The poor are used to stifling any expression of their despair, because they must get on with life, with work, with the demands made of them day after day, hour after hour.
Showing posts with label Crime. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Crime. Show all posts
Sunday, 20 November 2016
Georges Simenon: The Hanged Man of Saint-Pholien
Georges Simenon: Pietr the Latvian
What he sought, what he waited and watched out for was the crack in the wall. In other words, the instant when the human being comes out from behind the opponent . . .
"Good Lord! Is this the way you search for someone?" she snapped, turning to Maigret. "I'm told you're from the police. My husband may have been killed.... What are you waiting for?"
The heavy gaze that he turned on her was a hundred percent Maigret. Utterly calm. Utterly indifferent. As though he had just heard a fly buzzing. As though he were looking at some completely commonplace object.
Labels:
Crime,
France,
Georges Simenon,
Pietr the Latvian
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