Louise Penny. The Long Way Home.
New York: Minotaur Books, 2014.
As reviewed by Ted Odenwald
“A balm to heal the wounded…sin-sick soul.” That is what retired Chief Inspector Armand Gamache is seeking in the tranquility of Three Pines, the sequestered village in Quebec that is the site of many of Penny’s novels. Each day Gamache sits alone, mulling over the comforting words in a book for helping tormented souls.
The former inspector is deeply troubled by all of the evil forces that have damaged him physically, mentally, and spiritually: the corrupt and ruthless members of the Surete, who attempted to kill him and effect a violent overthrow of the provincial government; and his son-in-law and former assistant, Jean-Guy Beauvoir, who had betrayed him after his addiction to painkillers and alcohol had been exploited by Gamache’s enemies. Armand is also deeply troubled by the emotions that had driven him to kill his enemies.
But readers of Penny’s nine other “Inspector” novels realize that while the man may be somewhat depressed and introspective, he will never be a recluse. In spite of his strong wishes to withdraw, he is so attuned to the needs of others—so gifted at rooting out patterns of evil—and so generous in giving of himself that even in retirement he feels obligated to seek the truth in order to set someone’s world aright.
Clara Morrow, a noted abstract artist and resident of Three Pines, intrudes on Gamache’s reveries several mornings, until she finally reveals her own wounds. A year earlier, she separated from her husband, Peter, a painter whose work was technically brilliant but soulless. Peter had jealously attempted to ruin Clara’s career. They had agreed to meet exactly one year after separating, but Peter has failed to reappear, filling Clara with a deep sense of fear and guilt.
The challenge for Gamache involves more than finding Peter. “…what would happen if [the inspector] left? And went back into that world he knew better than most, knew was not just imagination?” He has found spiritual liberation in his daily rituals. He had retired “to avoid collecting more bad memories,” and to “begin to let go of his old burdens.” But Clara’s plea for help stirs his kind, generous spirit, and renews his passion for seeking truth.
A visit to Peter’s mother reveals that she has never accepted her son’s vocational choice; nor has she recognized his artistic accomplishments—finding shortcomings in all of his efforts—perhaps explaining Peter’s jealous reactions to Clara’s notoriety. A visit to other relatives yields evidence of a recent major, perhaps even disastrous, alteration in Peter’s artwork. Whereas in the past, he had used muted colors, now he has used bright, clashing colors; in the past he had controlled his images tightly, but now they are “chaotic, unruly, slapdash”; his earlier works had been “painfully self-satisfied, even pretentious,” but they are now “silly and playful”; he had formerly stuck to the rules, but now he has broken them.
While Clara fears that Peter’s changes might hint at madness or contemplated suicide, Ruth, Three Pines’ resident poet, sees hope in his work. “Any real act of creation, “she says, “is first an act of destruction…we don’t build on the old, we tear it down. And start over.” She believes that he is happy “…experimenting, … searching. He’d left all that was artistically safe behind. He’d broken the ropes,–the rules, and sailed off leaving the known world behind. He was having the time of his life.”
Gamache discovers that Peter had traveled to Paris and then to Scotland. From there he had returned to Canada, eventually venturing into the wilds of Quebec province at the mouth of the St. Lawrence River. In Paris, rather than exploring the iconic art museums, he had resided for months in a “community for adults and children with Down’s Syndrome.” It was a place “which offered dignity, equality, and belonging.” He had apparently gone there to better himself. Dumfries, Scotland provided more of a puzzle because it was a remote town. By sending e-mail attachment photos of Peter’s newest art, Gamache learns from a Scottish inspector that the artist had spent some time in “The Garden of Cosmic Speculation,” a local site, which is the mixture of that which is man-made and natural. There are “bold sculptures representing various scientific themes mixed with tall trees to form a forest man-made, nature-made. Almost indistinguishable.” Had Peter found his new direction in this place “where questions were planted. And grew. Where uncertainty flourished.”?
The inspector also traces the art school backgrounds of Peter and Clara at the Ontario College of Canadian Art. During his student years, Peter had been praised for his work, which had been “detailed, precise, controlled, technically brilliant.” Clara’s work, derided as “a dog’s breakfast,” had been relegated, along with the works of others who dared to think outside the rules, to the Salon de Refuses (rejects). Professor Massey of the art school fears that Peter may have fallen under the spell of a former art professor, Norman, whom he claims had gone insane while pursuing a tenth muse which would lead artists away from traditional practices. If Peter has joined with this man, will he be endangered? For, “if Norman was insane thirty years earlier, what would he be like now?”
Clara and Gamache follow Peter’s trail by plane and boat until they reach the commune that Norman had created near the mouth of the St. Lawrence River. The commune has for years attracted many excited artists. The wildness of the area mirrors the wildness of the uncivilized, the unstructured, and the unfettered world of the true artist. Here Clara discovers that Peter has attained his goal—that he has found Norman’s tenth muse.
The closing of the novel should be celebratory because each key character has achieved his or her main goals; but there is an air of ambivalence as each character realizes that the building of the new and exciting may require destruction of the old and comfortable. Peter has apparently found the balm to heal his soul. Perhaps Gamache has found the balm for his wounded soul in his discovery that the tenth muse is kindness—certainly a quality that he has always possessed.
Ted Odenwald and his wife, Shirley have lived in Oakland for 45 years. He taught HS English at Glen Rock High School for all of those years plus one more. Now he is enjoying time spent with his family, singing in the North Jersey Chorus and quenching his wanderlust. Ted is also the Worship Leader at the Ramapo Valley Baptist Church in Oakland.