loursat de Saint-Marc turned away from people and toward alcohol. Although he was a prosperous attorney, he turned hermit in a town in which most of the well-off residents were relatives. One day, Loursat hears a shot in his house. He is shocked to discover a dead man he did not know lying in a third floor bed.
That is the start of one of 's greatest novels, . What had started as a slap in the face to the eminent lawyer for not knowing the goings on in his own house ends up being his salvation. Nicole's boyfriend is charged with the crime. When Loursat decides to defend him, peoples' attitudes toward him begin to change. And he gets the boyfriend off the hook for the crime. In the end, he is still something of a hermit and still something of a lush -- but he is also a formidable attorney.
That is the start of one of 's greatest novels, . What had started as a slap in the face to the eminent lawyer for not knowing the goings on in his own house ends up being his salvation. Nicole's boyfriend is charged with the crime. When Loursat decides to defend him, peoples' attitudes toward him begin to change. And he gets the boyfriend off the hook for the crime. In the end, he is still something of a hermit and still something of a lush -- but he is also a formidable attorney.
November 7, 2021
I am so pleased that Penguin Classics is publishing a collection of Simenon’s ‘romans durs� and have read several. This is up there with the best of them as it has all the features of his writing that I have come to admire. No wasted words and no padding create an intense atmosphere. It is nearly always night-time and raining, and the town and the house itself are dark and forbidding, just waiting for a mysterious murder to take place.
The characters are all shady in their own way, hiding their thoughts and nursing individual grievances. None more so than Hector Loursat and his gradual emergence from years of sulking and resentment is central to the novel.
To shake himself, shake off the straw from his pigsty, shake off the dubious smells that still clung to his skin, the sourness of his ego which had stewed for too long within book-lined walls.
And to charge ahead �..
He had discovered people, smells, sounds, shops, lights, feelings, a magma, a swarming life that didn’t resemble classical tragedies, fools who were passionate and unexpected, indefinable relationships between people and things, windy street corners, a lingering passer-by, a shop still open for some reason, and a short young man waiting nervously, waiting beneath a big clock that was familiar to the whole town for a companion who was to lead him to the future �.
I thought the courtroom scenes were particularly well done - more impressions and reactions than wordy testimony. Loursat’s moment of redemption and I loved that in his new-found enthusiasm he even considered putting himself forward to represent another case.
A terrific read and highly recommended. With thanks to Penguin Classics via NetGalley for the opportunity to read an ARC.
The characters are all shady in their own way, hiding their thoughts and nursing individual grievances. None more so than Hector Loursat and his gradual emergence from years of sulking and resentment is central to the novel.
To shake himself, shake off the straw from his pigsty, shake off the dubious smells that still clung to his skin, the sourness of his ego which had stewed for too long within book-lined walls.
And to charge ahead �..
He had discovered people, smells, sounds, shops, lights, feelings, a magma, a swarming life that didn’t resemble classical tragedies, fools who were passionate and unexpected, indefinable relationships between people and things, windy street corners, a lingering passer-by, a shop still open for some reason, and a short young man waiting nervously, waiting beneath a big clock that was familiar to the whole town for a companion who was to lead him to the future �.
I thought the courtroom scenes were particularly well done - more impressions and reactions than wordy testimony. Loursat’s moment of redemption and I loved that in his new-found enthusiasm he even considered putting himself forward to represent another case.
A terrific read and highly recommended. With thanks to Penguin Classics via NetGalley for the opportunity to read an ARC.
November 8, 2021
I am slightly ambivalent about The Strangers In The House. A good deal of it was excellent, but there are aspects I wasn’t so keen on.
First published 1940, it’s a story with a pretty well-worn trope at its heart: a misanthropic recluse forced back into daily life by circumstance and beginning to live again. This part, Simenon does with great subtlety and considerable insight, I think, as a murder in the house of lawyer Hector Loursat brings him inevitably back into contact with the pre-war small-town society he has shunned and despised for so long. I found the portrait of Loursat, of his small household and of the bourgeoisie of the town very convincing and rather gripping. Curiously, the story of the murder seemed much less successful � especially its courtroom denouement which didn’t ring true at all � which meant that the book rather lost its way for me, although the central thread of Loursat’s character continued to be very well done.
I have been somewhat dubious about all of Simenon’s non-Maigret books that I have read; this was one of the better ones for me. I see that John Banville has described it as a masterpiece and it does carry many of the hallmarks of Banville’s own work in its intense study of the minutiae of a character’s behaviour and personality, although it has a commendable concision which Banville often lacks. I can’t agree that it’s a masterpiece, but it has enough real quality to be an involving and rewarding read which I can recommend.
(My thanks to Penguin Books for an ARC via NetGalley.)
First published 1940, it’s a story with a pretty well-worn trope at its heart: a misanthropic recluse forced back into daily life by circumstance and beginning to live again. This part, Simenon does with great subtlety and considerable insight, I think, as a murder in the house of lawyer Hector Loursat brings him inevitably back into contact with the pre-war small-town society he has shunned and despised for so long. I found the portrait of Loursat, of his small household and of the bourgeoisie of the town very convincing and rather gripping. Curiously, the story of the murder seemed much less successful � especially its courtroom denouement which didn’t ring true at all � which meant that the book rather lost its way for me, although the central thread of Loursat’s character continued to be very well done.
I have been somewhat dubious about all of Simenon’s non-Maigret books that I have read; this was one of the better ones for me. I see that John Banville has described it as a masterpiece and it does carry many of the hallmarks of Banville’s own work in its intense study of the minutiae of a character’s behaviour and personality, although it has a commendable concision which Banville often lacks. I can’t agree that it’s a masterpiece, but it has enough real quality to be an involving and rewarding read which I can recommend.
(My thanks to Penguin Books for an ARC via NetGalley.)
August 15, 2017
Gli sconosciuti in casa
C’� un lieve ma significativo scarto fra il titolo originale di questo romanzo e la versione italiana.
Il termine “Intrusi� presenta l’accezione negativa di chi si introduce abusivamente e indesiderato (ad esempio nell’abitazione di una famiglia rispettabile) con intento disonesto , e forse si addice a qualche personaggio del libro, ma “Sconosciuti in casa� potrebbe invece alludere a tutt’altro tipo di persona, compresi gli stessi familiari o le donne di servizio ed ecco che allora il significato si allarga e assume dimensioni che coinvolgono la psicologia del protagonista e delle persone a lui vicine (non intruse ma rivelatesi imprevedibilmente sconosciute, estranee, oscure)
Può sembrare una pignoleria ma il romanzo di Simenon, benché non annoverabile fra i suoi migliori soprattutto a causa del mediocre e invadente risvolto poliziesco, vive di sfumature e allusioni, come avviene sempre o quasi nelle sue opere prive della figura del Commissario Maigret, i cosiddetti “romans durs�.
Ci sono le sfumature create dal talento dell’autore nel rivelarci con pochissime ma precise pennellate la vita malinconica e grigia di una cittadina avvolta da un’atmosfera costantemente autunnale, (il suono sull’asfalto bagnato degli pneumatici delle rare automobili percepite oltre la finestra, il cinemino semideserto con la bigliettaia intirizzita, un ombrello che svolta il marciapiede d’angolo visto dall’orlo di una tenda, le bettole di periferia dalla luce opaca e ambigua) suggestioni che ricorrono e talora distraggono l’attenzione dell’avvocato Loursat, spesso avvolto da una nube di fumo e di Bourgogne.
E nello stesso Loursat abbiamo un ulteriore esempio della galleria di tormentati protagonisti nati dalla penna di Simenon, un uomo che da quasi vent’anni vive in un’ampia e cadente dimora quasi da recluso dopo l’improvviso abbandono della moglie e che un evento imprevisto proietterà inaspettatamente verso la vita: “…così si mette a perlustrare la città. Scopre persone, odori, suoni, negozi, luci, sentimenti�.
Ma una particolarità decisiva nella figura dell’avvocato Loustat rispetto alla maggior parte degli antieroi simenoniani è che il percorso interiore dell’uomo nel corso del romanzo, invece di precipitare nel buio e nel pessimismo (come i protagonisti degli ultimi due Simenon che ho letto: “Il piccolo libraio di Archangelsk� e “Le signorine di Concarneau�) procede verso una sorta di riscatto, una rinnovata curiosità per il mondo e le sue imperfette creature da parte di una sensibilità che sembrava definitivamente ottenebrata e smarrita.
C’� un lieve ma significativo scarto fra il titolo originale di questo romanzo e la versione italiana.
Il termine “Intrusi� presenta l’accezione negativa di chi si introduce abusivamente e indesiderato (ad esempio nell’abitazione di una famiglia rispettabile) con intento disonesto , e forse si addice a qualche personaggio del libro, ma “Sconosciuti in casa� potrebbe invece alludere a tutt’altro tipo di persona, compresi gli stessi familiari o le donne di servizio ed ecco che allora il significato si allarga e assume dimensioni che coinvolgono la psicologia del protagonista e delle persone a lui vicine (non intruse ma rivelatesi imprevedibilmente sconosciute, estranee, oscure)
Può sembrare una pignoleria ma il romanzo di Simenon, benché non annoverabile fra i suoi migliori soprattutto a causa del mediocre e invadente risvolto poliziesco, vive di sfumature e allusioni, come avviene sempre o quasi nelle sue opere prive della figura del Commissario Maigret, i cosiddetti “romans durs�.
Ci sono le sfumature create dal talento dell’autore nel rivelarci con pochissime ma precise pennellate la vita malinconica e grigia di una cittadina avvolta da un’atmosfera costantemente autunnale, (il suono sull’asfalto bagnato degli pneumatici delle rare automobili percepite oltre la finestra, il cinemino semideserto con la bigliettaia intirizzita, un ombrello che svolta il marciapiede d’angolo visto dall’orlo di una tenda, le bettole di periferia dalla luce opaca e ambigua) suggestioni che ricorrono e talora distraggono l’attenzione dell’avvocato Loursat, spesso avvolto da una nube di fumo e di Bourgogne.
E nello stesso Loursat abbiamo un ulteriore esempio della galleria di tormentati protagonisti nati dalla penna di Simenon, un uomo che da quasi vent’anni vive in un’ampia e cadente dimora quasi da recluso dopo l’improvviso abbandono della moglie e che un evento imprevisto proietterà inaspettatamente verso la vita: “…così si mette a perlustrare la città. Scopre persone, odori, suoni, negozi, luci, sentimenti�.
Ma una particolarità decisiva nella figura dell’avvocato Loustat rispetto alla maggior parte degli antieroi simenoniani è che il percorso interiore dell’uomo nel corso del romanzo, invece di precipitare nel buio e nel pessimismo (come i protagonisti degli ultimi due Simenon che ho letto: “Il piccolo libraio di Archangelsk� e “Le signorine di Concarneau�) procede verso una sorta di riscatto, una rinnovata curiosità per il mondo e le sue imperfette creature da parte di una sensibilità che sembrava definitivamente ottenebrata e smarrita.
April 3, 2017
The plot of this detective novel is not particularly surprising. What makes it superior to most is the deceptively simple style, which approaches things from odd angles, sketches characters with a few perfect strokes, and evokes interior and exterior environments with great vividness. Simenon summarizes (I think) his own book this way: the detective, who had been a recluse for 18 years, ventured out to discover "a new world, new people, new sounds and smells, new thoughts, new feelings, a swarming, writhing world, which had no relation to the epics and tragedies of literature, one that was full of all those mysterious and generally trivial details you don't find in books--the breath of cold air in a dirty back alley, the loiterer on a street corner, a shop remaining open long after all others had closed..."
July 13, 2020
Un altro “poliziesco� atipico, in cui l’intreccio è solo uno sfondo, quasi la scusa per poter indagare l’animo umano, in questo caso quello di un grande protagonista, l’avvocato Loursat, e, attraverso il suo sguardo acuto e sensibile, il mondo chiuso, umido, fangoso e stagnante della provincia francese. Nonostante Loursat appaia immobile e inconcludente, volontariamente recluso nel suo mondo polveroso, volontariamente incurante della propria persona e di ogni rapporto umano, la sua capacità di comprendere la vita, le pulsioni, frustrazioni e desideri che accompagnano ogni esistenza, è intatta, anzi l’avvocato si dimostra più acuto e attento di chi ha condotto una vita sociale apparentemente più vivace e aperta. Un breve romanzo (in proporzione più lunga questa mia recensione) denso e concentrato che deluderà chi cerca un giallo tradizionale ma piacerà molto a chi si lascerà guidare dall’autore nella fine indagine psicologica dei suoi personaggi.
May 5, 2012
Good but not as engrossing as the other romans durs of Simenon I've read. A father (Loursat) sequesters himself in his large home after his wife leaves, barely communicating with his servants and daughter (who's two at the time). He drinks and broods and seeks no one's company for years. A murder in his house changes the balance of things in the household and Loursat, a lawyer, even decides to take on the defense of his daughter's unjustly accused young lover.
There is much here about the petite and haute bourgeousie, small town life, the deadening of doing what's expected. And there's the beauty of Loursat springing back to life: "He had the impression of plunging back into life. He did things he had long since forgotten--or that he still did, only without realizing he was doing them--like turning up his overcoat collar, thrusting his hands deep in the pockets, and savoring the cold and the rain, the strange reflections of the sparkling streets."
Very much unlike the other novels of his I've read. Not as gripping nor as suspenseful (much of the novel is the trial itself) but worth reading.
There is much here about the petite and haute bourgeousie, small town life, the deadening of doing what's expected. And there's the beauty of Loursat springing back to life: "He had the impression of plunging back into life. He did things he had long since forgotten--or that he still did, only without realizing he was doing them--like turning up his overcoat collar, thrusting his hands deep in the pockets, and savoring the cold and the rain, the strange reflections of the sparkling streets."
Very much unlike the other novels of his I've read. Not as gripping nor as suspenseful (much of the novel is the trial itself) but worth reading.
March 4, 2018
Eighteen years ago lawyer Hector Loursat's wife ran off with another man, and ever since then Loursat has lived in a state of alienation from the world, ignoring even his daughter Nicole as he devotes his days to reading books and downing prodigious quantities of red wine. But one night there's a murder in his house, a murder that clearly has much to do with Nicole and the bunch of childishly criminal friends she has, without Loursat's knowledge, gathered around her. When the cops arrest Emile, Nicole's lover (another surprise for Loursat!), the old man is finally moved to become a father once more to his daughter, rejoin the world and mount Emile's legal defense.
I was fairly familiar with the story, having seen two of the (at least) four movies based on it: Les Inconnus dans la Maison (1942) and the much inferior Stranger in the House (1967). At some stage I'd very much like to see the Georges Lautner remake, Les Inconnus dans la Maison (1992), with Jean-Paul Belmondo.
I found this novel completely absorbing and yet at the same time I was aware of its flaws. It might be unfair to say that, had it been written originally in English by Joe Schmoe and offered around to publishers today, it could have had a little difficulty in finding a taker. This is not just because the translation is a bit stiff (it dates from 1951, although apparently with later revisions) but because there's an air of unreality about the proceedings and the characters. I actually found that this air of unreality was part of what kept me rapt, but it does detract from The Strangers in the House as a mystery novel.
And that's not the only reason to quibble. Loursat solves the crime not through any real act of deduction on his part but because an out-of-left-field witness sends him a note telling him the killer confessed to her in a moment of weakness. Moreover, we're never given any motivation the murderer might have had for the killing -- Loursat just shrugs the matter off as something that'll undoubtedly emerge at some point in the future but that's not worth bothering with now. In other words, there's no opening at all for the reader to try to deduce the identity of the villain. Of course, one could say that in this respect the tale is more like real life, but then this clashes with the sense of unreality I mentioned above . . .
Of course, there's absolutely no reason why a novel should be compelled to fit into a genre straitjacket! Yet The Strangers in the House does presents itself as a crime/mystery novel -- or a psychological study along those lines -- so it's reasonable to respond to it accordingly.
All of that said, and my various reservations noted, I did thoroughly enjoy the book. Every time I finish reading a Simenon novel I tell myself I should read him more often, and this is no exception. Perhaps I should follow the example of my blogging friend and indulge in a concerted Maigretiad!
I was fairly familiar with the story, having seen two of the (at least) four movies based on it: Les Inconnus dans la Maison (1942) and the much inferior Stranger in the House (1967). At some stage I'd very much like to see the Georges Lautner remake, Les Inconnus dans la Maison (1992), with Jean-Paul Belmondo.
I found this novel completely absorbing and yet at the same time I was aware of its flaws. It might be unfair to say that, had it been written originally in English by Joe Schmoe and offered around to publishers today, it could have had a little difficulty in finding a taker. This is not just because the translation is a bit stiff (it dates from 1951, although apparently with later revisions) but because there's an air of unreality about the proceedings and the characters. I actually found that this air of unreality was part of what kept me rapt, but it does detract from The Strangers in the House as a mystery novel.
And that's not the only reason to quibble. Loursat solves the crime not through any real act of deduction on his part but because an out-of-left-field witness sends him a note telling him the killer confessed to her in a moment of weakness. Moreover, we're never given any motivation the murderer might have had for the killing -- Loursat just shrugs the matter off as something that'll undoubtedly emerge at some point in the future but that's not worth bothering with now. In other words, there's no opening at all for the reader to try to deduce the identity of the villain. Of course, one could say that in this respect the tale is more like real life, but then this clashes with the sense of unreality I mentioned above . . .
Of course, there's absolutely no reason why a novel should be compelled to fit into a genre straitjacket! Yet The Strangers in the House does presents itself as a crime/mystery novel -- or a psychological study along those lines -- so it's reasonable to respond to it accordingly.
All of that said, and my various reservations noted, I did thoroughly enjoy the book. Every time I finish reading a Simenon novel I tell myself I should read him more often, and this is no exception. Perhaps I should follow the example of my blogging friend and indulge in a concerted Maigretiad!
February 22, 2014
There is in all the novels of Simenon a high weight on his characters. They are not free. They are the toys of their destiny. They evolve to their inevitable tragedy because they are resigned to being the slave of their passion. There is Greek tragedy in these novels.
One summer I decide to read all Simenon's book in Pléiade collection.
There is something which trouble me in this incapacity to be able to act on his fate.
I think we have always the choice.
However Simenon is an immense writer and not only for thrillers. This one tells the history of a kind of redemption for an alcoholic lawyer. It was published in 1940 and first movie adaptation (with the great actor Harry Baur) in 1941 when France was occupied. It's not hazard if Nazi's censure accept this. Film was interdict at the Libération.
One summer I decide to read all Simenon's book in Pléiade collection.
There is something which trouble me in this incapacity to be able to act on his fate.
I think we have always the choice.
However Simenon is an immense writer and not only for thrillers. This one tells the history of a kind of redemption for an alcoholic lawyer. It was published in 1940 and first movie adaptation (with the great actor Harry Baur) in 1941 when France was occupied. It's not hazard if Nazi's censure accept this. Film was interdict at the Libération.
December 23, 2024
« La situazione era assai delicata: infatti, benché fosse sempre ubriaco e vivesse come un orso, Loursat faceva pur sempre parte della buona società.
Non frequentava i salotti, è vero, ma non aveva rotto i rapporti con nessuno, e quando lo incontravano per la strada o in tribunale tutti gli stringevano la mano.
Se beveva, lo faceva da solo, rintanato nella sua tana, senza dare scandalo.
All'inizio nessuno si era accorto di niente quando, diciotto anni prima, sua moglie se n'era andata, alla vigilia di Natale, lasciandolo solo con una bambina di due anni. La gente, malgrado tutto, ne aveva perfino sorriso. Per settimane e settimane, Loursat non aveva voluto vedere nessuno ».
4 ⭐️ Inizia un po� così e così ma poi prende una bellissima piega, nel senso che entra nel clou del crime circa a metà libro. Come sempre, grande Simenon!
May 23, 2008
Until this spring, I'd never read anything by Georges Simenon, the indecently prolific (400 books?!) author of the popular Maigret detective stories, as well as shelves of romans dur � hard Hobbesian parables (solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short) of mid-20th century misery. I still haven't read Maigret, but I've become addicted to the romans dur, mostly because New York Review of Books has been republishing them in stylish, haute-noir paperbacks.
I started with Three Bedrooms in Manhattan, then sped through The Engagement (source for Leconte's great late 80s movie Monsieur Hire), The Man Who Watched Trains Go By, Dirty Snow, Tropic Moon, and most recently, Red Lights. I savored each of them but I think this book, The Strangers in the House, is my favorite.
Simenon seems to block out his plots like a sculptor hewing out chunks of rock. Most of his characters have a chiseled stony quality that precludes sympathy or sentimentality. Almost. Hector Loursat, the stranger at the heart of this book ("dirty, drunk, unloved and unloving" according to the blurb), redeems himself � something most Simenon characters would find inconceivable. Even more than the others, this roman is deliciously bitter � as in ultra-dark chocolate, not sour grapes.
I started with Three Bedrooms in Manhattan, then sped through The Engagement (source for Leconte's great late 80s movie Monsieur Hire), The Man Who Watched Trains Go By, Dirty Snow, Tropic Moon, and most recently, Red Lights. I savored each of them but I think this book, The Strangers in the House, is my favorite.
Simenon seems to block out his plots like a sculptor hewing out chunks of rock. Most of his characters have a chiseled stony quality that precludes sympathy or sentimentality. Almost. Hector Loursat, the stranger at the heart of this book ("dirty, drunk, unloved and unloving" according to the blurb), redeems himself � something most Simenon characters would find inconceivable. Even more than the others, this roman is deliciously bitter � as in ultra-dark chocolate, not sour grapes.
November 8, 2021
Simenon is known for the Maigret novels however is standalone fiction/crime is up there with Maigret; the quality of the writing and plotting are exceptional making his work a joy to read. Simenon writes the psychology of characters really well, they are believable, with their dark sides being totally convincing. The Stranger in the House is Simenon at his creative best; Hector Loursat is a reclusive lawyer who has hidden from the world and his daughter ever since his wife left him for another man. However, Loursat finds himself thrust into the centre of a murder investigation when he discovers that his daughter has been inviting a group of friends to party at his house without his knowledge, when the group drunkenly run over a man they take him to the house so that he can heal, unfortunately the man is murdered.
Exceptionally good.
Exceptionally good.
August 4, 2023
I’m going to the Capital Crime literature festival in London at the start of September, and word has it that Georges Simenon is essential reading for a grounding on the genre. Hence this, my first Simenon novel.
The detective at the centre of the case is not Maigret, but Hector Loursat de Saint Marc (age 48).
There is a murder, and there is a “whodunnit� investigation. The crime element, though, is clearly not the essence of this novel.
Given that this was written in 1940 I was surprised at the rather bohemian flavour of the cast of characters which I would not have thought to be present at the outset of European war.
There’s something rather arresting about the thought that one’s own offspring could run a secret life under the nose of the home owner. Nicole, daughter to Loursat has a name for her hang out: the Chaos Bar!!
I enjoyed the book well enough (it wasn’t amazing) but regardless of this ostensibly being a crime novel.
The condition of man is one expertly described in many of the Graham Greene novels that I have read, and although Loursat does not have religion, he is consumed by introspective thoughts, of past times, regrets, and the acceptable grubbiness(to him) of where he has ended up in life.
With the exception of the reclusive alcohol sodden Loursat, the descriptions of the supporting cast were a bit lightweight I thought. The one exception is for a character with a small, and incidental part in the unfolding drama- that is Judge Niquet. He is revealed to the reader exclusively through his striking looks.
We first meet him with the description � the chin was exactly as broad as the rest of his face, as well as being flat� (159)
This is amplified as the court verdict is revealed and Niquet pronounces: ”with his vast chin and his mouth like a sabre slash�(194)
I gather that Simenon wrote very specific novel types (in an extensive, prodigious output) and that The Strangers In The House was one of his literary, or hard, novels, his “Romans dur".
Critics summarise his work as that of the naked man looking in the mirror, and of dark, sinister, corners of the mind. His stock in trade was Parisian street life, and the drudgery of domestic service and the reality of casual prostitution.
All that is contained in this book, which is a study of life, largely squandered, rather than a book about crime.
The detective at the centre of the case is not Maigret, but Hector Loursat de Saint Marc (age 48).
There is a murder, and there is a “whodunnit� investigation. The crime element, though, is clearly not the essence of this novel.
Given that this was written in 1940 I was surprised at the rather bohemian flavour of the cast of characters which I would not have thought to be present at the outset of European war.
There’s something rather arresting about the thought that one’s own offspring could run a secret life under the nose of the home owner. Nicole, daughter to Loursat has a name for her hang out: the Chaos Bar!!
I enjoyed the book well enough (it wasn’t amazing) but regardless of this ostensibly being a crime novel.
The condition of man is one expertly described in many of the Graham Greene novels that I have read, and although Loursat does not have religion, he is consumed by introspective thoughts, of past times, regrets, and the acceptable grubbiness(to him) of where he has ended up in life.
With the exception of the reclusive alcohol sodden Loursat, the descriptions of the supporting cast were a bit lightweight I thought. The one exception is for a character with a small, and incidental part in the unfolding drama- that is Judge Niquet. He is revealed to the reader exclusively through his striking looks.
We first meet him with the description � the chin was exactly as broad as the rest of his face, as well as being flat� (159)
This is amplified as the court verdict is revealed and Niquet pronounces: ”with his vast chin and his mouth like a sabre slash�(194)
I gather that Simenon wrote very specific novel types (in an extensive, prodigious output) and that The Strangers In The House was one of his literary, or hard, novels, his “Romans dur".
Critics summarise his work as that of the naked man looking in the mirror, and of dark, sinister, corners of the mind. His stock in trade was Parisian street life, and the drudgery of domestic service and the reality of casual prostitution.
All that is contained in this book, which is a study of life, largely squandered, rather than a book about crime.
April 1, 2020
“La verità era che lui non aveva mai neppure tentato di vivere�
Un avvocato di successo, dedito ormai da molto tempo all’alcool in seguito all’abbandono della moglie, vive nascosto nell’ombra delle quattro mura del suo studio. Una notte il suo precario mondo si squarcia con un colpo di pistola sparato proprio nella sua casa. Scoprirà così che la figlia, cresciuta da sola e abbandonata a se stessa, fa parte di una banda di giovani scalmanati del paese dediti ad alcool furti e scorribande notturne e capaci di commettere un omicidio. Ed è questo mondo che lo sconcerta, e di cui lui in qualche modo si sente parte e responsabile, che lo attira, che cerca di penetrare, rendendosi conto all’improvviso che c’� vita fuori dalla sua solitudine e dal suo ottenebramento di sensi. Un lavoro su se stesso che lo porta a perdersi per poi, in qualche modo ritrovarsi. Uno studio attento di Simenon, ancora una volta, sull’animo umano.
Un avvocato di successo, dedito ormai da molto tempo all’alcool in seguito all’abbandono della moglie, vive nascosto nell’ombra delle quattro mura del suo studio. Una notte il suo precario mondo si squarcia con un colpo di pistola sparato proprio nella sua casa. Scoprirà così che la figlia, cresciuta da sola e abbandonata a se stessa, fa parte di una banda di giovani scalmanati del paese dediti ad alcool furti e scorribande notturne e capaci di commettere un omicidio. Ed è questo mondo che lo sconcerta, e di cui lui in qualche modo si sente parte e responsabile, che lo attira, che cerca di penetrare, rendendosi conto all’improvviso che c’� vita fuori dalla sua solitudine e dal suo ottenebramento di sensi. Un lavoro su se stesso che lo porta a perdersi per poi, in qualche modo ritrovarsi. Uno studio attento di Simenon, ancora una volta, sull’animo umano.
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