Day: July 23, 2019 | Chief Inspector Gamache Series

The Annotated Three Pines: The Long Way Home

Post author By Christopher Melvin
Post date July 23, 2019
50 Comments on The Annotated Three Pines: The Long Way Home

From Pg. 8
The homes formed a circle, and in its center was the village green. And in the center of that were the pine trees that soared over the community. Three great spires that inspired the name. Three Pines. These were no ordinary trees. Planted centuries ago, they were a code. A signal to the war- weary.

Louise’s Thoughts:
It’s funny how we pick up ideas, isn’t it? I sat beside an elderly stranger at a social, in a church basement, and she told me the story of the three pines. She had them planted in front of her house. Had been there for more than a hundred years. And that they were a signal to those loyal to the British crown, flooding across the boarded during the War of Independence, that they were safe in Canada. I heard that story years before starting to write, and always loved the symbolism of it. The kindness of the act, the awareness of how weary and confused and frightened those immigrants must’ve been. And then, the unimaginable power of knowing they were safe. Unbeknownst to me, in the church basement over dinner with a stranger, the seeds not just of the village, but the themes of Three Pines were planted.

From Pg. 10
She passed this small mystery every day on her walks with Armand. They walked past the old school house, where Armand had almost been killed. They walked through the woods, where Armand had killed. Each of them very aware of the events. Every day they turned around and returned to the quiet village and the bench above it. And the words carved into it by some unknown hand — Surprised by Joy

Louise’s Thoughts:
The recurring theme of unexpected gifts. Of the kindness and grace of strangers. That someone would know the significance of that phrase not just for Armand, but for the whole village. How very healing it is. It comes, as you might know, from the title of a CS Lewis book. And was Michael’s favourite saying. A recurring theme in our lives together, and beyond. Surprised by Joy. Who’d have thought there could be so much joy? And so many surprises.

From Pg. 39
“There is a balm in Gilead,” she read from the back, “to make the wounded whole—”
“There’s power enough in Heaven / To cure a sin-sick soul.” Armand Gamache finished the phrase. “It’s from an old spiritual.”
Clara stared at the back cover. “Do you believe it, Armand?”
“Yes.” He took the book from her and grasped it so tightly in one hand she half expected words to squeeze out.
“Then what are you struggling with?” When he didn’t answer, she had her answer.

Louise’s Thoughts:
Love, love, love that spiritual. Hope. Healing. And for Armand, at this point in his life, so wounded deep down, there is comfort. THE LONG WAY HOME is one of my personal favourite books, perhaps because it’s very quiet. Inverted even, like the cover. We travel deeper and deeper, into the search for Peter, into Quebec, and into Armand’s pain. But always, always, with awareness, that there is a balm, that can make the wounded whole. I’m often asked about the book Armand is reading and if it’s a real book. It is not. Just something I made up.

From Pg. 74
Myrna found it strangely calming. Her mother’s and grandmother’s comfort smells were cut grass and fresh baking and the subtle scent of line- dried sheets. For Myrna’s generation the smells that calmed were manufactured. Melting asphalt meant summer. VapoRub meant winter, and being cared for. There were Tang and gas fumes and long- gone photocopy ink.

Louise’s Thoughts:
I love writing about scents, and often try to put in references in each book. So powerful, so evocative. The past is immediately made present, with certain aromas. And with that magic come strong feelings. How impressed we are, without even realizing it, until years later we’re walking along a street and catch a scent, and are immediately transported. The Three Pines books are about mysteries, not all of them crimes.

From Pg. 43
Gamache grinned. Each time they used dial-up in Three Pines— the only way to connect since no other signal reached this hidden village— the Chief would remind Jean-Guy that once even dial-up had seemed a miracle. Not a nuisance.

Louise’s Thoughts:
Now, this is something I’ve changed slightly, as technology has improved. It seemed unreasonable that Three Pines would not have better coverage. Though for many years, much longer than the rest of the world it seemed, Michael and I could only connect using dial-up. We lived in the middle of nowhere, in blessed countryside. The sounds of nature only interrupted by the screech of the connection being made. And our swearing. Until, like Gamache with Beauvoir, we had to remind each other that this was still pretty amazing.

Postcards

The Annotated Three Pines: The Nature of the Beast

Post author By Christopher Melvin
Post date July 23, 2019
36 Comments on The Annotated Three Pines: The Nature of the Beast

From Pg. 30
“Partly, but I run a bookstore,” said Myrna, looking at the row upon row of books, lining the walls and creating corridors in the open space. “So many of them were banned and burned. That one,” she pointed to the Fahrenheit 451 Clara still had in her hands. “To Kill a Mockingbird. The Adventures of Huck Finn. Even The Diary of Anne Frank. All banned by people who believed they were in the right. Could we be wrong?”
“You’re not banning it,” said Clara. “He’s allowed to write and you’re allowed to pull your support.”

Louise’s Thoughts:
Ongoing questions, uncomfortable questions I struggle with but always seem to clear to others, of where the line is. What is taking a strong stand, and what is violating the rights of others? People I disagree with. People whose opinions I vehemently disagree with and even believe might be dangerous? When is it ok to cross the line between vocally disagreeing, and censoring? Mark Twain once said, “Your right to swing your fist ends where my face begins”. This seems like a reasonable and clear definition of the limit of rights. But – we all have different sensitivities. Where something might hurt me, it might not hurt someone else. My “face” perhaps should not be the deciding factor. (Clearly here, I’m not talking about physical abuse, where a fist in the face is not debatable.)

From Pg. 34
If anyone believed in second chances, it was the man who sat before her. She’d been his friend and his unofficial therapist. She’d heard his deepest secrets, and she’d heard his most profound beliefs, and his greatest fears. But now she wondered if she’d really heard them all. And she wondered what demons might be nesting deep inside this man, who specialized in murder.

Louise’s Thoughts:
I love writing the scenes between Armand and Myrna. Their conversations about the human condition, about what drives people to do what they do. Their mutual respect, and complete trust.

From Pg. 53
This isn’t our parents’ generation, Armand. Now people have many chapters to their lives. When I stopped being a therapist I asked myself one question. What do I really want to do? Not for my friends, not for my family. Not for perfect strangers. But for me. Finally. It was my turn, my time.

Louise’s Thoughts:
Now this is a question that, on the surface, should be easy for a person in late middle-age to answer. What do I really want? What gives me pleasure. And yet, I’ve found it’s surprisingly difficult to answer. We’re just so imbued with the expectations of others. Of parents, of teachers, of neighbours, of the broader society. The start of this realization came shortly after I met Michael. We were at the Montreal Symphony, using his season tickets. As we left he turned to me and said, “I don’t think I like going to the symphony.” He went on to say that he’d sat there and realized his parents had taken him, then his first wife had taken him, and he’d never asked the question….what does he want? He was 61 years old at the time, and I was astonished. Then I began questioning my choices, as an adult, and realized how much of it was driven by what others told me I should be doing. What do you want? Hmmmm.

From Pg. 136
But suspicion was inevitable and often turned out to be true. People were almost always killed by someone they knew, and knew well, which compounded the tragedy and was probably why, Gamache thought, so many murder victims did not look frightened. They looked surprised.

Louise’s Thoughts:
One of the challenges of writing the books and, as it turns out, the great pleasures, is getting inside Gamache’s head. Seeing what he sees. Feeling what he feels, or imagining it anyway. What has been his experience? Trying to imagine years and years of investigating murders, investigating people.

From Pg. 168
Clara knew that grief took a terrible toll. It was paid at every birthday, every holiday, each Christmas. It was paid when glimpsing the familiar handwriting, or a hat, or a balled-up sock. Or hearing a creak that could have been, should have been, a footstep. Grief took its toll each morning, each evening, every noon hour as those who were left behind struggled forward.

Louise’s Thoughts:
I wrote this passage, this book, as Michael slipped further and further into dementia. As horrific as that was, there was also some comfort in knowing this pain brought us closer to others. That far from being alone, we were among the majority of people, who’d lost ones they loved. And lived in grief. I was, and am, so lucky on so many levels, including being able to turn that grief into a book. Rather than just writing from the head, I can write from the very core.

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