Fred Vargas, Un Lieu Incertain (French, 2008)

How often will I repeat that I love Fred Vargas? I don’t seem to get enough of her books and she doesn’t disappoint me. I was quite late to discover her and it’s a shame I lost so much time. That will serve me right: I shouldn’t be systematically prejudiced against French authors celebrated by the press: Sometimes, popular authors are just as good as their fame says they are.

That said, it’s very difficult to sum up a Fred Vargas mystery. It starts with her oddball hero Commissaire Adamsberg, sent to London for a European conference on “harmonization of migratory influx”. He is bored to death because he doesn’t believe in harmonization and doesn’t speak a word of English. But his foreign experience turns out more morbid than expected when his British counterpart stumbles upon a dozen of shoes lined up in front of Highgate Cemetery (of course it’s more complicated than that)… with human feet inside the shoes. The rest of the book includes a body smashed to pieces, a kitten rescued at birth, an excursion to Serbia, an old curse with vampires, an unknown son of Adamsberg, and many other quirky parts. And of course, when you think of it at the end, the harmonization of migratory influx takes a whole new meaning.

Now, just for fun, and because you might be frustrated to learn that this book hasn’t yet been translated to English, I’ll try and translate a bit. Vargas’ writing is quirky and full of funny images, but all typos and grammar errors are mine, I apologize in advance.

– Good, said Clyde-Fox [the eccentric aristocrat who meets with the group of inspectors out of the conference], putting his shoes back on. Bad stuff. Do your job, Radstock, go see this. It’s a heap of old shoes on the sidewalk. Get your soul ready. There are about twenty of them, you can’t miss them.
– It’s not my business, Clyde Fox.
– Of course it is. They are lined up with care, toes towards the cemetery. Indeed, I’m talking about the old main gates.
– The old cemetery is watched all night. Closed for people and people’s shoes.
– I’m afraid the shoes still want to get in, and their whole attitude is very distasteful. Go see them, do your job.
– Clyde-Fox, I don’t give a shit that your old shoes want to get in there.
– You’re wrong, Radstock. Because there are feet inside them.
There was a silence, an unpleasant shock wave. A short moan came out of [P.C.] Estalere’s throat, [P.I.] Danglard clenched his arms. Adamsberg stopped walking and looked up.