INTRODUCTION BY SARAH MELNYK
When I came to Minotaur as a publicist in 2008, I was told that soon I’d begin working with the talented Louise Penny. I was handed a galley of A Rule Against Murder. It was July, and I dove into this wonderful summertime mystery, entranced. I had the utmost pleasure reading it, with its enchanting prose, exquisite storytelling, and a vivid cast of characters. Ghostly father figures lurk, their children left behind to ponder their anxieties and disappointments. Nothing is quite as it seems. I luxuriated in the setting of the Quebec forest with its creatures and secrets, the sprawling Manoir Bellechasse, and the strange Morrow family, who share DNA, a mutual distrust of one another, and not much else. And I met the Gamaches for the first time . . . Reine-Marie and Armand, celebrating their anniversary. Their loving union was a poetic and clever foil to the Morrows’ quiet hostility toward one another. I was hooked.
Those who have read Louise Penny’s books always remember their first one. A Rule Against Murder will always be one of my favorites for this reason. It does not take place in the beloved Three Pines, true, but Louise begins a journey here that explores Quebec and its history a bit deeper. To do this, we have to leave Three Pines from time to time.
I still remember speaking to Louise on the phone for the first time that late July. What was to come of that conversation was one of the most rewarding relationships I’ve found since becoming a publicist. We brainstormed about strategy for her new book, and I came away once again entranced, but also energized. That conversation that was the first of many fun strategy conversations with one of the cleverest minds I know. Many have asked me what it is like to work with Louise Penny. It is the same as reading one of her books: it is a powerful―and empowering―experience, sprinkled with some mischievous laughter along the way.
RECAP
Ch. 1-12: In the prologue, we meet the magnificent Manoir Bellechasse and its many makers, and its troublesome history before being turned into the finest auberges in Quebec. And we are forewarned: “The Robber Barons were back. They’d come to the Manoir Bellechasse once again, to kill.”
Gamache and Reine-Marie, following a decades-long tradition, have arrived at the Manoir Bellechasse to celebrate their thirty-fifth anniversary. The owner, Clementine Dubois, greets them warmly. But she apologizes and says that they unfortunately will have one of the smaller rooms in the back, as the Manoir is completely booked because of a family reunion. The Gamaches, simply happy to be there and see the ancient Madame Dubois one more year, begin their leisurely and luxurious stay. As the days pass, the Gamaches slowly get a sense of the wealthy Finneys:
Irene Finney: The Matriarch. Plump with soft white hair, with lots of white makeup to match her white complexion. “She looked like a soft, inviting, faded pillow, propped next to a cliff face.”
Bert Finney: The cliff face, Irene’s impossibly ugly husband, nearing ninety, Gamache guesses. He doesn’t say much, but seems courtly in his own way.
Thomas: The oldest brother, slim and attractive, and the most successful of all of the siblings. He’s polished yet cold, and likes to provoke his siblings.
Sandra: Thomas’ wife, seemingly bursting at the seams with insecurity and unhappiness and constantly making unreasonable demands on the staff of the Manoir Bellechasse.
Julia: The oldest daughter. Fair, lovely, and charming, she married a wealthy man, but is undergoing a divorce after his fraudulent investment practices came to light, and caused a very public scandal.
Marianna: The ugliest of all of the children, both in manners and appearance, she seems like an interloper to the family. She’s the only sibling who has a child, whom she seems to be raising in a very strange way.
Bean: Marinanna’s child, blond and beautiful, ten years old and often escaping into books and imagination. It’s not immediately apparent if Bean is a boy or a girl.
Gamache notices that this doesn’t feel like a very close or warm family. With the exception of Bert Finney, who is friendly to the Gamaches, the rest of the family seem ill at ease, trading awkward silences for subtle barbs toward one another. A couple of the Finneys surmise that Armand and his wife must be some sort of shopkeeper and cleaning woman since they were staying in a “broom closet” of a room at the Manoir.
The terrible heat and humidity feel like threat of what is to come. Pierre, the maître d’, has warned the guests that a storm is coming. What should be a relaxing retreat so far seems peppered with problems. Thomas and Julia both mention that Spot and Claire, the last of their siblings and his wife, will be arriving soon, and hint that they’re the worst ones of the family—hard to believe given what the family is like. Julia in particular is dreading it, and during an illicit smoke outside one evening, she confides to Gamache that her family makes her miserable.
Armand Gamache also hears some news from home that is unsettling for him. Reine-Marie had talked with their daughter-in-law, and learns they may name their baby after Armand’s father if it’s a boy. It’s meant to be a wonderful gesture, but to Armand, it’s troubling.
The staff at the Manoir have their own problems. Pierre, the maître d’ who has worked there for decades, is having trouble with the young Elliot. He’s one of the new servers and openly challenges Pierre’s authority, causing mischief among the ranks. Normally Pierre is exceptionally patient, and has trained young workers summer after summer, but Elliot seems a special case. Chef Veronique, who has also worked there for as long as Pierre has, tries to support the maître d’ who is also her friend, and asks him why Elliot gets to him. Pierre doesn’t have an answer.
The morning arrives that the loathsome final pair of Finneys are to arrive, but to the Gamaches’ surprise and delight, it turns out to be Peter and Clara Morrow, who they know from Three Pines. “Spot” was the nickname his siblings gave him. The two couples rejoice in seeing one another at the Manoir.
Gamache and Reine-Marie then learn from Madame Dubois that the whole family isn’t the Finney family—they are the Morrow family. Charles Morrow, Irene’s first husband, had died some time ago, and then she married Burt Finney. The children are Morrows. And the reason for this family reunion is to unveil a statue in Charles Morrow’s image that will sit forever on the grounds of the Manoir Bellechasse. Gamache had wondered about a huge marble plinth sitting very unnaturally on a corner of the grounds earlier. Soon, Madam Dubois says, the statue will arrive, and the grand unveiling will take place.
Clara especially feels uncomfortable with Peter’s refined but rude family—his mother calls her “Claire,” even after Clara being married to her son for years—and they ignore her good news that she will soon have her own solo show at the prestigious Galerie Fortin in Montreal. Clara came to the reunion to protect Peter from this horrid family, but that becomes difficult when Peter seems to regress in their presence, almost not in control of his own voice anymore—which is a source of at least one fight between the couple while they’re there.
Bean finds trouble when playing near the marble plinth and gets attacked by bees. Gamache removes the stingers and poison sacs and Reine-Marie applies calamine and kisses them better, while the rest of the Morrows stand nearby, squabbling with one another.
The big moment of the unveiling of the statue finally arrives, and is strangely anticlimactic. The Morrows say nothing after the canvas hood comes off, and continue on with their day.
The Gamaches take a look later, and are struck by the strangeness of it. The statue of Charles Morrow seems odd: While it looks as if he’s about to take a step, the figure does not look powerful and authoritative. His head is bowed, and although he’s about to say something, whatever he’s seeing has literally turned him to stone. Gamache wonders how the Morrows really feel about the statue.
That same evening, the guests are mingling and talking. The Gamaches talk breezily with Peter and Clara, and share some embarrassing news about the first time Armand met Reine-Marie’s family. Just then the rest of the Morrow children—Thomas, Marianna, and Julia—join them and overtake the conversation. Thomas throws a barb at Julia meant to hurt, and it has the desired effect—she loses her temper and rails at her siblings one by one, before saying to the room, “I know Daddy’s secret” and running outside. Reine-Marie and Gamache follow her, and through her tears, she tells them she’ll probably have to leave first thing in the morning: “They’ll never forgive me, you know.”
The storm that had been building finally hits in the middle of the night with startling force. The electricity goes out, torrential rain pounds at the windows and violent thunder and lightning attack the area. Gamache and his wife help the frazzled staff close some banging windows and doors. The storm eventually moves on, leaving behind cool breezes in its wake, and everyone goes back to bed.
The house wakes to sodden earth and drizzle, and the residents being to settle in for a lazy rainy day. But they hear terrible screams—Bean has been wandering and discovers the attic, filled with old taxidermy from the days when the inn was a hunting and fishing lodge. After Madame Dubois and the Gamaches sooth the frightened child, Irene Finney scolds Bean and makes Bean apologize for trespassing—an apology that Madame Dubois does not want from the frightened little one. After things settle down, they hear more screams—or is it crying?—this time from outside. Bean just wants more attention, Thomas retorts.
Gamache and Pierre walk towards the sound anyway. They find Colleen the gardener, sobbing and frightened, staring at the statue. The huge statue of Charles Morrow had indeed taken that step—and stepped right off the plinth. And onto his daughter, Julia. Crushing her.
Pierre and Gamache are stunned. They lead the shocked gardener inside, where Gamache calls his second in command, Jean-Guy Beauvoir from the Sûreté de Québec, and tells him to come to the Manoir at once. Gamache breaks the tragic news to the family that Julia has been killed. They are disbelieving, even angry with Gamache. Irene Finney insists that she must see her daughter—a request to which Gamache eventually relents later in the day after the Sûreté de Quebec arrive—and she sees with utter horror her first daughter, killed inexplicably by the statue of her late husband. Charles, what have you done?
Beauvoir and Agent Lacoste and the other officers arrive, and secure the site. Julia’s death seems impossible. How could a statue that large could simply fall over, and on to a living person? The coroner begins an investigation, and discovers dirt under the corpse—not mud. Julia was killed before the storm; not during, not after. So the storm could not have knocked down the statue. Gamache understands then that this had to have been murder. Statues just don’t just fall down. Something—someone—made it happen.
As they begin their investigation, some of the Morrows feel fairly certain they know who did it—the shopkeeper and the cleaning lady! They tell one of the local officers, who brings the information immediately to Gamache’s team so they can follow up. After a chuckle, the family is finally told that the shopkeeper, Armand Gamache, is actually the famous head of homicide for the Sûreté de Québec. And he will find out who killed Julia.
Madame Dubois urges this. “What happened here isn’t allowed,” she says. When she and her husband bought the Manoir Bellechasse decades ago, they made a pact with the forest: there would be no more unnatural death, no more killing. There is no more hunting and fishing, birds are fed in the winter, mice are even caught alive and released. She’s seen what happens when creatures turn on each other. And she warns Gamache: “You must find out who did this. Because I know one thing for sure. If a person would kill once, they’d kill again.”
Ch. 12-32: The family and staff absorb the news about Julia Martin’s death at the Manoir Bellechasse.
Elliot the young server rages at the news of her death, and threatens to quit. He’s told he can quit his job, but leaving the Manoir is out of the question while they investigate the murder. Pierre the matre d’ tries to show duty and diligence by continuing to show the guests professionalism and respect a trait his father would appreciate, he thinks. The power struggles get worse with Elliot, much to his chagrin. Colleen the gardener, who found the body, seems undone by the event. The shock only aggravates her loneliness in this very beautiful yet remote setting.
Mrs. Finney spooks the entire family by bursting into tears at dinner. Never has there been this display over emotion over any of the Morrow children. Bert Finney is trying to show his support to his wife, but the gestures are swallowed up and unseen by a grieving mother.
Peter seems lost, while Clara feels trapped and miserable. She tries to offer solace to the family, but finds herself either dismissed or the one to be comforted. Peter looks unkempt, messy, and distracted, while Clara looks serious, pressed and buttoned up a complete role reversal.
Marianna acts completely unmoved. She stuffs her face with food during her interview with Beauvoir as if nothing had happened. Thomas and Sandra vie for who gets to be interviewed first and by the most senior officer to boot. Gamache has to remind them that this isn’t a competition.
Bean retreats further into her imagination. She makes a constellation of stars made from half-eaten marshmallow cookies on the Manoir ceiling. In a rare moment of joyous spontaneity, Sandra joins her in the mischievous but fun activity.
Beauvoir is repulsed by this family and the country setting, filled with stinging insects. He is horrified when he learns from his interview with Marianna Morrow that she has purposely kept Bean’s gender a secret from her family, in order to drive her family crazy. He chalks it up to the “insanity of the Anglos.”
In a moment of misery, he stumbles into the kitchen and sees the gigantic Chef Veronique. He is mesmerized by her, and inexplicably drawn to her like a magnet. From that point on, he looks for reasons to be alone with her. He imagines staying at the Manoir forever, if only to be near her.
Agent Lacoste is drawn to the murder site. She can’t imagine how Julia Martin could be killed in such an impossible way. She begins her careful, quiet, meticulous investigating, and orders searches of all of the grounds, and the Manoir rooms.
Reine-Marie is dropped off in Three Pines to stay while Gamache and his team continue their investigation at the Manoir. They interview each family member, the crane company man who mounted the statue, as well as the artist of the statue himself. They gather evidence, including some crumpled notes and a sheaf of letters from Julia’s room.
The early evidence is conflicting and downright inconclusive. It seems unlikely that someone outside of the Manoir could have committed the murder, as the setting is completely remote. To complicate matters, the Morrows say different things about Julia: Mrs. Finney calls her the kindest, most sensitive of all of her children, while Peter characterizes her as “the cruelest, the greediest, of us all.” Thomas says it was a reunion, “a happy time,” and no one wanted to kill her. Beauvoir gazes out the window, silently reminding him of that lie.
Gamache, doing his best to lead the investigation, takes a moment to call his son Daniel. He has a moment of weakness and tells Daniel what he promised he wouldn’t: that he disagrees with the choice of the baby name, and naming him after his father is a mistake. He tells Daniel that life is hard enough without giving a child a name that will lead to abuse or bullying. Daniel is hurt, and the phone call ends badly.
In a painful twist, the Morrows make the connection with Armand Gamache’s name – and his father, who we learn was a national disgrace during World War II. He discouraged Canadian involvement in the war, even after the world knew Hitler had to be stopped. He had gained a following and his name was forever associated with the word “coward.” A word that the Morrows say to Gamache’s face with disdain.
The interview with the crane company reveals nothing helpful or useful – even the crane operator can’t imagine how the huge statue could have fallen. The interview with the sculpture artist doesn’t reveal anything conclusive, except that Bert Finney knew his best friend, Charles Morrow, better than any of his children did.
David, Julia’s ex-husband, now doing time in a correctional facility for his national investment fraud, is also interviewed. David is grief stricken, but he also reveals an interesting secret that defined the hatred that Peter felt for his sister.
After some further digging, Agent Lacoste learns that the Morrows are not actually what, or who, they seem:
Thomas Morrow: called the most successful of the bunch, he is actually the least successful. He has worked at the same firm since college and has not moved up the ladder, nor does he make much money.
Sandra Morrow: makes more than her husband Thomas. She’s doing well at her job, but has hit a glass ceiling. They’ve been living off of the inheritance from Thomas’ father, and it’s about to run out.
Peter Morrow: A prestigious artist, he refused the inheritance money, and he and Clara lived hand to mouth for years. His shows were successful in the past, always selling out, but he hasn’t had a show in a while. And he hated his sister Julia. He secretly played a cruel trick on her that had disastrous effects, causing the family to be forever ruptured.
Marianna Morrow: The interloper sibling who seems a cross between a hippy and a slob is actually by far the most successful of the bunch. She’s a self-made millionaire from a brilliant architect design she came up with in school. Furthermore, her creation was to help the poor – a single family home that was energy efficient and also handsome in design. She travels the world and speaks multiple languages.
Julia Morrow: had claimed on the witness stand during her ex-husband’s trial that she knew nothing about his investment fraud. But she was raised by a shrewd businessman for a father. How true could this be?
Bert Finney: Charles Morrow’s best friend. Everything he told the officers turns out to be true. He was an accountant who worked for his best friend Charles Morrow. But he lied about one thing in his past – that he was in captivity in Burma during World War II, one of the most inhumane, and unsurvivable places to be during the war. Yet he had survived. Who was this man, and why would he choose to be with this impossible family?
The staff, it turns out, is laden also with secrets that begin to come to light. Elliot is from the same neighborhood as Julia and her ex-husband in British Columbia. Elliot and Julia had made some sort of a connection – perhaps a flirtatious one – before she was killed. He was the one who wrote those notes to her. Pierre the matre d’ had worked in a graveyard before taking on the job at the Manoir Bellechasse. He was raised in a wealthy family before his father lost everything in a bad investment when he was quite young. And Chef Veronique turns out to be a Canadian national treasure – a former nun and celebrity chef with a highly popular cooking show back in the day. One day she simply up and left the monastery, and the spotlight, and completely disappeared. Since then she’s been at the great Manoir Bellechasse, where she could live a simpler life, away from scrutiny. Children all over Quebec had adored her – Beauvoir included.
As the Morrows begin to suspect one another, as every family member seems to have motive – most likely the need for money – the Gamaches head to Three Pines to celebrate both Canada Day and their wedding anniversary, July 1. Children play in the sunshine, lamb is roasted, bees hover over spilled Coke, and for a while, the Gamaches revel in the summertime celebration. It is during this visit that Gamache suddenly puts a few crucial pieces of information together. Reine-Marie sees the look on her husband’s face, and knows he is close to solving the murder.
Gamache races back to the Manoir, only to discover that Elliot is missing. Search parties begin looking for him, and in the midst of the confusion, Gamache tries to hunt down some final pieces of information with a couple of phone calls. But he is almost too late – the murderer has struck again, this time kidnapping Bean. In a heart-stopping climax, Gamache, the murderer, and Bean are at the top of the steep copper roof of the Manoir. One or all of them might not leave with their life.
The Morrows, each and every one of them watching with horror from the safety of the ground, now understand who killed their daughter, their sister. It all pointed back to Julia’s husband. The murderer took Julia’s life in a blind moment of rage, for everything he and his family lost in one of David’s early investment failures. And for the money and privilege she represented.
Gamache barely manages to save Bean’s life and his own. They are all brought in to safety, and the murderer, exhausted, confesses. The family and the staff discuss the clues, and the Morrow secrets are now out in the open. As old wounds are discussed, some amount of understanding and healing begins to seep in to this family, who have for so long misunderstood one another, as well as their father’s intentions.
Peter and Clara leave the Manoir, and Peter has a new understanding of his father. Bean seems to be doing fine despite the scare, and the Gamaches feel certain that this wonderful yet strange child will thrive. We learn a bit more about the Morrows, their pain, and how Bert Finney could survive such horror during the war. Gamache and Daniel make peace, and Armand and Reine-Marie look forward to the day they will meet their grandchild.
FAVORITE QUOTE
“Chef Veronique loved nature, and found plenty of time to study it, and she knew that sometimes something unnatural crawled out of the womb, out of the woods.”
“Madame Dubois knew, from bitter experience, you can’t always choose, or like, your family.”
“The Canadian wilderness didn’t give up her territory or her dead easily.”
“You can’t get milk from a hardware store.”
CONCLUSION
Julia Martin was killed in a moment of passion and rage. One of the commentators in Week One of the re-read discussion wisely made the point that A Rule Against Murder is just as much about fathers and sons as it is about family, and it’s true – we see the sons still existing in the long shadows of their fathers. The murderer tried to live a life his father could respect, but in the end, he murdered to avenge his failures. Fathers, alive or dead, shape us all, A Rule Against Murder says. But in Gamache’s case, he finds moments to choose the length of the shadow. To choose its shape.
Nothing was as it seemed with the Morrows – their successes, their hostilities, even their pain. Louise Penny shows how disfunction was introduced into the family, and given an environment to flourish. Irene Finney was beset with a physically painful disease unbeknownst to her children which made touch impossible, and it made her seem remote and unloving. Charles Morrow withheld his wealth from his children, and tried to instill a spirit of gamesmanship and risk so they could learn to become self-reliant. Instead it backfired, and created an atmosphere of intense competition between the siblings, and the life-long bruises began. Even with Bert Finney, we learn that he didn’t marry Irene for her vast fortune, but simply because he loved her his entire life.
A Rule Against Murder, also known as The Murder Stone, was published in the U.S. in January 2009. It is a layered, sensory-filled murder mystery in one of its most classic forms. The symbolism and subtexts alone are fascinating and plentiful. But A Rule Against Murder, to me, also represented prescient timing: the Bernie Madoff scandal had just broken, and Julia and David Martin represented the kind of devastating damage that can be done when avarice, an absence of ethics, and opportunity form a perfect storm. It’s not often a fiction publication can tie into breaking headline news, let alone one of the top news stories of the decade. It was impossible at the time to flout it too much when pitching, as a publicist never wants to point too much to a single motive when pitching mysteries. But five years later, it’s fun to think about, and remember the context when this extraordinary book came into the world.
Thank you so much for joining me in re-reading A Rule Against Murder. I look forward to seeing you on the discussion boards!
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
- We are introduced to the Morrow family. What member are you most drawn to?
- Who are some of the less obvious characters in A Rule Against Murder?
- Louise Penny’s books are filled with rich sensory experiences—sight, sound, taste, smell, touch. With A Rule Against Murder, we get the summertime sensory experiences, in addition to simple everyday ones. What are your favorite sensory passages or sentences in A Rule Against Murder?
- Louise Penny plays with duality, and in A Rule Against Murder we see the juxtaposition of the unnatural within the natural. How is this illustrated? What are some other themes that you see?
- Do you agree with Madame Dubois’ opinion about family? (See above under “Favorite Quotes”.) Can there sometimes be a choice to like your family?
- What are your favorite humorous moments from A Rule Against Murder?
264 replies on “Series Re-Read: A Rule Against Murder”
humorous moments: Bean and the cookies. I think it would be so much fun do give it a try. Unfortunately, my ability to throw is as poor as my typing and spellings skills.
Jean Guy and the bugs. He would have a terrible time here in Georgia where mosquitos and flies attack humans and animals alike. The idea of this always well dressed man with smashed bugs on his face and neck is too funny.
I love that Jean Guy can never bring himself to dress for the weather, which means he is ALWAYS uncomfortable. He is swatting at mosquitoes and blackflies, with sweat and blood running down his face! This cannot be the first time he’s had to venture outside of Montreal in the summer – yet he is too vain to smell like bug repellent. In winter, he won’t wear a big parka and so freezes in his fashionable little jackets, which only work if you’re only going from the car to the office or the house, very quickly. He cracks me up because he has an excellent model of how to be comfortable and still elegant, in Gamache.
That has struck me about Jean-Guy as well. It reminds me of teenage boys who insist on wearing shorts and sandals as soon as the snow begins to melt and wouldn’t be caught dead in a real jacket. It’s one of the things that makes me see Jean-Guy stuck in adolescence (hidden with a veneer of adulthood).
True – maybe that’s why he changes more than other characters – he still has so much growth to come… another thing I love about him is is insistence that all Anglos are crazy! 😀
Julie and KB, I enjoyed reading your comments about Jean-Guy. Have to admit, I hadn’t picked up on his sartorial hang-ups until the re-reads. He apparently is a “FashionistO” amongst the more prosaic members of the Surete. I just have to laugh at his foibles, since he’s willing to suffer cold in the winter and heat and bug attacks in the summer rather than wear “un-cool” clothes! Heee Heee. Plus, I too get a kick out of whenever he finds himself faced with a “crazy anglo”! That’s always good for a hearty chuckle!
When I first got to the knives, very quickly the thought went through my mind, “Veronique in the dining room with a knife,” but just as quickly I realized, she’s just too divine for that nonsense.
humorous moments:
Guy having a face full of smashed bugs!
The line about Marianne’s clothes having a grudge against her.
Chef Veronique described as huge and beefy, her face like a pumpkin, and her voice like a root vegetable. And…she had knives! Lots of knives!!
question 4: The following passage I found so insightful: Reine-Marie was describing how Julia behaved differently around men as men seem hard-wired to be sympathetic to a needy woman. Julia was vulnerable. And the tragedy wasn’t that she had low self-esteem but on how she would always find men to save her. And the greatest tragedy was she never knew that she could save herself. I see that now in relationships of people I know.
I’ve read all of the series…twice, actually; but this is the first time I’ve visited the discussion site.
I am enjoying the comments immensely. Always interesting to see others’ opinions and viewpoints of one’s favorite stories.
With regards to the Morrows/Finneys, I was drawn to Julia. And Bean is refreshing, filled w joy. One does have to wonder if Marianne (just judging from her accomplishments, and her child) is so much ‘more’ outside of her toxic family environment.
As the story progresses (no direct spoilers) Mrs. Finney is shown to be a character who can be pitied, in some ways. Unfortunately, her choices in not allowing her children to understand her shortcomings define who she is, and who she remains, as someone hard and unmoving. (She actually reappears eventually in the series, colder than ever.) One does wonder what Bert sees in her that keeps him at her side, even though he does understand the source of her limitations.
Penny just does a wonderful job w/ characterization as a whole. The plots are intriguing, the settings richly drawn, but the whole series is so character-driven. And these are such multi-dimensional people.
I will definitely return to enjoy everyone’s comments and perspectives for this book, and the others.
Thank you.
Mrs. Finney, most especially, could have profited from Gamache’s advice/warning to his team: Be able to say I’m sorry, I was wrong, I need help… (and why can I not recall the fourth?).
I don’t know. Though in one book, Nichol adds (unwittingly), “I forget.”
3. Louise Penny’s books are filled with rich sensory experiences—sight, sound, taste, smell, touch. With A Rule Against Murder, we get the summertime sensory experiences, in addition to simple everyday ones. What are your favorite sensory passages or sentences in A Rule Against Murder?
Oh! It is soooo hard to choose! I love the description at the beginning of the book, of the mailman making his way through Three Pines:
” He wandered slowly by the perennial beds of roses and lilies and thrusting bold foxglove. He helped kids spot frogs at the pond on the green. He sat on warm fieldstone walls and watched the old village go about its business. It added hours to his day and made him the last courier back to the terminal…
Instead of hurrying, he strolled through Three Pines, talking to people as they walked their dogs, often joining them for lemonade or the glace outside the bistro. Or cafe au lait in front of the roaring fire in winter”(p 5).
Even more than that, though, I just adore the description of a wonderful day the Gamaches are having together, early on:
“After a refreshing swim and gin and tonics on the dock the Gamaches showered then joined the other guests in the dining room for dinner. Candles glowed inside hurricane lamps and each table was adorned with simple bouquets of old English roses. More exuberant arrangements stood on the mantlepiece, great exclamations of peony and lilac, of baby blue delphiniums and bleeding hearts, arching and aching… The guests watched the sun set behind the rolling hills of Lac Massawippi and enjoyed course after course, beginning with the chef’s amuse-bouche of local caribou. Reine-Marie had the escargots a l’ ail, followed by seared duck breast with confit of wild ginger, mandarin and kumquat. Gamache started with fresh roquette from the garden and shaved parmesan then ordered the organic salmon with sorrel yogurt.”
What a feast of details, both visual and culinary. But, the best is yet to come: Pierre describes his suggestions for dessert:
“For Madame, we have fresh mint ice cream on an eclair filled with creamy dark organic chocolate, and for Monsieur a pudding du chomeur a l’erable avec creme chantilly”((17). I must admit, my mouth was watering as I read that passage. My knowledge of French is not extensive, but I know enough to figure out that Gamache was having some kind of chantilly cream pudding. I probably would be more likely to expire of sheer bliss if I were to have the dessert which “Queen Mary” was having recommended to her! I feel as though I have gained ten pounds just by reading that description! But for that dessert, it would be worth it!
Oh, the food! I don’t know how the pudding truly translates – Google translates it as “Pudding Unemployed with Maple Syrup” and here’s a recipe:
http://www.coupdepouce.com/recettes-cuisine/desserts/gateaux-et-patisseries/pouding-chomeur-au-sirop-d-erable/r/3220
It almost looks like a bread pudding, but you had me at maple syrup and Chantilly cream, hahahaha.
Aha – “Poor Man’s Maple Pudding”!
oh Jane, you mentioned so many of my favorites! Of course the food, that goes without saying! And the swim they take in the early morning after a night of sweating . I enjoyed the thought of the mailbox screaming when it received the invitation from the mailman. The way Penny writes, I could smell the atmosphere of the storm coming, I could feel the humidity dripping on me, and I could envision the cube of marble shimmering in the moonlight
The image of the screaming mailbox comes to mind when I see the postal truck in our neighborhood. I wonder which box will scream today or which will smile at happy news. Thanks to Penny for another humurous idea.
Barbara, I absolutely loved this description, too. So illuminating, and humorous. I wonder if inboxes can also scream? 😉
Yes – I loved these ones, too, Jane – could read them again and again!
“Bean wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence.”
To escape the violence of my dysfunctional family as a child I would retreat to books and to the woods near our house. There my life could be anything I wanted to make it. There I learned that dysfunctional wasn’t normal, and yes, I could rise above it. The elbow of my childhood bears an angry purple bruise that still aches at unexpected times. But in the woods and in my books, I learned that I could choose to close the chapters of that storybook, and put it on the shelf. It resides there now only for reference when I need to remind myself of how far I’ve come.
Yes, Bean’s enchanting daydreams were very sensory for me.
I find it interesting that many readers expect people to ‘rise above’ their family’s dysfunctional behavior and ‘outgrow’ it.
That is a very difficult enterpries, because so many of us don’t even know that the dysfunction that echoes on and on in our own behavior came from some place and time where we learned ways of doing things, speaking, acting toward others, and responding to pain that seem ‘axiomatic’ and so ‘obvious’ and just ‘the way it is’ to us that we have no idea that things could in any way be different.
I believe many people deal with dysfunctional families by just not going to the reunions, drifting away or drawing a line in the sand and vowing never to cross it. In my own family, I dealt with a lot of stuff by just limiting my contact severely. Boundaries helped me to have space to learn other ways to act and react.
Now, I have my elderly parent, transmitter of a great talent for drama and sharp edged sarcasms and indirect manipulations, living with me. I am tested almost every day and tempted almost every day to respond as I learned to do as a small child. I don’t always succeed in ‘rising above’–and I am trying to, with all my might, some therapy and a fairly conscious attitude.
No wonder Peter and his siblings don’t manage to ‘rise above’ their even more bitterly hurtful raising. I don’t forgive him everything, but as a person who didn’t start to really ‘get’ life without the inherited familly neuroses coloring my view until I was in my 40s and 50s, I have a lot of compassion for people like Peter, who just can’t seem to get forward.
Penny… oh, amen, sister.
This was the first of the series I’d read. Blew me away.
Still does.
You put that so well, Penny – and it’s just what I meant when I sort of “hinted” that it’s difficult. Hahahaha – this is part of my problem with this – we were never to say anything overtly – so you came at things by the side door, which is often not very effective, hahahahaha. I think this book has to resonate so soundly with people (and there are a lot more of us than you’d think) from dysfunctional families. All that said – as adults, there are things that cannot be forgiven, and one of the most fundamental is that your spouse does NOT sabotage you the way Peter did. This is the only action that I find that I cannot excuse… well, okay – that and murder. ;-p
My goodness, I’m wondering if we all had the same parents…or, at least, they all went to the same parenting school. I, too, grew up never allowing anything wrong to be acknowledged. A cold – good heavens, no, it wasn’t a cold. Don’t ask me what father called it; fortunately, I’ve long forgotten the label, having “created” my own way in life.
Penny, I too had to deal with an elderly father who spit venom at me on a daily basis. He knew what he was doing—his mind was in no way impaired. Late in life he had married a woman who was even more manipulative and mean than my mother who had died 23 years before his second marriage. You too can make it through what is a very bad situation. Books like this series are so much help I think.
Barbara, thank you! Fortunately the venom is not a constant, but it flies around the room often enough that it helps to have a little reassurance from time to time!
Penny, knowing that the knee jerk response isn’t healthy and trying to rise above is enough. There is no perfect family. There are no perfect people. Bless you for trying with your parent.
When I see my kids putting each other down, I do my best to remind them that we are a family and we love each other and our home should be a safe harbour where we build each other up. The family I grew up in is not toxic, but I was a kid who was very sensitive to criticism and spent a lot of time in my head, second guessing everything and re-living put-downs an internalizing them.
The Morrow family didn’t have to be toxic. It seems as though there was love but the parents were so inept in showing it or praising their children for loving behaviour – “cleverness” was more important than treating family with respect, dignity and love. How sad.
And, of course, we only got snippets to show intentional harm done. I read with the filter of my own experience and interpreted their behaviour in that context, so likely perceived the “normal” interactions between the siblings and parents as being less consistently toxic than someone with a different family experience.
The Morrows make me appreciate my family so much more.
Barbara, I am often surprised at how people within one family will have different long term reactions to abuse they suffered. Is perhaps the key that the person who can rise about it learns how to compartmentalize the hurt they suffered, whilst the one who doesn’t continues to let the hurt eat away at him?
As for the family quote, it’s often a sad day when someone has to acknowledge that a member of their own family is someone they dislike, and often with good reason …
The world, current and past, is filled with too much cruelty to be interested in “horror movies.” The revelations of the Morrow family ‘s treatment of each other is brillant in its intricacies and nuances. It is bone chilling to think of children suffering such emotional abuse. What kind of a father laughs at Julia’s ridicule of Peter. That is bullying and cruel. She should have been taught that you do not seek to win a contest by any means possible. There exists, in families and in society, lines that are not to be crossed. Look at the harm that one incident led to. However, some people are able to rise above life’s horrors and lead full, rewarding, happy lives while others live forever mired in the muck and seek only to cause as much pain as possible to others. How are the two outcomes possible? Is there some character trait that accounts for this? What is the key? It must exist.
In this story, I think the key is getting away from the family. Julia does so much better away, and was about to tell them all something that would have been a good thing for them to hear – would have been healing. She was met with the taunts of her siblings, however, and then never got another chance.
In real life, I think the difference is much harder to define. Of my siblings, I think I’m the only one who “got away”. And the difference, I think, is that I was the only girl, and the middle child, so much more ignored – which turns out to be a good thing, as toxic attention is not really what you want…
Parents should learn to apologise to their children. We cannot always get it right as parents, but on behaving poorly we must be ready to apologise to our children just as we expect them to apologise for inappropriate behaviour. Life should not be a constant competition. There is a time for competition and a time to just enjoy the pleasure in relationships, children should be shown this by their parents.
Starting at the final question, who couldn’t love the scene where Bean is throwing cookies to the ceiling? I wanted to join in. I was almost immediately drawn to Marianna. She didn’t seem to let herself be drawn into the hateful relationships, and there were times when she was clearly a frazzled, but loving mother.
I liked Chef Veronique quickly also.
A friend once related to me that when one of her children misbehaved and was fearful they’d no longer be loved, she told them that she would always love them, but perhaps didn’t like them–more precisely what they did–at the time. The poor Morrow family never seemed to be able to like OR love. This is a wonderful story of complex family relationships, including that of Gamache.
Sensory? It was too hot and buggy! I sweated and swatted with Jean-Luc.
Jean Guy!
This book represented a struggle for me personally. I loved the book, the story line and the life nuggets always present. I had trouble with the Morrow family dysfunction which reminded me so of my own family once upon a time. I was interested in the development of Peter’s secrets which he didn’t part with wholeheartedly. It always amazes me the lengths one will go to protect a wounded soul.
You and me, both, Pat! They only need to move this family to the woods in Ontario to be my family. We had a few more moments (especially as a child) when we were truly like a loving family, but there was, unfortunately, a lot of venom, as well. Knowing better DOES help you to do better, but it’s not easy – especially as you first try to break away. And I wonder, do the grown Morrow children really know better? This is all they’ve ever known, though I think it’s telling that only Marianna has had a child.
In a way, this dysfunction makes me think of emotional “abuse,” in the sense of keeping such a tight rein on the children’s feelings, emotions, and actions that these children are almost held hostage. As with any kind of abuse, the emotional kind has long-lasting effects that come out in most unexpected and undesired (often) ways, regardless of one’s age. As for recognizing this type of “abuse” in ones self or family members, I’m not sure how easy that is to do, without accusing and/or putting ones self in a more awkward and bad light.
More than a story about families, this book is about fathers and their sons. Gamache and his father and his own son, and even to the 4th generation are spotlighted. But father Morrow, especially with his sons, are involved. What about Bean with a lack of father… And then there is the virtual father-son relationship between Gamache and Beauvoir, which has affected the series in important ways and will continue to do so.
I loved the little gestures with Gamache as he talked about or thought about his father, Honore. After the second time it happened, it dawned on me that he was holding his father’s hand, which transported me to a place where I was a tiny girl. My great big Daddy would put down one finger and I would reach up high and grasp the finger – it’s the way he held my hand to walk across a street. I so identify with that.
Family – ah – so complicated. Of course we cannot choose them (nor would we be guaranteed good choices if we could), but I like what KB said – that we can choose our reactions – or at least our outward actions. Even though the same old barbs cut like a knife, we can choose to rise above it. And no, that’s not always easy. There are some families that are so toxic that the best you can do is to limit or end all contact. This is what Julia had done, and she at least seemed the most pleasant of all of them.
Once we know some of the secrets, I can sympathize. There is a moment late in the book where Marianne and Sandra join forces and I can see that Sandra really would only need to be out of the influence of the Morrows to be able to flower a bit. What Sandra does, it seems to me, is only petty and somewhat annoying – it’s not destructive, like what Peter does. I think there’s hope for Sandra.
What a lovely picture of a father’s hands walking his children. Thank you for reminding me.
good insights, Sharon!
My wife, Hanna, and I enjoyed this wonderful tale as we drove to Myrtle Beach during the March break. We love Gamache, and having this episode read to us as we drove transported us to the site of pastoral setting, with a decidedly non-pastoral family. Gamache’s decency is so attractive; what a fine character. He’s so blessed by Reine Marie, as she is with him. Looking forward to many more adventures. Thank you, Louise Penny.
yes, Ben, I must concur that Armand is extremely fortunate to have the lovely Reine-Marie as his life partner. BTW, I finally twigged what Reine-Marie’s name means, and Gabri sort of gives it away in the last part of this book. Reine comes from the same root word as Regina, and both mean Queen. Marie is the French for Mary, of course, so her name in English is literally “Queen Mary”. A very appropriate name for the queenly woman who is married to Gamache!
In the dysfunctional hurtful family members, I have found, often say and do cruel things to seemingly push loved ones away, but when the loved ones stay, in a perverse way it proves their love. Human beings, those created by Louise, and in real life are so very complex and needy! Armand and Reine Marie are so easy to embrace. I wish they were part of my family!
Ready to tackle question #2:
Who are some of the less obvious characters in A Rule Against Murder?
This is more complicated than it looks at first reading. I thought almost immediately of Colleen, the gardener, the one who told the Finney group that Bean had been stung by wasps. Don’t want to write too much more here, as that might be a spoiler for those who haven’t finished reading the book yet, but Colleen plays an integral part in helping Gamache solve the ” How was it done?” question later on.
I also think Chef Veronique qualifies as someone who is less obvious. Of course, with her physique, it’s hard to think of her as anything resembling “less obvious”, but here I think perhaps the question is referring to personal qualities, not just physical, and in reading the book, it’s clear that unless one is daily in the kitchen area, a guest would not even be aware of Veronique, as she pretty much keeps to the kitchen or the garden/hives areas. Even more than that, though, there’s the mystery of WHY she is at Bellechasse. That is not answered until the last part of the book, so it’s another little thread in the tapestry of Louise Penny’s mystery that makes it so satisfying.
If there is ever a There Pines Cook book, they need to include honorary chapters from Chef Veronique. She was by far my favorite less obvious character in this reading. I loved how Jean-Lic was so taken by her. If any book of this series made me hungry, this is it.
Um, Luc.
Jean-Guy?
(Sheepishly) Yes.
I agree – would love to have more of a discussion on Chef Veronique in the next part – this is so much a part of the Canadian voice that Louise brings to these books. Not only Jean Luc is drawn to her – both Armand and Reine-Marie Gamache are just SURE they know her from somewhere. Reine-Marie will help us out here…
A less-obvious character is Elliot – does his flirtation with Julia mean he had evil intentions toward her? I liked the interplay between Elliot and Pierre – and can’t help but think that if Pierre could remember his 18-year-old self, he’d recognize Elliot as a kindred spirit…
I too love the Chef. She has good perceptions on how to handle the kids working there. I wonder if she would like to marry Pierre.
I’m going to have to go back to be able to discuss most of the middle questions, but on #5 – “can’t always choose or like your family”, not always being able to choose or like them doesn’t preclude either. Most of us don’t choose our family…outside of adoption, we get the luck of the draw. As far as liking them, we are sometimes lucky and have shared interests without major conflicts intervening. Without sibling rivalry gone bad. Without old hurts from careless or well sharpened and deliberate words.
In most cases, though, those old hurts exist. Most are not as deep as those inflicted by the Morrows, but put-downs from a teenager trying to look cool or unintended slights or being ignored or minimized when you needed help or attention or love….there can be reverberations at unexpected times. Triggered by a word or a smell or a sound. And then there is a choice: live in the hurt. Get dragged down and reflect it. Or choose to see beyond it to the good. Choose to remember support, belonging and love.
Or, choose to consciously and completely severe ones self from the family. Sometimes, albeit drastic and not highly recommended, it is the only choice in order to survive…a choice some of us have had to make.
Although not technically a Morrow, I was most drawn to Albert Finney. His intelligence, groundedness, humour, and spirit were such a contrast to the “Mad Morrows”. Thomas and Sandra were repulsive. Thomas – unnecessarily cruel. Sandra – so hard done by. Marianna….using her child as a weapon against the family….that was unnerving. Peter has always been “off”. His veneer slipped though in this book, so that his brokenness was out there for all to see. And the mother…. ye gods! The horror. The only real Morrow sibling who was at all attractive as a person was Julia. She seemed authentically kind, even though she was too caught up in appearances and what the world thinks. Assuming that Bean is a Morrow (not a Finney), Bean is the most attractive of the bunch. Bean appeared to be a spirited and (fairly) confident child who didn’t get stressed about the tension, ugliness and pettiness of the rest of the Morrow clan.
Yes, but KB, IF we assume that Bean’s mother is the love child of Bert Finney and Mrs. Morrow, then that makes Bean a Finney, not a Morrow. That would explain a lot about her personality, too. Of course, she hasn’t grown up in a home where the father lived in fear of his children–fear that they would be the ones to squander the family fortune, not considering that if he’d filled them with love and respect, they would’ve been a lot less apt to be what he feared. Anyway, without a warped father figure, and even with a mother so loony that she would give a child a stupid name like Bean, and not tell anyone in her family what gender the child is, Bean is pretty much a normal child. (Except for all the clocks in her room–that is some kind of neurosis there, but not a crippling one, I’d say). Amidst all the petty sniping and cruel jests of the Morrow clan, Bean is a shining light and her normality shows there is hope that even a clan as poisonous as the Morrows can produce a child full of imagination and joie de vivre. I think that is why I like Bean so much–she’s an emblem of hope.
I’m thinking yes. Does anyone know for sure?
I have a question. We know Penny uses known poets for some of her lines, but where do Ruth’s poems come from? From Penny?
Somebody said they’d heard Louise say in an interview that they were Margaret Atwood’s poems that are attributed to Ruth – though I didn’t hear this myself – just reporting what someone said – I think in the Still Life discussion.
In Brutal Telling there are acknowledgements regarding some poetry used from Atwood and others. as well, yes there have been interviews with Louise Penny where she also acknowledges Atwood. All the poetry ascribed to Ruth is by Atwood. You can Google this and you can also find some info in the books of the series.
I can answer that, Barbara. The poems are used, with permission (and acknowledged on the permissions page) – they’re by Margaret Atwood from her Morning in the Burned House, and a self-published book of poetry by the late Marylyn Plessner called Vapour Trails.
Google “Ruth Zardo’s poetry’ and you will find that Penny uses three or four different poets including Leonard Cohen who Penny says is the only poet who allows her to use his poems for free.
Thanks to everyone for their replies! I look forward to reading Atwood and the other poets.
The member of the Morrow family drawn to–Bean. So far we all seem to agree. I don’t find much to be drawn to in the other Morrows. Toxic and noxious describes them and the air surrounding them.
I do like Bert Finney but wonder how he could endure them.
Madam DuBois is also a likeable character.
Barbara, I have to wonder WHY he endures them, though we get a few glimpses that he really loves his wife, and wishes she were more open with her children, so they might love her too. While, of course, I am drawn to Bean and so, so, sorry for this child, who seems nothing more to his or her mother than a weapon to turn on her family!
I believe Marianna is a “love child” of Bert Finney and Mrs. Morrow’s. It’s why she’s not as outwardly attractive as the others, and there is a hint of this somewhere near the end. It’s just a hint, of course, and that’s all I need, hahahaha.
The one I am drawn to is Sandra. Okay, maybe not DRAWN TO, but she cracks me up! I find the constant “is HIS piece of cake larger than mine?” so funny! I know she is just annoying as all get out, but she has so much to put up with! I so identify with her having to diet before facing her husband’s family, not to mention the crud her husband puts out toward her while they are together. I get the impression that while some of the others are their very worst selves while the family is around, Thomas is like this all the time, and Sandra is stuck with him.
Another thing I love is how Peter comes undone around his family – immediately, the crumbs that normally find a way into Clara’s hair are now on Peter’s shirt, and he can’t seem to keep that shirt tucked in, while Clara becomes sleek and pulled-together!
I know this family – I grew up with them. It takes all one’s might to find your own way when you are away from them. When they’re near, you revert to familiar roles. The same fights break out – the same barbs, the same complaints… I feel eternally sorry for these grown children having to show up year after year to these family reunions. I know they don’t “have to”, except that, somehow, they do.
The insights some of this brings into Peter and his insecurities is the main nugget I pull from this book, and I love the way Louise Penny does this! None of us have appreciated the way Peter has treated Clara. We understand so much, now that we’ve seen a little of his upbringing. It doesn’t excuse his outright “putting down” of Clara, but we do begin to understand it. Coming from a dog-eat-dog family can do that to a person. Of course, we expect that now that he is grown and in a loving relationship, he should do better, and be better to Clara. Time will tell if he can ever manage that.
I do have to admit, I liked Peter even less after this book. I did however like the fact that for the first time we see Clara pushing back and not just acting oblivious or meekly retreating.
Yes – understanding where his insecurities come from doesn’t excuse his behavior at all – it’s time to grow up, for goodness’ sake, and be the kind of person you want to be. It was nice to see Clara push back, wasn’t it? I think seeing the people we care about (even the fictional ones) grow and develop is so exciting! I have to admit that Ruth left me intimidated and a little cold after the first reading of Still Life, but this group has me going back and taking second and third looks – and while I still wouldn’t do it her way, I do love to see the glimmers of the soft center!
Where once I admired the elegant and handsome Peter for his love of his somewhat plainer wife, I began to dislike him here. He doesn’t take up for Clara when his family mocks her and morphs into a person as unlikeable as the rest of the Morrows. In fact, I like him less after each novel. Which is to say I positively loathe him by the end of “How the Light Gets In.”
I, too, am drawn to Bean. And once I got past this strange idea of Marianne to keep her family guessing about Bean’s gender, I liked her. Her family gives her no credit for her successes and insist that Thomas play the piano for their entertainment when Marianne is by far the more accomplished musician. She of all the Morrows strikes me as the only one who would be kind and likeable away from her family. The others strike me as loathsome no matter where they are or whom they are with.
I too enjoy when Clara takes on the odious Mrs. Finney, but am sorry that Clara does not fight back a bit more.
They have both been using the wrong the name for each other, but while I think Clara has done this inadvertently, I am left believing that Mrs. Finney has called Clara, Claire, deliberately. Why would she not simply correct Clara the first time Clara addresses her as Mrs. Morrow – “Actually Clara, my name is Mrs. Finney, I remarried after my first husband’s death.” Is Mrs. Finney’s use of Claire, instead of Clara, her way of saying, you have not bothered to get my name correct, so I will not get your correct? Childish in the extreme, but then this whole family seems doomed to live a childhood horror for ever.
I absolutely loved that Peter spills, gets crumbs, etc. (normally what happens to Clara) and that Clara becomes pristine among the Morrows. What a role reversal.
Linda,
I also liked the part where Peter was the one looking disheveled and Clara was looking pristine! Quite a role reversal there!
Peter was truly revealed wasn’t he? To me he came across as whiney and self-centered. True, his family is dysfunctional but as a grown adult he has the ability to rise above that. His carefully tended “poor picked on me” attitude may very well be the root of his jealousy of Clara’s talent. (Intentionally leaving the paint spots on his hands to play up the fact that he believes they are the reason for his family nickname Spot may well be one of his more interesting paintings.)
——– SPOILER ALERT ——————-
I had completely overlooked the import of Bert Finney’s remark to Gamache about the Marianna Islands. Two readings and I did not pick up on it. Thanks for the help.
It was a teensy little comment – I sure didn’t see it the first time!
I’ve read it twice, and still don’t remember his comment nor did I associate it with Marianne’s parentage.
In chapter 32 Finney says to Gamache – ‘ “You know the Mariana Islands, sir? They’re where the American troops left to liberate Burma.” Finney stopped then and looked over to the four chairs, one of which contained a woman and her child, both very unlike the other Morrows.’ This is the only hint we have of this, but I am choosing to believe it means that Marianna is Finney’s child, not a Morrow.