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Note: While this review will not contain spoilers for How the Light Gets In, it may inadvertently reveal plot surprises from earlier Armand Gamache mysteries.  As always, I recommend reading books in a series in order.

"Three Pines, he knew, was not immune to dreadful loss.  To sorrow and pain.  What Three Pines had wasn't immunity but a rare ability to heal" (117).

Things are not going well for Armand Gamache, Chief Inspector of the Sûreté du Québec.  Jean-Guy Beauvoir, Gamache's faithful protegé, has left his mentor's side in a fit of anger, choosing a life of addiction and alliance to a corrupt leader over service at the side of the man he's always thought of as a second father.  Most of the Inspector's loyal detecting team is also gone, leaving him with untested, disrespectful rookies.  With the Sûreté's higher ups calling for Gamache's dismissal, the decorated policeman's sterling reputation may be tarnished beyond repair.  Exposing corruption within the Sûreté is the only way to save his job, but does he have the guts to take on his most powerful enemies?  Is it worth losing everything—and everyone—that matters to him?

In the midst of this personal turmoil, Gamache receives a call from Myrna Landers, owner of the used bookstore in Three Pines.  She's worried about a friend who failed to return to the tiny village as expected.  Myrna's reluctance to expose the woman's identity puzzles Gamache until he learns that 77-year-old Constance Pineault was once a very famous woman, a household name not just in Canada, but all over the world.  Who killed the reluctant celebrity?  And why?  It's up to Gamache to find out.  

Juggling the case in Three Pines as well as a major internal crisis decades in the making, Gamache may be in over his head.  Especially without his loyal subjects by his side.  Will the Chief Inspector emerge triumphant?  Or will his brilliant career come to a tragic, shameful end?

It's no secret how much I love Louise Penny's immersive mystery series set mostly in the unforgettable hamlet of Three Pines.  I adore it for many reasons, but mostly because of the kind, intelligent man at its center.  Armand Gamache is a character like no other, one who inspires admiration from both his fictional colleagues and leagues of real people who enjoy reading about his exploits.  It's tough for a raging fangirl like me to see the great man suffer, so How the Light Gets In—the ninth installment in the series—was a bit of a painful read for me.  And, yet, I think it's my favorite Gamache novel so far.  It's tense, exciting, fascinating, funny, and tender.  I loved it, from its first sentence to its last (especially the last).  I can't wait to see what's in store for this beloved cast in the next book, The Long Way Home.  That title sounds kind of ominous, actually ... should I be worried?

(Readalikes: Other books in the Armand Gamache series, including Still Life; A Fatal Grace; The Cruelest Month; A Rule Against Murder; The Brutal Telling; Bury Your Dead; The Hangman [novella]; A Trick of the Light; The Beautiful Mystery; The Long Way Home; The Nature of the Beast; A Great Reckoning; and Glass Houses)

Grade:

 

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

  

for language, violence, and blood/gore

To the FTC, with love:  I bought a copy of How The Light Gets In from Changing Hands Bookstore with a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger.  Ha ha.

 

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(Note: While this review will not contain spoilers for The Dead of the Night, it may inadvertently reveal plot surprises from its predecessor, Tomorrow, When the War Began.  As always, I recommend reading books in a series in order.) 

 

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

 

for language (no F-bombs), violence, blood/gore, and sexual content

To the FTC, with love:  I bought a copy of The Dead of the Night from Amazon with a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger.  Ha ha. 

 

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

(Note: While this review will not contain spoilers for The Beautiful Mystery, it may inadvertently reveal plot surprises from earlier Armand Gamache novels. As always, I recommend reading books in a series in order.)

Concealed deep in the Québec wilderness, in a remote spot accessible only by boat, the monastery of Saint-Gilbert-Entre-les-Loups is not a place that welcomes visitors.  Even the most determined tourists are turned away from the 300-year-old community of Gilbertine monks.  Isolation guarantees the holy men the quiet peace they need to worship God and tend to their simple chores.  Although the Gilbertines have recently received worldwide attention due to a recording of their ancient and achingly beautiful Gregorian chants, they desire only to be left alone.  

When Frére Mathieu, the order's choirmaster, is brutally murdered in the abbot's private garden, the monks are forced to ask for outside help.  Armand Gamache, Chief Inspector of the Sûrete de Québec, is soon on the job along with his right-hand man, Jean-Guy Beauvoir.  As the duo investigates the crime, they find an order torn between privacy and publicity, its loyalties divided between two dynamic leaders.  Discontent wafts through the monastery's silent corridors.  Tension simmers below the surface—in one of the gentle brothers, it has bubbled over.  But which one?  Who was angry enough to bash Frére Mathieu's head in?  It's up to Gamache and Beauvoir to find out.  

At the same time Gamache and Beauvoir are examining the cracks in the Gilbertines' peaceful exterior, they're experiencing troubling fissures a lot closer to home.  When time-honored loyalties are put to the ultimate test on both fronts, no one will escape unscathed—not the Gilbertines, nor the Sûrete de Québec and its infamous Chief Inspector.

As much as I love Three Pines—the quaint village where most of Louise Penny's books are set—I'm always intrigued when the author chooses a different location for one of her mysteries.  The monastery of Saint-Gilbert-Entre-les-Loups (which is fictional, unlike the Gilbertines who existed but went extinct) is a fascinating locale, especially because it creates a "locked room" mystery that is all the more complex despite fewer players on scene.  Like the previous seven books in the Armand Gamache series, The Beautiful Mystery offers a compelling, multi-layered story peopled with interesting characters.  Kind, intelligent Gamache is always my favorite.  I enjoyed the deeper look at his psyche, especially as it intertwines with that of his protegé, Beauvoir.  I'm not going to lie, though, the ending of The Beautiful Mystery broke my heart more than a little.  Gamache's pain went straight to my heart.  I had to inhale the next book in the series immediately, just to reassure myself that the Chief Inspector would be okay.  At least eventually.  My investment in these characters is a testament to Penny's skill at creating a vibrant, believable world filled with people I wish I knew.  I love this series, which gets better with every installment.

(Readalikes:  Other books in the Armand Gamache series, including Still Life; A Fatal Grace; The Cruelest Month; A Rule Against Murder; The Brutal Telling; Bury Your Dead; The Hangman [novella]; A Trick of the Light; How the Light Gets In; The Long Way Home; The Nature of the Beast; A Great Reckoning; and Glass Houses)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

 

To the FTC, with love:  Another library fine find

 

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The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is well known for sending missionaries to all corners of the globe to teach people the Gospel.  The majority of these missionaries have—historically—been young men.  However, many "senior" couples also serve as do thousands of young women.  When did the Church start extending official mission calls to women?  Although many women served as unofficial missionaries (most as companions to their husbands) before then, the first female called to be a full-time proselyting missionary was set apart all the way back in 1898.  I had never heard of Amanda "Inez" Knight, who earned a place in LDS history by accepting this historical call. 

When Breanna Olaveson heard about Knight and other early sister missionaries, she knew she wanted to write about these courageous and faithful women.  Her new book, Sweet Is the Work: Lessons From the First Sister Missionaries, tells the stories of twelve women who left their homes to serve the Lord in the mission field.  They endured sickness, mob violence, anxiety, the deaths of children, and many other afflictions in order to bring the Gospel to far-flung nations.  Their tales are fascinating as well as inspiring.  Sweet Is the Work is a slim volume, so Olaveson doesn't go into a lot of depth on any of the women, which is unfortunate.  While I always appreciate a nice, quick read, I did want a little more substance out of this book.  Still, it provides an interesting peek into a piece of Church history that I knew little about.  Anyone with an interest in LDS missionary work will find it a worthwhile read.  I know I did.