Manny Rayner's book reviews

I've reviewed several books in the Brigade Mondaine series (see my 'trash' shelf), but never really explained what the series as whole is about. This was the very first one - I was fortunate enough to find a used copy at a flea market in France. It was astonishing to see that they already had the formula pretty much complete right at the start, and just copied it faithfully for a couple of hundred more books. Recently, misguided people at the franchise have tried to modernize it, with disastrous results. La Société Internationale des Amateurs de la Brigade Mondaine has done what it can to bring them to their senses, but I fear that it's already too late. So treat this review as a piece of nostalgic history.

The two main characters in the books are Boris Corentin, ace detective at the Paris Brigade Mondaine (vice squad), and his faithful partner Aimé ("Mémé") Brichot. It's a kind of Holmes and Watson deal. Boris is the dashing, ruggedly handsome athlete, permanently 35 and showing just a few gray hairs around his temples. He is, needless to say, célibataire: this doesn't in any way mean that he's celibate, just that none of his numerous conquests have yet managed to trap him into marriage. There's a long-term girlfriend called Ghislaine, with whom he has a non-exclusive on-and-off relationship, so don't imagine he lacks emotional depth. He's also got a great knowledge of French poetry, which can come in useful in the most surprising circumstances; indeed, in La Griffe de L'Ange, his timely recollection of a verse from Baudelaire even saves his life. An all-round kind of guy, as you can see. No wonder the chicks find him irresistible.

Mémé is about the same age, but shy, balding, and married with kids. He's devoted to his wife, Jeannette. I thought at first that he was completely faithful to her, but in fact he occasionally finds one of the gorgeous women who throw themselves at him a little too tempting to pass up. He worships Boris, but would die rather than admit it. One of the endearing conventions is that the books always refer to Boris as his flèche, including a footnote early on which explains that this word means "senior partner in a team of two detectives". (In general, the series loves footnotes, which are sometimes absurdly long and informative). Another detail I like is that, despite the fact that they have known each other forever, and Boris is frequently invited around to dinner, Boris and Jeannette always call each other formally vous. I suppose that if they ever slipped into using the informal tu, one thing could lead to another, with consequences I don't even want to think about. It would be worse than Bond having a fling with M.

The Boris/Mémé opposition is, in my humble opinion, the main reason why the books are so successful. I imagine that most readers are, like me, hunky athletes besieged by a constant stream of strikingly attractive, barely-dressed women; they identify with Boris, and dream of happy domesticity with a loving wife like Jeannette and some cute kids. The books do a good job of describing the terrifying, soul-shattering monotony of Boris's romantic life. Try as he will, every woman he gets involved with is exactly the same: their jambes are always fuselées (generally gainées de noir under a mini-jupe ultra-courte), their croupes are always rebondissantes, and their generous poitrines, as a rule barely concealed by un T-shirt tendu à craquer, are always deux têtes d'obus. If they stay the night, they invariably insist on waking him up too early en lui faisant une pipe. Boris shows great courage in stoically enduring this existentialist nightmare, and I can't recall a single time when I've heard him complain. As already noted, he's an admirable person.

If I haven't sold you on the series by now, I never will. I have far too many old Brigade Mondaine sitting on my bookshelf; if you promise to review them, I'll be happy to pass them on to other people who want to improve their French vocabulary. Two adventurous GoodReaders have already availed themselves of this positively unrepeatable offer. Hurry while stock lasts!

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I posted this review nearly a year ago, and several people wrote in asking for French trash. I duly sent off copies, and I'm delighted to say that Choupette has now posted two French trash reviews of her own (Que La Bête Meure and La Villa Du Cap D'Antibes). Bravo Choupette! I still have books left if anyone else is tempted...