The Temptation of Forgiveness by Donna Leon

Genre: police procedural

Summary:

When a woman requests his help with her teen son’s suspected drug abuse, Venetian Commissario Guido Brunetti knows that there’s little he can do. What does she expect–a deus ex machina? Then the woman’s husband is found unconscious with a traumatic brain injury near a canal bridge. Is there a connection between the teen’s drug habit and his father’s condition? With few other investigative leads, Brunetti explores the possibility. Yet the truth is far more complicated. Aided by a resourceful secretary (or is she a hacker?), two expert colleagues, and his own intuition, Brunetti follows contradictory leads to learn what happened to the man.

The victim will likely die. The soon-to-be widow is in denial. Witnesses are missing, lying, and delusional. The police bureaucracy is concerned more with busy work than justice. But Brunetti carries on in his own thoughtful way. During breaks, he reads Sophocles’ Antigone. (Yes, this is relevant.) When it comes, the truth is more complex and nuanced than in the average mystery. It reflects another truth: there are no easy answers to difficult moral issues.

My thoughts on the book.

This is my first Donna Leon novel, but apparently this novel is number 27 (!) in the Brunetti series. Obviously, there are a lot of people who love Guido Brunetti.

At first, I really wasn’t certain I liked the book. Sitting up in bed, reading the first few chapters, I wrote notes like, “Opening feels slow and not compelling” and “Brunetti on way to work–did they go through fog or not?” Then the tenor of the notes changed. Huge stars and arrows point this way and that. Halfway through a page, the handwriting is messier, evidence that I was writing faster. More huge stars and arrows, including one linking the “not compelling” note with another:

“But how much was b/c of the distracting environment where I was reading?”

My husband and the teen and the tween were all in the bedroom, too, playing a rowdy game of “let’s stump the middle-schooler.” So while I was reading (or trying to read) the first chapter, I was hearing two family members asking, “So, who’s Nancy Pelosi?” “Ted Cruz’s wife!” Followed by hysterical laughter and bouncing on the bed.

(Dear reader, this is why you should banish other people to the dungeon while reading a book. Or at least the living room.)

Amazingly enough, the change in my notes happened when the environment changed. Imagine that.

Back to the novel.

Once past that initial hurtle, I enjoyed the book.

It’s a quiet, thoughtful mystery, just like Brunetti is a quiet, thoughtful man.

He reminds me a bit of P.D. James’ Adam Dalgliesh or Louise Penny’s Armand Gamache. They all appreciate good literature, love their wives, and treat others with courtesy and respect. If they have to refrain from speaking their minds to their dimwitted, never-should’ve-been-promoted supervisors, so be it. Unlike those other two series, though, Leon’s book has a leisurely pace. (It reminded me a bit of Alexander McCall Smith’s “mysteries” in this way.) This is Venice. There’s always time for a cup of coffee or a scrumptious meal or good conversation with an old friend.

Brunetti’s a wonderful character. He rarely remembers to carry his gun, as he keeps his locked in a box on his underwear shelf and the bullets locked in a box in the kitchen closet. He notices details like buttonholes. He has to think about why he treats a not-so-bright police officer with kindness.

His family is equally well-drawn. Chiara, his young teen daughter, is earnest in her desire to change the world and treats the family to social justice tirades at dinner. Raffi, his older son, quotes Greek and borrows his father’s shampoo without asking permission. Paola, his wife, is busy with her own work, but she and Brunetti spend time together reading or discussing issues.

With Leon’s books, we’re getting an insider’s view of Venice.

Most of the books set in Venice are written and narrated by outsiders. Even if they’re knowledgeable about the culture, they’re baffled by it. They know that native Venetians keep secrets and that everything is not as it seems. But they can’t quite figure out what those secrets are. (As Laurie R. King’s Sherlock remarks, “It is a place of masks over masks.”)

Here, Brunetti is part of the culture. He senses who are native to Venice.

“He didn’t need to hear them speaking dialect; their clothing and the unconscious ease with which they walked–not on the alert for something quaint to photograph” (pg. 40).

It’s fascinating to see Venice through his eyes.

Bottom line:

If you’re looking for thrills, chills, and (um, what else rhymes here–ills?), this might not be the book for you. If you enjoy quieter mysteries, you might enjoy The Temptation of Forgiveness.

Bonus tip for writers:

Don’t be afraid to be quiet and thoughtful in your work.

Not everything has to be fast, driven forward at breakneck speed with cliffhangers and racing pulses and stay up all night because Oh-My-Gosh-I-Could-NOT-STOP-READING-THIS-BOOK!!!! There’s a place for that, sure. Those books are fun to read! Goodness knows we need fun in our lives. Those books’ popularity reflects the current idea to hook the reader until they never put the book down.

I’ll make the case, though, that there’s a place for books that we do put down–that we do have to stop reading momentarily–because their ideas and words force us to ponder the world. There’s still microtension in the prose. But the quiet reflections of Leon’s characters allow them (and us) to think before reacting. (Brunetti learns this, to his chagrin!) I had to take breaks while reading because I wanted to think about the statements Leon was making. Which brings me to tip #2:

Don’t be afraid to make social statements in your work.

Brunetti, his wife, and his colleagues all make strong and sometimes contradictory statements about social issues. Gender inequality, economic issues, political corruption. Leon presents some nuanced and complex ideas in her work. They aren’t always politically “correct” or easy. (It’s rather like the arguments Sophocles’ presents in Antigone. I love that play: my first –and only–academic publication focused on gender roles in Antigone; when the academic journal folded, my paper disappeared, only to resurface on one of those sites where you pay money to buy papers for “research purposes only.” Whatever.) Anyway, I enjoy complexity.

Want more? Read this interview with Donna Leon in The New York Times.

Want more books set in Venice? Here’s another four crime/mystery novels set in this beautiful city!