Originally published in 2012, translated to English in 2014, Death in Brittany is the first novel of Commissaire Dupin. The author writes these stories pseudonymonously and is said to split his time between Germany and Brittany, but is obviously deeply familiar with Brittany.
Death in Brittany, by “Jean-Luc Bannalec”; 318 pages; published 2012, trans. Sorcha McDonagh 2014
Murder on Brittany Shores; 380 pages; published 2013, trans. Sorcha McDonagh 2016

Death in Brittany. A pretty standard title. A reasonably well-plotted murder mystery. Well-written. Consistent. Satisfying. Not entirely gripping, perhaps; but good.
This novel falls somewhere in between a basic police-procedural and a cosy. The main character is a high-ranking French police official, run out of Paris for generalized conflicts with his superiors and stuck in what is evidently considered something of a backwater – albeit a charming and desirable backwater. The plot proceeds along what should be considered standard lines. There are twists and turns, but nothing questionable or particularly shocking. The murder is discovered, the police are called in, the investigation proceeds with red herrings that in turn prove more pertinent than initially perceived. The usual fare. In this way, it accords with what is usually considered a “cosy”-style mystery. Dupin is a loner, using the other characters as resources rather than as partners. He is awkward, slightly unpleasant, dogged, and brilliant. Fairly stereotypical for this sort of thing. However, this offering is slightly long by cosy standards, and it pays slightly more attention to actual police practices and standards than do many cosies, pushing it once again just slightly out of what might considered the standard classification.

So, while generally this novel is satisfying, it is not without its flaws. I would suggest that the author falls into one of the biggest traps for new writers in choosing an extremely flashy hook for the mystery’s main plot point. I won’t spoil it for you, except to say that while the matter in question is handled deftly enough and is not wholly improbable…it is still sufficiently unlikely as to be a bit distracting.
Another minor niggle is the general use of language in the novel. It is just ever so slightly pedestrian, even as it is so very, very French. Anyone who has read Agatha Christie’s Poirot stories will immediately recognize this as a very French novel – which says perhaps more about Christie’s powers than it does about Bannalec’s. However, there is always the question of how much of this effect is due to the act of translation. There was nothing bad or wrong about how the novel was written. Nothing actually dissatisfying. Just a sense that it could have been somehow so much more.

But let us turn to where the novel succeeds. It is, more than a mystery novel, a love letter to Brittany. The descriptions of the places, the weather, the landscape, the towns, the sea…the reader absolutely feels in their bones that the writer is in love with Brittany. You want, almost desperately, to travel to these locations, to see and feel what the author is describing.

But here is the real crux: feel free to skip this novel. Bannalec’s second effort, Murder on Brittany Shores, is so much stronger, so much more accomplished and polished. More engaging presentation of the characters, even as they remain true to what was established in the first novel. And as a love letter to Brittany…. Its people, its landscapes, and most especially its food….
Again, as a mystery novel, it blurs the lines between a basic cosy and a pure police-procedural. Perhaps still siding slightly more strongly with the cosy. The investigation proceeds along standard lines of gathering facts and winnowing the important from the chafe from the deliberately misleading. As a mystery, it is more probable and more engaging than Dupin’s first outing. More believable, more satisfying.
But once again, where the novel truly succeeds…. The landscapes, the weather, and most especially the food are so lovingly described, so richly detailed, so perfectly evocative. I was ready to hop on a plane for a visit, or perhaps a permanent relocation.
Again one questions how much of this is due to the evolution of the author versus how much might be attributed to increasing skill from the translator. Either is possible. There are curious artefacts throughout both novels – and more in the second – wherein there are two turns of phrase meaning almost exactly the same thing, but providing different nuance. It appears that the translator included both versions in a proof, awaiting a choice by an editor or the author, and for whatever reason both remained in the manuscript. It provides a fascinating insight into the process and difficulty of translation – and how much power a translator can have over the reader’s interaction with the author.

Wherever the truth lies, the fact is that this novel is extremely engaging and entertaining. I absolutely recommend requesting it if your local library does not carry it, and your tastes run to lighter literary fare. Or if you just need a palate cleanser between heavier courses.