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The Shadow Puppet (Inspector Maigret), by Georges Simenon
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A new translation of this gripping domestic tragedy, set in Simenon's very own neighbourhood. Book twelve in the new Penguin Maigret series.
One by one the lighted windows went dark. The silhouette of the dead man could still be seen through the frosted glass like a Chinese shadow puppet. A taxi pulled up. It wasn't the public prosecutor yet. A young woman crossed the courtyard with hurried steps, leaving a whiff of perfume in her wake. Summoned to the dimly-lit Place des Vosges one night, where he sees shadowy figures at apartment windows, Maigret uncovers a tragic story of desperate lives, unhappy families, addiction and a terrible, fatal greed.
Penguin is publishing the entire series of Maigret novels in new translations. This novel has been published in previous translations as Maigret Mystified and The Shadow in the Courtyard.
'Compelling, remorseless, brilliant.' - John Gray
'One of the greatest writers of the twentieth century . . . Simenon was unequalled at making us look inside, though the ability was masked by his brilliance at absorbing us obsessively in his stories.' - The Guardian
'A supreme writer . . . unforgettable vividness.' - The Independent
- Sales Rank: #487778 in Books
- Published on: 2015-04-28
- Released on: 2015-04-28
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 7.76" h x .38" w x 5.07" l, .30 pounds
- Binding: Paperback
- 160 pages
Review
‘One of the greatest writers of the twentieth century…Simenon was unequalled at making us look inside, though the ability was masked by his brilliance at absorbing us obsessively in his stories.’ — The Guardian
'I love reading Simenon. He makes me think of Chekhov.' — William Faulkner
'The greatest of all, the most genuine novelist we have had in literature' — Andr� Gide
‘A supreme writer…unforgettable vividness’ — The Independent
'Superb... The most addictive of writers... A unique teller of tales' — The Observer
‘Compelling, remorseless, brilliant.’ — John Gray
'A truly wonderful writer... marvellously readable - lucid, simple, absolutely in tune with the workd he creates' — Muriel Spark
'A novelist who entered his fictional world as it he were a part of it' — Peter Ackroyd
'Extraordinary masterpieces of the twentieth century' — John Banville
About the Author
GEORGES SIMENON (1903–1989) was born in Li�ge, Belgium. Best known in Britain as the author of the Maigret books, he is a household name in continental Europe with a prolific output of more than four hundred novels and short stories.
Excerpt. � Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Georges Simenon
�
THE SHADOW PUPPET
Translated by Ros Schwartz PENGUIN BOOKS
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)
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Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, Block D, Rosebank Office Park, 181 Jan Smuts Avenue, Parktown North, Gauteng 2193, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
www.penguin.com
First published in French as L’ombre chinoise by Fayard 1932
This translation first published 2014
Copyright 1932 by Georges Simenon Limited
Translation copyright � Ros Schwartz, 2014
GEORGES SIMENON � Simenon.tm
MAIGRET � Georges Simenon Limited
All rights reserved
� Harry Gruyaert /Magnum Photos
Front cover design by Alceu Chiesorin Nunes
The moral rights of the author and translator have been asserted
Typeset by Palimpsest Book Production Ltd, Falkirk, Stirlingshire
ISBN: 978-0-698-18388-9
Title Page
Copyright
About the Author
1. The Shadow Puppet
2. A Good Man
3. The Couple at H�tel Pigalle
4. The Second-Floor Window
5. The Madwoman
6. A Raging Fever
7. The Three Women
8. The Home Nurse
9. The Man with the Pension
10. Identity Cards
11. The Drawing on the Wall
EXTRA: Chapter 1 from The Saint-Fiacre Affair
PENGUIN CLASSICS
THE SHADOW PUPPET
‘I love reading Simenon. He makes me think of Chekhov’
– William Faulkner
‘A truly wonderful writer�…�marvellously readable – lucid, simple, absolutely in tune with the world he creates’
– Muriel Spark
‘Few writers have ever conveyed with such a sure touch, the bleakness of human life’
– A. N. Wilson
‘One of the greatest writers of the twentieth century�…�Simenon was unequalled at making us look inside, though the ability was masked by his brilliance at absorbing us obsessively in his stories’
– Guardian
‘A novelist who entered his fictional world as if he were part of it’
– Peter Ackroyd
‘The greatest of all, the most genuine novelist we have had in literature’
– Andr� Gide
‘Superb�…�The most addictive of writers�…�A unique teller of tales’
– Observer
‘The mysteries of the human personality are revealed in all their disconcerting complexity’
– Anita Brookner
‘A writer who, more than any other crime novelist, combined a high literary reputation with popular appeal’
– P. D. James
‘A supreme writer�…�Unforgettable vividness’
– Independent
‘Compelling, remorseless, brilliant’
– John Gray
‘Extraordinary masterpieces of the twentieth century’
– John Banville
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Georges Simenon was born on 12 February 1903 in Li�ge, Belgium, and died in 1989 in Lausanne, Switzerland, where he had lived for the latter part of his life. Between 1931 and 1972 he published seventy-five novels and twenty-eight short stories featuring Inspector Maigret.
Simenon always resisted identifying himself with his famous literary character, but acknowledged that they shared an important characteristic:
My motto, to the extent that I have one, has been noted often enough, and I’ve always conformed to it. It’s the one I’ve given to old Maigret, who resembles me in certain points�…�‘understand and judge not’.
Penguin is publishing the entire series of Maigret novels.
1. The Shadow Puppet
It was ten p.m. The iron gates of the public garden were locked and Place des Vosges was empty. Glistening tyre tracks on the asphalt, the continuous play of the fountains, leafless trees and the regular shapes of identical rooftops silhouetted against the sky.
There were few lights under the splendid arcades encircling the square. Only three or four shops. Inspector Maigret could see a family eating inside one of them, cluttered with beaded funeral wreaths.
He was trying to read the numbers above the doors, but he had barely passed the wreath shop when a diminutive form stepped out of the shadows.
‘Is it you I just telephoned?’
She must have been watching out for a long time. Despite the November cold, she had not slipped on a coat over her apron. Her nose was red, her eyes anxious.
Less than 400 metres away, on the corner of Rue de B�arn, a uniformed police officer stood guard.
‘Didn’t you inform him?’ grumbled Maigret.
‘No! Because of Madame de Saint-Marc, who’s about to give birth�…�Oh look! There’s the doctor’s car, he was asked to come straight away.’
There were three cars drawn up alongside the pavement, headlamps on, red rear lights. The sky, with its drifting clouds against a moonlit backdrop, had an ambiguous paleness. It felt as if the first snows were in the air.
The concierge turned under the archway at the building’s entrance, from which hung a twenty-five-candlepower bulb covered in a film of dust.
‘Let me explain. This is the courtyard – you have to cross it to get to all parts of the building, except for the two shops. This is my lodge on the left. Take no notice, I didn’t have time to put the children to bed.’
There were two of them, a boy and a girl, in the untidy kitchen. But the concierge didn’t go inside. She pointed to a long building, at the far end of the vast and beautifully proportioned courtyard.
‘It’s there. You’ll see.’
Maigret was intrigued by this curious little woman, whose restless hands betrayed her febrility.
‘There’s someone on the phone asking for a detective chief inspector!’ he had been told earlier at Quai des Orf�vres.
The voice on the other end was muffled. Several times he had repeated, ‘Please speak up, I can’t hear you.’
‘I can’t. I’m calling you from the tobacconist’s. So—’
And a garbled message followed.
‘You must come to 61, Place des Vosges right away�…�Yes�…�I think it’s a murder, but don’t tell anyone yet!’
And now the concierge was pointing at the tall first-floor windows. Behind the curtains, shadows could be seen coming and going.
‘It’s up there.’
‘The murder?’
‘No! Madame de Saint-Marc who’s giving birth�…�Her first�…�She’s not very strong. You understand?’
And the courtyard was even darker than Place des Vosges. It was illuminated by a single lamp on the wall. A staircase could just be made out on the other side of a glazed door, and there was the occasional lighted window.
‘What about the murder?’
‘I’m coming to that! Couchet’s workers left at six o’clock—’
‘Wait a moment. What is Couchet?’
‘The building at the far end. A laboratory where they make serums. You must have heard of Doctor Rivi�re’s Serums.’
‘And that lighted window?’
‘Wait. Today’s the 30th, so Monsieur Couchet was there. He’s in the habit of staying behind on his own after the offices have closed. I saw him through the window, sitting in his armchair. Look—’
A window with frosted-glass panes. A strange shadow, like that of a man slumped forward on his desk.
‘Is that him?’
‘Yes. Around eight o’clock, when I was emptying my rubbish bin, I glanced over in that direction. He was writing. You could clearly see the penholder or pencil in his hand.’
‘What time did the murder—’
‘Just a minute! I went upstairs to see how Madame de Saint-Marc was doing. I glanced over again when I came back down, and there he was, as he is now. Actually I thought he’d dozed off.’
Maigret was beginning to lose patience.
‘Then, fifteen minutes later—’
‘Yes! He was still in the same position! Get to the point.’
‘That’s all. I decided to check. I knocked on the office door. There was no answer so I went in. He’s dead. There’s blood everywhere.’
‘Why didn’t you go to the police? The police station is round the corner, in Rue de B�arn.’
Most helpful customer reviews
5 of 5 people found the following review helpful.
Maigret grows positively fond of the dead man
By Patto
This novel exemplifies everything I love about Maigret – the way the huge burly inspector lurks in the vicinity of the crime absorbing impressions; his habit of hanging around and chatting aimlessly with potential suspects, casually cranking them up; his unexpected bursts of fondness or compassion for various characters...
Maigret claims to have no method, yet his mere presence on the scene is a kind of method. It's great fun to watch him rattling a suspect with an expression of stupidity, an air of inattention, or a sudden roughness of manner. The unhurried pace of his investigation is always something to savor.
In this story, he grows unaccountably fond of the victim, Monsieur Coucher, wealthy owner of a health serum company shot dead in the presence of his empty safe. The good-natured Coucher lived life to the full. He had three women in his life – an elegant upper-class wife, a bitter ex-wife, and a charming young mistress. Maigret gets to know them quite well.
Simenon believed in writing novels that could be read in a day. The Shadow Puppet is certainly short and concise – not a word wasted – yet so dense with suggestive psychological undercurrents and unsettling atmosphere that it's totally satisfying and feels like it's taking place in real time.
I thought I'd read every Maigret novel available in English, but this one was new to me. I loved every minute of it. Although The Shadow a Puppet is an early Maigret, published in France in 1932, it already exhibits the understated wit, psychological nuances and haiku-like descriptions found in Simenon's best mysteries. The translation, I believe, successfully captures Simenon's inimitable style.
3 of 4 people found the following review helpful.
A young Simenon writes about a young Maigret.
By RDR
My favorite of the "early" Maigret's that I have read recently. This reader knows much more about the more mature Chief Inspector from having previously read so very many of Simenon's "later" Maigret's. A pleasure for the reader to imagine how much Simenon knew about the mature Maigret at the time he wrote The Shadow Puppet.
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Not his best
By Guy P. Pfeffermann
A work of Simenon's youth. Interesting mainly as a sketch of the world he was to flesh out in later Maigrets.
See all 9 customer reviews...
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