The Accident on the A35

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In conclusion I was impressed by Graeme Macrea Burnet's skills as a writer and reading this novel has reinforced the high opinion I formed of him when reading His Bloody Project; he has intrigued and inspired me to read The Disappearance of Adele Bedeau. The Accident on the A35 is the second book in the Georges Gorski series by award-winning Scottish author, Graeme Macrae Burnet. It looked pretty straightforward: Bertrand Bethelme’s Mercedes had run off the A35 into a tree, sometime after 9pm on Tuesday night. He probably fell asleep at the wheel. But after confirming his identity the following morning, his widow, Lucette raised a query: where had her husband been that night? His usual Tuesday night dinner with his club would not put him anywhere near the A35. This is a subtle book about a man living a hidden life and what transpires after his death. The reader must not mind that a crime isn’t solved or is it that there was no crime at all? The mystery at the centre of the book is fairly straightforward. A lawyer, Bertrand Barthelme, in a small French town is killed in what looks an accident late at night but on a road he shouldn't be on if he was where he told his wife. When Chief Inspector Georges Gorski informs the man's young and attractive wife of his death, she asks him to find out where her husband had been that night. Bertrand's 17 year old son, Raymond decides to carry out his own investigation into his father's movements that night. Not a word of criticism in this review because I can find nothing to criticise. I loved every lean and beautifully placed word of this slim book, and was wholly absorbed from beginning to end. It deserves and gets my highest recommendation – superb!

I read straight through its small-printed chapters of a defeated, mildly miserable detective and an even more defeated, miserable teenage boy; wandered through the bleak compromised labyrinth Burnet had built for them; and then… Well, there is no then. There's only a translator's afterword that is even funnier than the foreword. There’s something a bit Wes Anderson about Graeme Macrae Burnet. There’s a dry humour to his characters. It’s hard not to love. He skilfully portrays absurdity and contradictions of characters that have a very strong sense of self. I was introduced to Scottish author, Graeme Macrae Burnet, with His Blood Project, shortlisted for the Booker prize in 2016. A brilliant novel and one worth every 5 stars I gave it. Given the opportunity to read his Accident on the A35, I jumped at it.A five-year-old girl inside the BMW died while an eight-year-old girl who was in the same car remains in hospital with serious injuries. The third person narrative of the books drifts between different perspectives. This is very pleasing. It allows you an insight into the characters thoughts without too much exposition. The way the narration is handled in scenes where both of the main characters feature is masterful. The introduction of these characters is seamless. Once again Graeme Macrae Burnet adds a foreword and afterword which explain how the story is a rediscovered lost manuscript by the book's actual author, Raymond Brunet (who also wrote The Disappearance of Adèle Bedeau). It all adds another layer of playfulness to a very satisfying read.

Let’s get a look,” she said, holding her hand out. I passed her the book. “Mmmm,” she murmured sarcastically, eyeing the cover. “Sounds… interesting.” And that's all I'll say for the story itself: it would be shame to give too much away. A couple weeks ago I wrote of Pierre Lemaitre's Three Days and a Life that it reminded me of Simenon and Highsmith, only to wonder this week at my narrow range of reference – because this book really reminded me of Simenon, almost to the point of parody. Now I suspect that was exactly the point. Faux-Maigret. The story opens when a lawyer is killed in a road accident, the titular "accident on the A35". It appears a routine accident however Georges Gorski wonders where the lawyer was prior to the accident and this query opens a can of worms which sustains the rest of the book. This is on the face of it a crime novel, but the quality of the writing, the depth of the characterisation, the creation of place and time and the intelligence of the game the author plays with the reader all raise it so that it sits easily into the literary fiction category, in my opinion at the highest level.Accident on the A35 is a literary mystery. Not like other crime mysteries that are plot-driven with many twists and turns. It’s important to step into this novel realizing you are about to read an easy flowing mystery that is character-driven.

The proprietor carefully placed a bottle on a paper doily in front of him. Then he lit a cigarette himself. Usually in such a situation, the proprietor of a bar will busy himself with some menial task- polishing glasses or wiping down surfaces - so that his customer does not feel self conscious about drinking alone. Or he will feel the need to offer some banal remarks. But the proprietor of the cafe on the corner of Rue Saint-Fiacre did neither of these things. He simply stood behind the counter, watching Gorski with a placid expression.” Gorski had no time for the idea of human nature. It was a meaningless idea people used to absolve themselves of responsibility for their own actions…

Our live feed has now finished.

An investigation is underway into this collision and I am appealing to anyone who witnessed what happened to please come forward.

The narration has the simple momentum of classic crime writing, heavy on lit cigarettes, light on subordinate clauses. Irresponsibly drawn to Lucette – he knows he’s a fool – Gorski digs for dirt on Bertrand, who at the time of his death was not (as his wife believed) returning from a traditional midweek supper with colleagues. That was Bertrand’s cover story – but for what? Why did he secretly withdraw a large wad of cash every Tuesday morning? And isn’t it odd that the damage to his Mercedes doesn’t seem consistent with hitting a tree? His Bloody Project was presented as a collection of documents unearthed by Burnet as he traced his family tree. This time he’s the translator of a French writer named Raymond Brunet, who after publishing The Disappearance of Adèle Bedeau killed himself in 1992. Two decades later, on the death of his mother, lawyers acting for Raymond (mark the name) sent his publisher a parcel containing the manuscript of L’Accident sur l’A35. Now the whole novel is seen as a real life description linked in to the memory of Raymond Brunet who is narrating his own experiences through the character of Raymond Barthelme. As the reader we are considering the macrocosm of Graeme Macrae Burnet, the overall author, manipulating the characters of Raymond Brunet, the sub author, and the smaller characters of George Gorski and Raymond Brunet. I find this an extremely intelligent device to add depth and emotion to the novel. Notice the spelling of the real author Burnet and the spelling of the fictitious author Brunet. When I first glanced at my copy of the book I thought that there had been a typographical error at the editing stage, until it was pointed out by my husband that there was a spelling differentiation and that the similarity was intentional. Here the reality and the fiction is blurred. All the other characters we meet along the way are just as well-drawn, building up a complete picture of the two neighbouring societies at the heart of the story. Despite the relative brevity of the book, the secondary characters are allowed to develop over time, making them feel rounded and true. Short sketches of people who appear only for moments in a café or on the street all add to the understanding of the culture, which in turn adds to our understanding of how it has formed and shaped our main characters, Raymond and Gorski. Not a word is wasted – with the briefest of descriptions, Burnet can create a person who feels real, solid, entire, as if they might be a neighbour we've known all our life. There is an introduction and an afterword, and it's essential to read them both. The book is presented as a manuscript come to light years after the author's death, and translated by Burnet from the original French. This device is crucial in getting the full impact of what follows, but I'll go no further than that since the journey is best taken without a roadmap. This is actually the second book featuring Inspector Gorski. I haven't read the first one, The Disappearance of Adèle Bedeau, but didn't find that presented a problem – this one works entirely as a standalone.While any follow up is unnecessary, as Chief Inspector, Gorski decides he will make some enquiries for the attractive young widow. And the inconsistencies he uncovers, coupled with a puzzling reticence displayed by the dead man’s colleagues and friends soon has Gorski intrigued, and determined to find out just what’s been going on. Meanwhile, Raymond Bethelme, the accident victim’s 17-year-old son, is conducting a sort of enquiry of his own, based on a scrap of paper found in his father’s desk drawer. When Bertrand Barthelme runs his car off the A35 into a tree one evening and dies, Inspector Georges Gorski has no reason to think it was anything other than an unfortunate accident. But Barthelme's widow thinks there's something odd about her husband having been at that spot at that time and asks Gorski to look into it a bit more. Mme Barthelme is an attractive 40-something with more than a touch of the femme fatale in this first meeting, so Gorski finds himself agreeing. Meantime, Barthelme's 17-year-old son Raymond starts a kind of investigation of his own, in an attempt to learn more about the father with whom he had always had a rather cold, distant relationship. Both investigations will head off in unexpected directions. One more thing: the metafictional nods in the introduction and epilogue work very nicely this time; I was less keen on them with the previous novel but this time they add an entirely new dimension to the reading of this book. I can't and won't say why, but all becomes very clear.