1991 by Franck Thilliez (review)

Rather than being another detective thriller situated during our present time, the latest installment in the Franck Sharko/Lucie Henebelle series takes the reader decades into the past. Inspector Sharko, who was initially introduced in the 2003 debut Train d'enfer pour Ange rouge, and has been aging in real time since, appears in this literary time capsule as a thirty-year-old lieutenant freshly transferred to the Paris Brigade criminelle. In his world, the policewoman at 36, quai des Orfèvres is a groundbreaking novelty. Faxes and pay-phones are basic modes of communication. DNA profiling is just starting to gain ground and computerized criminal databases are virtually nonexistent. Binders and carbon paper are the standard for record-keeping. As the newest recruit, Sharko is relegated to the tedious task of reviewing the archives of a cold case of the brutal killing of several women in the south of Paris. Slogging through massive piles of paperwork, the eager lieutenant nevertheless takes to the trying task with assiduity. But Franck's real trial by fire comes when his team must track down an elusive murderer intent on perturbing the Parisians' present. Le Méticuleux, as the criminal is nicknamed, seems able to do the inexplicable. By somehow compelling an innocent citizen to uncover a shocking photograph through an anonymous letter and a copy of Baudelaire's Les fleurs du mal, the felon leads the police to a reclusive crime scene peppered with hidden clues in a room sealed from the inside. As the case evolves, a frustrated and exhausted Franck finds it increasingly difficult to compartmentalize his emotions. Ghosts from his past resurge, shedding light on the origins of Sharko's dogged determination to become a criminal investigator. Despite the graphic violence of some scenes, Thilliez's old-school procedural is thoroughly entertaining. The fast-paced, well-written plot immerses the reader in a foreboding atmosphere where mentalism, voodoo rituals, and Houdini's escapist illusions overlap, highlighting a time when intuition and emotion guided investigations more than in today's increasingly regimented and computerized police environment. The nostalgia elicited through the cultural and historical references to the early 1990s is an appealing escape from the contemporary reader's heavily computerized environment. As intimated by the novel's palindromic title, number games, magic tricks, and word play are the order of the day, although not as well-integrated and developed as in some of Thilliez's prior novels. Particularly appealing is the insertion of a preliminary mental exercise which gains relevance later as the investigation unfolds, while also cleverly demonstrating how society influences individual thought. The mystery's solution is satisfying as well, although somewhat predictable for those familiar with Thilliez's thrillers. As an entry-point into the author's universe, 1991 is an excellent choice. For avid fans, this novel finally answers some key questions about one of the best-known popular heroes of the French thriller.