Black Diamond by Martin Walker: A review

A trip to the rural countryside of southwestern France seemed like a good option for a few summer days' read. Martin Walker's "Bruno, Chief of Police" series has been dependably entertaining, so I picked up the next book in the series and immersed myself in the culture and concerns of the little town of Saint-Denis where men are manly, women are womanly, and children are mostly offstage except when their presence is required for dramatic effect.

The life of Saint-Denis revolves around wine, cooking, rugby, affairs of the heart, cheese, and truffles. Oh, and politics. Politics seems at the heart of most activities in the community.

We soon learn in Black Diamond that all is not wine and truffles in the lives of the citizens of the town. Tensions have arisen over immigrants coming into the area, some of whom have entered illegally, aided by human smugglers.

As the story develops, we learn that the Chinese are at the center of the smuggling operation and they are clashing with local Vietnamese residents, most of whom came to France (or their parents did) after the French pulled out of Vietnam in the 1950s. Vietnamese businesses are being attacked by Asian assailants, who, it turns out, are Chinese, emissaries of the despised and feared Chinese triads.

But why? Why has this antipathy developed? Well, it all has to do with truffles.

The creme de la creme, so to speak, of the truffle world is the "black diamond" which grows only in the French countryside, but the Chinese have found a way to smuggle some of their own truffles into the country and substitute them for the black diamonds. It's all a part of a gigantic fraud and money laundering scheme which threatens the good name of the French truffle market and the economy which it helps to support.

Meanwhile, there is a secondary plot line having to do with the supposedly environmentalist prodigal son of a local industrialist returning home and deciding to run for mayor against his father and against the current mayor, Bruno Courreges' friend and mentor. Moreover, Bruno's current girlfriend, Pamela, is strongly attracted to the environmentalist.

Ah, it is a tangled web! It becomes even more tangled when a local hero of the French wars in Vietnam and Algeria and one of Bruno's hunting companions (another Manly Man) is brutally murdered and it appears that his murder is somehow related to the firebombing of Vietnamese businesses. Bruno must work with the national police to try to solve the crimes.

It's interesting that in each book of this series that I have so far read the central crime is related back to the victim's wartime experience or somehow connected to France's wars. I wonder if these wars continue to be omnipresent in the minds of French citizens in the twenty-first century. But then we know that the past is never dead; it isn't even past.

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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