The Critic: A Tasty Past Vintage

 

The Critic (2007)

By Peter May

Riverrun Books, 388 pages

★★★★

 

 

 

Here’s another gem from the League of Women Voters Book Sale. Scottish mystery writer Peter May is probably best known for The Lewis Trilogy, but his best known investigator is the half-Italian/half-Scottish (Lor)Enzo Alexander Macleod. The Critic was just May’s second what would eventually be a seven-book Enzo series. Each can stand alone, so sequential reading is not necessary.

 

In it I saw both May’s early promise and how he quickly evolved. The Critic is set in southern France where Enzo seeks to reopen a cold case involving the disappearance of Gil Perry after a recent book poses the possibility of foul play. Perry was a wine critic so influential that his ratings could make or break a vineyard. He was last seen in the Occitan/Languedoc region of southern France.

 

Local gendarme Daniel Roussel thinks that’s rubbish and holds a typical distrust of outsiders. Small wonder in Macleod’s case. He’s in his 50s, divorced, semi-estranged from his children, sports a ponytail, and hasn’t exactly been hitting the gym. What could a man such as he know about wine or reviving a cold case. Quite a bit actually; Macleod speaks fluent French and knows his wines. More to the point, he knows even more about forensics, which he teaches at the University of Toulouse, though locals distrust that sort of thing even more than foreigners.

 

The nearby towns of Albi and Cahors were once the center of the Albigensian heresy of the 13^th century, but you’d not guess that given how tradition-bound it became, especially in its chauvinistic attitudes about wine. Laurent de Bonneval, for instance, is a key leader in l’Ordre de la Dive Bouteille. He’s so devoted to natural wines that he can hardly mention American vintages without spitting because he believes they contain synthetic yeast. You can imagine what he and other farmers think of Enzo, who rents a farm gîte (furnished unit) under the easily blown cover that he’s there for wine and rest. When the owners find out his real agenda, they want him gone though they need the extra income more than they dislike Enzo and the way he rearranged a farm wall.

 

Enzo certainly isn’t getting in a lot of relaxation, but he does his best to consume numerous local bottles. Enzo cast smore suspicion when Nicole Lefeuille, one of his students, shows up to assist, locals jump to conclusions when they notice her large breasts and youth. Yes, this really is a conservative part of France! Actually, Nicole is more interested in Fabien Marre, one of Enzo’s top suspects, and has no problem telling Enzo her extracurriculars fall into the MYOB category. He fears she’s in grave danger, but one of the intriguing things about Macleod is how often he gets things wrong.

 

Besides, his own complicated affairs of the heart don’t provide much moral high ground. When his daughters appear, he takes an instant dislike to Kirsty’s boyfriend Roger. Okay, Roger did once sleep with Enzo’s on again/off again girlfriend Charlotte, so that’s creepy. Still,  Kirsty isn’t about to submit to lectures from a papa who’s not above putting the moves on a married female judge. Macleod has reservations about daughter Sophie’s boyfriend as well; Bertrand looks like a Mohawked punk rocker, but it turns out he is a wine supertaster. Many are the egoists who think they can tell vintages, types of grapes, the soils in which they were grown, distinct smells, and the “notes” of wines (pear, vanilla, stone, old leather, etc.), but only a very small number of supertasters can actually do so. The missing Gil Perry was another. 

 

What’s a mystery without a few pickled bodies? Ancient hatreds, jealousy, fear, tragedy, coded ratings, and forensics all come into play before Enzo muddles his way to the bottom (in more ways than one) of the situation. The Critic has a few misfires, such as what’s-under-the-kilt jokes that were shopworn even in 2007, clichéd beat-the-clock escapes, and a maudlin backstory involving a dog, but it’s a book you’ll find yourself plowing through in a few sittings because of May’s facility in building suspense. It would be apt if you felt compelled to have a glass of wine or two while reading. No California plonk, though.

 

Rob Weir

 

Note: The book contained a phrase from Rabelais that I love: “I have nothing. I owe a great deal, and the rest I leave to the poor.”