The 13 Culprits by Georges Simenon

Pre-Maigret short stories

The introduction to The 13 Culprits opens with a fun quote from author Georges Simenon: “I haven’t written that much. I’m already 29 and I’ve only published 277 books . . .” A few years before that statement, in 1929, Simenon was hired to write a series of short mystery stories for the French magazine Détective. Those stories were called The 13 Mysteries, The 13 Enigmas, and The 13 Culprits. These 39 Détective stories are formatted in such a way that the reader is presented with the facts of the case so that he or she can try solving the mystery themselves before the detective weighs in at the end with his conclusions. These stories may have eventually been published in book form in French, but I believe the Culprits are the only ones to have made it into English translation thus far, and not until 2002. 

In The 13 Culprits stories, the suspect in the case has already been tracked down and in some cases apprehended before the story starts. The details of the crime are revealed to us through the interrogation of the suspect. These questionings are conducted by an examining magistrate named Froget. He bears more than a passing resemblance to Simenon’s famous detective Inspector Maigret, who would make his debut in 1931. Froget is a large laconic man of pale skin and surly temperament. He only says as much as he absolutely needs to, and he intimidates his quarry with uncomfortable silences. Froget definitely seems more tightly wound than Maigret. You wouldn’t want to be questioned by either one of these formidable law enforcement professionals, but at least Maigret seems like someone with whom one might enjoy drinking a beer.

I’ve read about 30 of Simeon’s novels, but this is my first experience with his short stories. I can’t say that I was thrilled with this collection. The solve-it-yourself format of the stories amounts to a lot of confusing details being dumped on you before Froget declares his verdict. You already know that the culprits are guilty, for the simple reason that Froget is questioning them. With the whodunit already figured out, it is still left for Froget to ascertain the how and the why. The process of solving these cases is very similar to that employed by American teenaged sleuth Encyclopedia Brown. The suspect slips up with some contradictory or erroneous detail in their testimony, by which Froget nails them. In most cases, Froget really doesn’t have enough evidence for a conviction, but that’s not even considered since the whole point of the story is merely to solve the puzzle.

Unlike Encyclopedia Brown, however, the crimes here are more hard-boiled than some kid stealing a bike. Simenon delivers the gritty film-noir look at the underbelly of Paris that one expects from him. He also doesn’t shy away from sexual content. One story even has a transvestite, which was pretty racy for 1929. Just as in his Maigret novels, Simenon comes up with some really interesting and compelling back stories for these culprits, but they feel very rushed in this short format. One thing that’s interesting about these mysteries is that almost none of these culprits are French. Instead, they come from all over Europe, plus one African from the Congo. 

If you’re a fan of Simenon, these stories may be worth a look, but don’t expect anything that measures up to a Maigret novel. The 13 Culprits stories feel like a series of quick sketches leading up to the creation of Maigret. Since Simenon wrote about 500 books, however, he’s got plenty of other mysteries that are more worth your time than this.

Stories in this collection

Ziliouk

Monsieur Rodrigues

Madame Smitt

The “Flemings”

Nouchi

Arnold Schruttinger

Waldemar Strvzeski

Philippe

Nicolas

The Timmermans

The Pacha

Otto Müller

Bus

The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark by Carl Sagan

Championing skepticism above superstition

The Demon-Haunted World, published in 1996, is a collection of essays by astrophysicist turned popular science communicator Carl Sagan (1934–1996). Many of these essays were originally published as articles in various magazines and then adapted for this book. In particular, Sagan mentions Parade magazine, a nationwide Sunday newspaper supplement, as one recurring venue for his writings. Four of the book’s 25 chapters were cowritten by Sagan’s wife and frequent collaborator Ann Druyan.

In this book, Sagan tackles many different categories of the paranormal or pseudoscience, including angels and demons, reincarnation, ghosts, spiritualism, communication with the dead, hypnotism, UFOs, witchcraft, and more. Sagan begins by assessing the state of each belief in today’s society, and then talks about ways of addressing such topics. By explaining the scientific method and the logic techniques of “baloney detection,” Sagan instructs readers in how to practice intelligent skepticism. Probably because of his astronomical interests, the most thoroughly covered topic in this volume is that of UFOs and alien abductions. Sagan looks for scientific reasons behind why so many people claim to have been abducted and sexually abused by extraterrestrials, which leads him into the psychology of hallucinations and false memories. In addition to such supernatural myth-busing, Sagan also laments the sorry state of science education in America and offers suggestions on how we can improve scientific literacy. He is also critical of the scarcity of sound science presented in the news media, political rhetoric, and popular entertainment.

There are few figures of my lifetime that I admire more than Sagan. As far as I can recall, I agree with everything he has to say about matters pertaining to science and religion. He was a veritable knight in elbow-patched blazer the way he fearlessly championed rationalism and science to an overly religious and superstitious American public. The fact that I agree with his views so unilaterally, however, makes the reading of his writings less than exciting for me. I find this common when reading other writers of an atheist or freethinking bent. They’re basically just telling me things I’ve already figured out for myself. Sagan doesn’t have to convince me, because I was already convinced before I picked up the book. 

For similarly minded readers, the best this book has to offer is its revelations on just how pervasively pseudoscience and superstition have permeated our society. Since the book was published in 1996, I would assume the statistics Sagan cites regarding the number of Americans who believe in biblical literalism, ghosts, psychics, alien abductions, and so on are outdated, but I’m afraid those statistics have probably only gotten worse since then. The internet (which existed in 1996 but didn’t dominate our lives to the extent it does now) has only amplified conspiracy theories and tall tales of the paranormal, and it seems like American politicians become more religious and less scientific with each election. If you are a rationalist, and you weren’t already ashamed of American anti-intellectualism, you’ll likely be mortified after reading The Demon-Haunted World.

Fortunately, this book is so well-written that Sagan may very well have changed many minds that were on the fence about astrology, witchcraft, UFO abductions, and the like. His tone throughout the book is that of a hopeful educator. He wants to change people’s minds, but he doesn’t stoop to insulting people’s beliefs. He does, however, go after some prominent paranormal hucksters. Though I felt like much of the book’s content was familiar and just plain common sense, I’m glad somebody wrote this book. The world (or at least the United States) really needs it, and no one could have written it better than Sagan.

The Trial by Franz Kafka

Too absurd to alarm

Austrian-Czech author Franz Kafka is widely regarded as one of the most important figures in modern European literature. In the early 20th century, he pushed the envelope of what literature could be by applying dark, dystopian, surrealistic, and deliberately absurd imagery to existential themes of modern life. Kafka wrote three novels—The Trial, The Castle, and Amerika—all of which were unfinished at the time of his death but nevertheless were left complete enough to be hailed as masterpieces by literary critics of the last century. The Trial was first published, posthumously, in 1925, but was written about a decade earlier. I had previously read Kafka’s novella The Metamorphosis and found it worthy of high regard. The Trial, on the other hand, left me quite disappointed and even annoyed.

The Trial concerns the legal troubles of Josef K., a chief clerk at a bank. On his 30th birthday, two law enforcement officers show up at his apartment to arrest him. The nature of his offense is never disclosed, neither to K. nor to the reader. The particular agency these officers work for is unknown, and it doesn’t seem that any formal charges are ever made. K. is not taken into custody, but released on his own recognizance, able to live and work much the same as before. It is made clear to him, however, that he is regarded as a criminal and will have to undergo a long, complicated, and labor intensive trial process that will likely dominate his life for years to come and may result in a serious sentence. In the process of preparing for his trial, the workings of which he knows almost nothing, K. consults a number of people for assistance, including lawyers, a businessman, and a painter. 

Much like George Orwell’s 1984 and other 20th-century dystopian novels, The Trial reflects the unfortunate reality of Justice in many authoritarian and non-democratic nations. The fact is, there were, and probably still are, many countries where you could be dragged out of your bed in the middle of the night, for no specified crime, imprisoned, tortured, and/or executed. There are moments in The Trial where Kafka brings that horror vividly to life.

The effect is ruined, however, by the juxtaposition of such political paranoia with humorous and absurdist elements. The legal proceedings described are unrealistically byzantine and bizarre, and the details are often revealed through somewhat silly conversations with characters that I assume were meant to be satirical characters. Every woman K. meets along the way throws herself at him, and he engages in bumbling, fumbling romances with a few of them. The overall effect is something like that of a German expressionist print. On the one hand, the rude, angular depiction of human figures engenders disturbing feelings of anxiety, revulsion, and paranoia. On the other hand, there is also something humorous about the rather cartoony and distorted style of expression. Sometimes that humor is intentional (as in George Grosz) and sometimes not (as in Egon Schiele). In The Trial, it is hard to tell what is intentionally humorous and what is not. For today’s reader, a century after the book’s initial publication, the difficulty is compounded by an ignorance as to what life was really like in Bohemia or Czechoslovakia a hundred years ago. For example, court proceedings in The Trial are held in the attic of a tenement building. Was that a real thing? Or is that just a joke?

Having only read a couple of Kafka’s works, I wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s overrated. I do feel fairly confident, however, in saying that The Trial is overrated. If literary critics want to hail one innovative early-2oth-century Czech author as a godfather of modernism, my pick would be Karel Capek rather than Kafka.

The Bondman by Hall Caine

Brother vs. brother in the icy North Atlantic

There is a good chance you’ve never heard of Hall Caine, but at one time he was one of the most popular authors on Planet Earth. His book The Eternal City is the first novel to have sold over one million copies worldwide. Caine’s novel The Bondman, published in 1890, may not have achieved such record sales, but it was still a blockbuster bestseller for its day and firmly established the author’s international success. The story of The Bondman takes place in Iceland and on the Isle of Man, which is located between Great Britain and Ireland. Although born in England, Caine was of Manx (Isle of Man) heritage and later settled there to become that island’s biggest celebrity and favorite son. He also wrote The Manxman, which Alfred Hitchcock made into a silent film. Prior to writing The Bondman, Caine made a research voyage to Iceland to see that country firsthand. 

Rachel Jorgenson, the daughter of the governor of Iceland, is betrothed to marry a Danish count of her father’s choosing, but instead she elopes with a burly Icelandic fisherman named Stephen Orry. Unfortunately, Orry turns out to be an abusive drunkard, and he abandons Rachel and their newborn son Jason, who are left to live in poverty. When Jason grows up, he vows that he will track down his father and kill him, or, if the old man is already dead, he will wreak his vengeance on any of Orry’s offspring. Meanwhile, Orry has run off to the Isle of Man, where he fathers another son, Michael, with a woman of ill repute. Orry mellows in his old age and has a change of heart. He regrets what he did to Rachel and realizes what a terrible father he has been, so he leaves Michael with the governor of the Isle of Man, who raises the boy lovingly in relative wealth. When Michael grows into a man and learns of his father’s history, he vows to find Rachel and his long-lost brother and help them in any way he can. Thus, we have two brothers from two different islands, who have never met, hunting each other down for opposing reasons, each unbeknownst of the other’s motives.

A lot happens in The Bondman. In every chapter, someone is being born, married, killed, imprisoned, elected governor, or relocated to some foreign land. One could say that there’s never a dull moment in The Bondman, but he or she would be lying. Despite the multinational scope and all the momentous events, each chapter is bogged down in a lot of tedious verbiage. The characters engage in much discussion of what’s happened or what’s going to happen. In most cases, the outcomes of these conversations are a foregone conclusion, but one still has to sit through them anyway. Realism is not a major concern in this romance, as the character’s lives are entwined in an intricate web of coincidental encounters and mistaken identities. It somewhat calls to mind the byzantine plot of The Count of Monte Cristo, but Caine’s web is not as skillfully spun as Alexandre Dumas’s. I admired the clever construction of the plot, with all its cyclical occurrences and karmic retribution, but I can’t say that I greatly enjoyed the reading of it.

The Bondman is an adventure romance in the vein of Sir Walter Scott (Rob Roy) or Robert Louis Stevenson (The Master of Ballantrae). The positive aspects of Caine’s writing don’t quite measure up to those two Scottish greats, yet he does share some of their faults. Like Scott and Stevenson, the writing is often clumsily antiquated, the plot elements so heroic they’re predictable, and the very Britishness, Scottishness, or Manxness of the cultural and historical references can be a chore for the ignorant American reader to wade through. (Just to prove I’m not anti-British, James Fenimore Cooper’s novels often have the same problems.) After reading The Bondman, I might say there’s a good reason Caine has been forgotten while the other aforementioned authors are still widely read. If you are really into classic books by Scott, Stevenson, or Cooper, however, The Bondman might be right up your alley.

X-Men Epic Collection, Volume 5: Second Genesis by Chris Claremont, et al.

Successfully reinventing the wheel

Given the proliferation in X-Men characters, comics, and films since the 1990s, it is hard to believe that there was a time when The Uncanny X-Men was one of the least successful comic books in the Marvel pantheon. In fact, the title was essentially cancelled in 1970 after issue #66, following which old stories were rerun for the next few years. The X-Men comics came back to life in 1975 with the publication of Giant-Size X-Men #1, a landmark issue in which Marvel took the drastic step of replacing the founding X-Men with an almost all-new team of heroes. The result was a personnel-change comeback perhaps second only to AC/DC’s Back in Black. Marvel’s X-Men Epic Collection Volume 5 reprints this landmark Giant-Size issue, as well as the newly revived Uncanny X-Men issues 94 to 109. The volume also includes an Iron Fist crossover and two Marvel Team-Up crossovers consisting of a couple issues each.

Nowadays there are dozens of X-Men in various teams, but prior to 1975, the X-Men were defined as five characters: Cyclops, Iceman, Angel, Beast, and Marvel Girl, plus a couple hangers-on like Havok and Polaris. For their new team, writer Len Wein and Dave Cockrum made the bold choice of introducing three brand new characters—Storm, Colossus, and Nightcrawler—that would fortuitously turn out to be very popular. They also repurposed some previously introduced mutants, the somewhat forgettable Banshee and the overachiever Wolverine, who would go on to become arguably Marvel’s most popular character since Spider-Man. Cyclops was the only official holdover from the original X-Men, though Jean Grey/Marvel Girl was often on hand, beefed up with new and improved powers. 

Another formidable addition to the X-Men was to its creative team. Writer Chris Claremont joined Wein for issue #94 and would soon take over to become the definitive X-writer for decades to come. I have always thought Claremont was a bit overrated, but after reading this volume of early second-generation X-Men, I have to admit that his stories here are very good. As far as the art is concerned, there is certainly nothing to complain about. The very talented Cockrum pencils most of the issues included here, only to be followed by the even better John Byrne. Sal Buscema handles one of the Team-Up crossovers. If “Our Pal” Sal is the worst artist in your comic book, you’ve got one damn good-lookin’ comic book. As is always the case with the Epic Collection paperbacks, these classic comics are reprinted in vibrant full color.

As for villains, Magneto, the Sentinels, Black Tom, Juggernaut, Eric the Red, and the Living Monolith all make appearances. Most impressive, however, is the creation by Claremont and Cockrum of the empress Lilandra of the Shi’ar and her defenders the Starjammers. This new race of celestial beings would prove to be enduring and popular guest stars in many a Marvel comic to come.

The crossovers are included for continuity, but they’re really not very important in the grand scheme of X-things. I would rather have gotten several more issues of The Uncanny. They’re not bad comics, however, so I’m merely quibbling over technicalities. When all is said and done, X-Men Volume 5 is a very good entry in Marvel’s series of Epic Collection comics.

The Best of 2024

Top ten reads of the year
In 2024, Old Books by Dead Guys matched 2023’s output of book reviews with an even 100 posts for the year. Listed below are my ten favorite books read this year, arranged chronologically by date of publication. (None of them were actually published in 2024; this is Old Books by Dead Guys, after all.) It just so happens that this year’s list is half fiction, half nonfiction. Surprisingly, the oldest book on this year’s list is 1925, but there are a few history books that reach back further to tell of dead guys in earlier times. I read a lot of Nobel Prize winners this year (15 books), but none of them made the list. Click on the titles below to read the full reviews.

 

The Cotton-Pickers by B. Traven (1925)
This novel, which takes place shortly after the Mexican Revolution, follows an American drifter wandering through Mexico. When he and a handful of companions sign on as cotton pickers on a Mexican farm, their adventures reveal the ugly truth of imperialism, classism, and racism south of the border. A gallows-humor comedy told with down-to-earth matter-of-fact bluntness, Traven’s writing is remarkably forthright and uninhibited, with the unpretentious feel of vintage pulp fiction.

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre by B. Traven (1927)

The basis for the 1949 Humphrey Bogart movie of the same name, this novel tells the story of three American drifters in Mexico who decide to stop chasing dead-end jobs and start prospecting for a mother lode of gold. This realistic and unromanticized story of friendship and greed is an adventure novel that rises to the level of great literature. Traven’s original novel expresses anti-capitalist, anti-church, and anti-imperialist sentiments not found in the film.

Maigret and the Reluctant Witnesses by Georges Simenon (1959)
Not the first time a Maigret novel has appeared in one of these best-of lists, and it probably won’t be the last. In this installment, Inspector Maigret is called in to investigate the murder of the CEO of a popular brand of cookies. Maigret uncovers secrets of the family business that reveal a motive for the killing. This is a good, perplexing murder mystery with an interesting supporting cast. It’s an exemplary entry in the consistently entertaining Maigret series.

True Grit by Charles Portis (1968)
This novel was adapted into the famous John Wayne movie, but the later Coen Brothers’ version is closer to the book. Mattie Ross, the elderly narrator, tells the story of how, as a 14-year-old girl, she accompanied the cantankerous marshal Rooster Cogburn on the hunt for the man who killed her father. This intelligent, funny western can be enjoyed even by readers who thought they’d never read a western.

Life: A Natural History of the First Four Billion Years of Life on Earth by Richard Fortey (1997)
Fortey, a senior paleontologist at London’s Natural History Museum, provides a four-billion-year biography of life on Earth, following the course of evolution from our planet’s first molecules of living matter to we humans today. Though written for a popular audience, the content is not dumbed-down, and the text is filled with fascinating details.

Sly and the Family Stone: An Oral History by Joel Selvin (1998)
The text of this band biography is an oral history assembled from interviews with about forty different persons who lived and/or worked with Sly and the band. (The reclusive Sly himself did not participate.) What starts out as an inspiring and triumphant story of a talented musician turns into a shocking and tragic tale of a deranged, violent, drug-addled control freak.

The Modern Mind: An Intellectual History of the 20th Century by Peter Watson (2000)
This is essentially a history textbook, but instead of focusing on political events, wars, or world leaders, it concentrates instead on developments in the arts, sciences, and humanities. The result is a very ambitious, panoramically erudite, and thoroughly engaging intellectual history of the twentieth century. Watson summarizes countless published books by the greatest thinkers of the century and compares and contrasts them articulately. No matter how well-read you think you are, you’re bound to find much to learn from this impressive work of staggering scope.

Sea of Glory: America’s Voyage of Discovery, The U.S. Exploring Expedition, 1838–1842 by Nathaniel Philbrick (2003)
After almost every European country had made its round-the-world voyages, the United States decided to do the same by launching the U.S. Exploring Expedition to circle the globe, explore the Pacific, and search for the as yet undiscovered Antarctica. Philbrick’s book is not so much about the Expedition’s discoveries as it is about the terrible leadership of its captain and the personnel conflicts that ensued. Nevertheless, this is a riveting narrative of nautical exploration.

The Golden Cockerel and Other Writings by Juan Rulfo (2017)
Mexico’s (and perhaps Latin America’s) most highly respected author is known for only publishing two books, but this volume reprints an additional “lost” or “forgotten” novel of the early 1960s, The Golden Cockerel. Also included is a mixed bag of short stories and essays previously uncollected in English translation. Rulfo fans will be delighted by the long lost writings in this volume. 

El Norte: The Epic and Forgotten History of Hispanic North America by Carrie Gibson (2019)
Since the first Spanish conquistadores landed in the New World, Hispanics and Hispanic culture have had a profound effect on the development of North America. Journalist Carrie Gibson corrects the Anglo-biased histories of North America with this objective and well-researched account of historical and cultural events in the U.S., Mexico, Central America, and the Caribbean.

  

Old Books by Dead Guys has been posting these year-end lists since 2013. To see the top tens from years past, click on the “Best-of lists” tag and scroll through the results. Happy reading in 2025! 

Among the Tibetans by Isabella Bird

Travel to exotic lands, meet new people . . . and criticize them

Englishwoman Isabella Bird was a pioneering female explorer of the Victorian Era. She traveled to exotic lands all over the world and published several books on her adventures. What was most unusual, for a woman of her time, was that she traveled solo, unaccompanied by a husband, brother, or similar male chaperone. She led her own expeditions and hired local servants, porters, guides, etc. to assist her. Bird became quite popular through her published writings in books and magazines, which were often illustrated with her own photography. She was the first woman to be elected as a fellow of Britain’s Royal Geographic Society.

In 1889, at around the age of 60, Bird departed on a trip to India and Tibet, then into Central Asia and on to the Middle East. She recounted the Tibetan portion of this journey in her book Among the Tibetans, published in 1894. The book opens with Bird in Kashmir as she’s leaving India to enter into Tibet. From the Kashmiri city of Srinigar, she travelled to the Tibetan city of Leh and from there explored the Nubra Valley. By today’s maps, these sites are located in the Ladakh region of Indian-administered Kashmir, not in the Tibet Autonomous Region. At the time of Bird’s travels, it is unclear to me who actually had political control over the lands she visited, but historically the inhabitants and culture of Leh and Nubra are Tibetan.

Bird deserves to be seen as a feminist heroine for her accomplishments, and I admire and envy her travels. Her writing, however, as exhibited in this book at least, leaves a lot to be desired. It suffers from many of the faults also seen in writings of her male contemporaries. This was the golden age of British imperialism, and many British authors of the era write as if the whole world was merely meant to provide comfort and amusement to British travelers. Whatever fails to do so is deemed “primitive” and “savage.” Bird goes on and on about how the people she encounters are ugly, dirty, stupid, and unreliable. (The fact that she deems the residents of this or that region more handsome than another doesn’t really make up for that.) Although not averse to roughing it in the mountains, once Bird enters a city or town she complains about the squalid accommodations as if she were writing spiteful hotel reviews on Tripadvisor. She also laments that she can’t get a decent cup of tea, even though she’s in the birthplace of tea.

The primary standard by which I judge this book is how much did I really learn about Tibet. The answer, unfortunately, is not much. Bird devotes more ink to her horses than she does to Tibetan culture. Perhaps readers of her time would have enjoyed reading all this horse talk as an integral part of the adventure they could identify with. Considering the general public of Britain likely knew almost nothing about Tibet in 1894, Bird’s book might very well have been a breath of fresh air for them. It does dispense some rudimentary insight into Tibetan life and Buddhism. There’s maybe one good chapter out of five. For today’s readers, however, who grew up on National Geographic, the Travel Channel, and Wikipedia, Among the Tibetans is unlikely to offer any surprise revelations, and the relentless tone of imperialist condescension is off-putting. While today’s travel writers usually adopt an attitude of “When in Rome, do as Romans do,” Bird’s travelog is more, “When in Rome, complain that you’re not in London.”

Bird was a fascinating person, but her writing on Tibet did not fascinate me. I would probably prefer reading a recent biography of Bird (if one exits) rather than her own travel accounts written in antiquated prose with antiquated perspectives.