If you’ve read Georges Simenon’s classic of existential noir Dirty Snow you will probably believe there was mutual influence between Simenon. Georges Simenon’s Dirty Snow, a noir chronicle of a mean, vicious soul, is anything but the feel-good read of the summer. But novelist Jim. Georges Simenon is reasonably well-known as the Belgian author of the Maigret detective stories, but deserves to be a good deal more famous.
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A colleague of mine passed on a book that he liked very much. Dirty Snow by the prolific Belgian writer, George Simenon. The Maigret novels—I believe there are over fifty of them—seemed superior to most in that genre, filled with a certain ennui and jaded acceptance that went beyond the cynical aloofness of his American counterparts or the aloof cynicism sikenon his more modern offspring.
And to be honest, they were good reads. Although I had read only the Maigret novels, I knew that Simenon wrote other sorts of novels. And the French are closer to the truth, here.
‘Dirty Snow’ by Georges Simenon – Not Only the Snow was Dirty | Tony’s Book World
Dirty Snow is the story of Frank Friedmaier making his way through his occupied city. We never know who the occupiers are and where sikenon city sirty. When he is imprisoned, his captors, his location, and his crime are never identified. All of this, gives the novel a certain Kafkaesque feeling. And although time moves forward throughout the seasons, there seems always to be piles of soiled, stained, and dirtied snow. And yet it was Crime and Punishment that I thought of immediately.
There is no reason for, no gain from this murder—it is, as he says, like losing his virginity: He had been in the right place. Yet, there the similarity ends. For Raskolnikov punishes himself, mentally, emotionally, dkrty and psychologically for the crime he committed.
And soon he kills again…an old woman in his childhood village who recognized him in the course of a burglary. But the murders are not his greatest crime. But there is a reason, and Simenon attempts to suggest it subtly.
He never knew his father, only the brutality of both life and the State. Two men are offered as father surrogates in the novel: But many men have similar upbringings and few turn out as nihilistic, amoral, and unfeeling as Frank.
To his interrogator he says at the end: I am a piece of shit. Yet the flip side of that is that there is nothing the State offers either. They have not arrested him for the murders or the burglary.
They have brought him in, they torture him merely for information. But Frank is no Winston Smith either; there is no romantic dream of something better, no fervid belief in the ultimate progress of what is right. There is only Frank, solipsistic and brutal Frank. His hero is repellent. By the way, the Maigret series includes stories. You are right about the forgiveness. And even in Dirty Snow there is a sense of redemption, albeit minor.
Thank you for reading and for following. Which are the greater crimes, crimes of nations, who invade, occupy, and torture? Or crimes of individuals, who lie, steal, and murder? In a world of war, what personal crimes are impermissible?
What is the life of one person in the midst wnow mass carnage? A lone prosecutor, working for German military intelligence, thought that decency demanded that the murderer be identified and brought to justice, regardless of military rank.
His crimes are committed for no national, political, or personal cause. In a large way, he and his mother are as culpable as the Occupiers, for they procure native girls to be used in their brothel by the Occupying officers. Thus they live simeon better than their neighbors. Frank has no moral center, or at least a very damaged one. You are dirfy using your WordPress. You are commenting using your Twitter account.
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Dirty Snow by Georges Simenon
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