Review of WE WERE THE SALT OF THE SEA by Roxanne Bouchard

3 Stars

I’m always interested in reading Canadian authors so when I came across Roxanne Bouchard’s name, I decided to read this, the first of her Detective Moralès series. 

Most of the action is set in 2007 in a small fishing community on the Gaspé Peninsula.  Catherine Day arrives there looking for her mother Marie Garant, though she doesn’t share this with the inhabitants who befriend her.  Then Marie’s body is found in a fishing net.  DS Joaquin Moralès, who has just been transferred to the area, is put in charge of the case.  His initial investigation is rather perfunctory because he is distracted by events in his personal life and because the locals are not forthcoming with information.

This is not an action-packed book.  Considerable time is spent on developing the rather quirky characters who live in the village.  Having grown up in a small town, I can attest that the environment of a small town is conveyed realistically:  everyone knows everyone and everyone’s business, including relationships and family histories.  There is no difficulty in differentiating amongst the town’s residents since virtually all have a unique manner of speech:  Father Leblanc begins most sentences with “In truth”; Renaud keeps repeating “let me tell you”; Vital swears “Christ in a chalice” every time he appears; Victor stutters; and the coroner always uses the conditional “ought to.”  Because Cyrille wheezes, his dialogue is always interspersed with “heee.”  Unfortunately, these verbal tics become tiresome after a while.  Does “heee” have to be repeated over 250 times? 

The series is named after Detective Moralès, but in many ways he doesn’t seem to be as integral a character as is usually the case in detective fiction.  He also doesn’t seem to possess the traits of an experienced police officer.  And then his mid-life crisis takes precedence over his investigation.  The focus is more on his journey of self-discovery. 

Of course Catherine is also on a journey of self-discovery.  She feels purposeless, that life is passing her by, and she doesn’t know what to do with her future.  The author goes to great pains to suggest that Catherine is like her mother, a beautiful siren who leaves men pining for her.  This didn’t work for me.  Marie is a mysterious figure who behaved unpredictably and aroused strong emotions, whether love or jealousy, in others.  What the fishermen tell about her is enough to portray a vivid personality.  Her daughter, however, just seems bland.  Next to the colourful residents of the community, she is especially colourless. 

The plot is also atypical in that there are few red herrings and surprise twists and turns.  Though I didn’t know the full story, I guessed the identity of the guilty party almost immediately.  Since Moralès is a newcomer, people’s reluctance to share information is perhaps understandable, but would they really obstruct a possible murder investigation?  And one person keeps quiet about the identity of a murderer even though he has more than one reason to speak up? 

There are italicized sections which seem to be Marie’s thoughts inserted throughout the narrative.  But these seem random and largely unnecessary.  They are also confusing because there are other instances where her thoughts are given without italics:  “I lean overboard.  In the broken mirror of the water’s surface, I am splinters of stained glass, a tarnished mosaic, a dysfunctional memory out of sync, a jumbled assortment of images pieced together by a watery goldsmith.” 

The author uses very lyrical language when describing the sea:  “Today, the swell rolls like a watery carpet, lapping against the hull of the sailboat, flickering in the slivers cast by the rising sun.  The wind fills the sails as the horizon glows red, dawn washing the sea with colour and transforming this story into a scarlet fresco.  The sky turns blue, with just enough of a hint of pink to pave the way for the sun.”   It is obvious that Bouchard knows the sea intimately and loves it. 

There are humourous touches, but some become annoying.  Renaud’s attacks on vegetables and his constant putting on and taking off of his cook’s helper apron just become tedious.  The encounter between Renaud and Father Leblanc and Moralès at Guylaine’s is a bit too slapsticky. 

As I mentioned, this is the first of the series; the second one is The Coral Bride and a third, Whisper of the Seals, will be released in August.  I can’t say I was awed by this book, but I’ll probably read another just to give the author a fair chance.