Lo dicho: Camilleri marcha a contracorriente del género negro. Donde el resto de los autores —no todos pero sí, al menos, los que se considera como puntales del género— se afana por incluir sofisticados aparatos que ayudan a encontrar todo tipo de pistas —y a darles un significado preciso, faltaba más—, o hacen a sus personajes trabajar en complejos laboratorios, a través de cuyas máquinas se enfrentan a crímenes de lo más estrambótico, en los que intervienen docenas de personas y que tienen alcances insospechados, Camilleri toma a Montalbano, lo sitúa en su pueblo —un pueblo rústico lo que, en nuestro presente posmoderno, no es ya una redundancia— y lo hace ocuparse de un caso ocurrido hace, ahora, casi setenta años. Y no solo lo hace ocuparse de él, sino que logra que al lector le interese ese mismo caso, que no deja de ser una trivialidad y un despropósito. Por si fuera poco, Camilleri tiene el tino de conseguir que el caso se resuelva de buena manera y, para redondearlo, logra tocar con él las fibras sensibles del lector. Una verdadera maravillaHasta ahí, perfecto. Sin embargo —y perdón por traer a colación así, de la nada, a este ominoso sin embargo, que antecede a cualquier cantidad de argumentos negativos—, hay dos problemas. El primero, que en alguna que otra ocasión se le escapan a Camilleri frases bobas o frases obvias. En todo caso, frases que no tendrían razón de estar ahí porque reafirman una impresión ya lograda por el lector. Son, podría decirse, una cuchufleta. El segundo es un poco más grave: hay un hilo suelto —como de costumbre, le recomiendo que deje usted de leer estos comentarios si tiene la intención de hacerse con la novela—. Puede ser que no pero, en mi opinión, el asunto de la amenaza que es lanzada contra Montalbano no termina de explicarse nunca. Peor aún, no hay modo de saber si los dos tipos a los que mata —o el que mata y al que hiere, y del que no se sabe en qué termina— son los responsables de esa misma amenaza. La mafia aparece en un segundo plano... y nada más. No hace nada. No actúa. Queda,según he comentado, como un hilo suelto. El hilo suelto que le roba la quinta estrella de calificación a una obra que, por todo lo demás, es excelente, y que muestra ya de forma más marcada las características que tendrán el resto de los libros de Montalbano, en los que resulta más importante zamparse un plato de salmonetes de roca bien fritos —mismos que, penosamente, no alcanzo a imaginar cómo serán o a qué sabrán, lo que no es obstáculo para que, cada que aparecen en los relatos, comience yo a salivar— que correr en pos de unos maleantes a los que, de cualquier modo, se habrá de echar el guante porque la vida es así, porque Sicilia es así y porque la trama es así. Simple. Sin mayores complicaciones de tipo técnico porque se hallan volcadas, y de qué forma, a la parte emotiva del asunto.
Bodies pile up fast and easy in Andrea Camilleri's The Terra Cotta Dog but I understand why readers would consider the series to be on the lighter end of the mystery spectrum, straddling the genres of cozy and the grittier police procedural. For one thing, Inspector Salvo Montalbano thinks more deeply about about literature and anchovy dishes than the criminals he has to deal with in his hometown of Vigata, a fictional town situated in Sicily. The story is also bouyed by the humor, often derived from Montalbano's filthy wisecracks at the expense of his friends and co-workers.This second installment begins with an uneasy rendezvous between the inspector and a notorious mafia operator. From there, a series of seemingly unconnected events occupy their little police station--from a baffling robbery at a supermarket, the suspicious accident of an ornery old man, to the discovery of a forgotten murder scene that dates back to Italy's Fascist period.I don't really want to reveal too much because the freewheeling narrative turns are what makes the book thoroughly engaging. Camilleri builds upon the world he has set up in The Shape of the Water and leisurely provides it with depth, notably through the reminiscence of Italy's none-too-heroic World War II experience. The gag about Montalbano's phobia towards promotion also never fails to make me chuckle and I'm more than okay with them milking it. Minor characters and their quirks shine here--most notable are the buffoonish Catarella, the ambitious Mimi, and Montalbano's long-distance long-suffering lover, Livia. The final mystery that Montalbano pursues may seem trivial for some given the amount of action present in the first half of the novel, but his obsession with the 50-year old death of two young lovers says so much about his character. He is a romantic who dons the coat of a cynic for work everyday. He is exceptional as a detective, a bloodhound through and through, yet sometimes the reader gets glimpses of a philosopher.Read on my blog.
What do You think about The Terra-Cotta Dog (2005)?
This is the sequel to "The Shape of Water," a Sicilian mystery novel featuring the fabulous Inspector Montalbano. While the first novel, even with the exceptional translation by Stephen Sartarelli, was a little difficult for me to “get into,” the wacky characters and Camilleri’s sardonic humor were refreshing. Here, Camilleri has me hooked on page one with an incredible, twisted plot and crazy characters. Reading one scene, I laughed so hard I had to set the book aside until I could calm myself down. Every other word, brilliantly translated by Sartarelli, had me in stitches. Yet the novel is also brutally bleak and realistic, mixing humor with pathos in quick, pithy scenes. I will be reading more about Inspector Montalbano, for sure.
—Jennifer Sowle
First Sentence:tTo judge from the entrance the dawn was making, it promised to be a very iffy day—that is, blasts of angry sunlight one minute, fits of freezing rain the next, all of it seasoned with sudden gusts of wind—one of those days when someone who is sensitive to abrupt shifts in weather and suffers them in his blood and brain is likely to change opinion and direction continuously, like those sheets of tin, cut in the shape of banners and rooster, that spin every which way on rooftops with each new puff of wind.I appreciate a good analogy and so enjoyed the opening paragraph of this book. Camilleri creates a very strong sense of place with his evocative descriptions.The author has also created a strong, interesting character in Montalbano. He is a study in contrasts; calm facing a Mafia chief in a tense situation, yet goes into panic before the press; he can be quite crass, yet also very sensitive “That morning, by surprising the two kids making love, he had desecrated life; and now, by exposing the two bodies that should have remained forever unknown to the world in their embrace, he had desecrated death.” He has a morbid fear of being promoted and suffers from mild synesthesia which converts smells into colors for him.tThere is very good dialogue, including amusing non-sequesters, which adds realism to the story as well as retaining a sense of Italy. The plot is intriguing and clever as it is one thread which leads to another, but it is the character of Montalbano who really kept me reading. “The Terra-Cotta Dog” was a very enjoyable read and Camilleri and wonderful addition to my list of authors.THE TERRA-COTTA DOG (Pol Proc-Insp. Salvo Montalbano-Sicily-Contemp) – G+Camilleri, Andrea – 2nd in seriesViking, 2002
—LJ
I enjoyed The Terra-Cotta Dog quite a bit but mostly for sentimental reasons. I'm new to the series but only came to them from recommendations from my father. He liked this series a lot as well as the Brunetti books from Donna Leon. I suspect that he liked the Montalbano character a bit more because, like Montalbano, my dad was obsessed by good food and good meals. Montalbano's mood and detective skills are greatly affected by the quality of his food intake. Before my father passed away he had bought a bunch of mysteries at the Seattle Mystery Bookshop. This paperback was in his stack -along with the great Briarpatch. I'm glad I was able to share some of the books with him although I would have preferred to talk about them with him as opposed to taking the books after his passing.
—Kenneth
