This 150+ page book was a fun, thrilling page turner. I understood where the story is going but the writing and its way of making situations happen kept me hooked. It was an absolute delight reading this book over one quarantine weekend.
The back cover has a praise saying, "Worthy of Agatha Christie at her devious best". I concur. :)

Elegant, witty, clever, and suspenseful. Noir without so much grit.

French master Frédéric Dard wrote nearly 300 novels combining existentialism and crime noir, all with a particular flair for the beauty and poetry of language. Why, oh why, are not more of his novels available in English? After all, Georges Simenon, Dard's longtime friend and kindred literary spirit, had hundreds of his novels translated. There is, however, a grand first step: Pushkin Vertigo recently included six Dard novels in their crime series: Bird in a Cage, The Wicked Go to Hell, Crush, The Executioner Weeps, The Gravediggers' Bread along with the novel under review. Count me in as a new enthusiastic Dard fan. I look forward to posting a review for each.

The King of Fools is a gripping page-turner, a short novel (153 pages) where a love story is added to the existential/crime noir mix. Delicious!

Originally published in 1952, Frédéric Dard begins his first-person thriller thusly: Jean-Marie Valaise, a salesman of adding machines, relates an unusual happening: returning to his MG after lunch at a restaurant in the resort shore town of Cote d'Azur where he's on vacation, he discovers a strikingly attractive blonde in a wet bathing suit sitting in the passenger seat. Ah, an understandable mistake she informs him, since, after all, her own car parked right in front of his is also an MG. She apologizes and gets out – but neglects to take her beach bag. This is the first of several encounters Jean-Marie has with Englishwoman Marjorie Faulks in Cote d'Azur. Little does our handsome, somewhat naive adding machine salesman know he's dealing with a femme fatale.

A number of Frédéric Dard novels have been turned into films - and for a good reason: the author's writing is highly cinematic. Accordingly, here's my rendition of a King of Fools trailer:

Know Thyself - “I am not a gambler, but I enjoy the atmosphere in the gaming halls. I find their tense, solemn mood exhilarating.” So muses Jean-Marie Valaise. Ah, dear sir, how deeply do you know yourself, really? You observe “If Hell is staffed with attendants, they are surely recruited from the deceased croupiers of the world,” since those croupiers have their unruffled insouciance, but might you be oblivious to the hellish trap set by the ravishing woman smiling at you from across the table who puts her chips down on black after you stake your claim on red? And when you recognize the elegant beauty is none other than the Englishwoman who left her beach bag in your MG, is it any surprise you are spellbound as if a deer caught in the headlights? When we read carefully, in similar spirit to existential writers like Georges Simenon and Albert Camus, we can detect Frédéric Dard probes into the deep recesses of the his characters' psyche.

Surprise - When the hotel proprietor asks if he saw a lady waiting for him on the terrace, our handsome Romeo wannabe rushes out only to find not Marjorie but his on-again, off-again girlfriend Denise. Of course, Denise immediately detects her man has a new flame. Initially hesitant, Jean-Marie tells Denise all about Marjorie Faulks, including the fact she's married to an odious cur and Marjorie requesting he join her in Scotland. Denise asks in a somewhat mocking tone, “Do you need to be an Ivanhoe, chéri? Go on, admit it! Don't all men? That's why little girls like her are always half right, to start with. What will you do, go to Scotland?” Not long thereafter Jean-Marie does indeed announce he's off to Scotland, to which Denise replies, “Poor Ivanhoe. You have no idea what fools heroes can be.” We eventually discover the depth of Denise's wisdom and willingness to help a man she knows just can't avoid playing the dupe.

Edinburgh – In the teeth of many walkouts and a pending nationwide transportation strike, a much haggard Jean-Marie eventually arrives in the Scottish capital. Following Marjorie Faulks's instructions, he checks into the Learmonth Hotel but he's in for a shock: Marjorie is nowhere to be found. Where is she? The plot quickly thickens, so murky it's as if Jean-Marie has landed himself in the middle of a Kafka novel. At one point he reflects: “A nightmarish day! Lost and bewildered, I wandered past the shop windows on Prince Street, gazing indifferently at their meagre displays. Everything looked ugly and grim: the items on show, the passersby, the buildings, the weather. The ran fell in sudden, sporadic bursts, but there was no brightening of the sky in between.” Frédéric Dard portrays the many faces and facets of Edinburgh, enough telling detail we as readers feel we're right there walking the pavement with Jean-Marie.

Chilling Climax – When Jean-Marie does spot Marjorie, she's strolling along a city street with her husband, Nevil Faulks, and surreptitiously drops a note telling him to meet her on a lawn in a park next to an open-air theater at 5:00. Jean-Marie does just that and Marjorie takes him by the hand and leads him to a remote section of a garden. They sit down, gaze into each other's eyes and embrace. Then the unexpected: Jean-Marie looks up and can see the white, ice-cold face of Nevil Faulks. “His nose resembled the sharp beak of a bird of prey, and his dark eyes, sunk deep beneath prominent brows, had the look of some malevolent ape. A thoroughly poisonous and dangerous creature.” And (gulp!) Nevil Faulks is holding a gun.

What happens next? You'll have to read this Frédéric Dard noir jewel for yourself.


French crime novelist Frédéric Dard, 1921-2000

A short review for a short work? Why not.

Frédéric Dard was a prodigious creator, a Frenchman who was a prolific creator of crime novels, often taking elements of his own life to fuel his works. (The kidnapping of his daughter ended up in a book, and he said his biggest regret about dying was that he wouldn't be able to write about it.) He wrote under a number of pseudonyms (Cornel Milk, anyone?) though this is the first time I've encountered his work.

The King of Fools is not part of Dard's San-Antonio series - it's standalone. And though it's a murder mystery, it opens with a would-be romance. Despite its main character being French, and the action beginning in France, the meat of the story takes place in Edinburgh's mists. Its lead character, Jean-Marie Valaise has chased Marjorie Faulks to the city after a little romantic encouragement.

It's here things become sticky. You know the drill: there's a husband, and eventually there's a murder. But who will be left to carry the can?

Is it predictable? Yeah, sure. I had figured out what was going on before it was confirmed in the text. But I think that's part of the appeal of this kind of mystery - the reader pits themselves against the characters and the authors and is either pleasantly surprised, or is able to pat themselves on the back for their sleuthing prowess.

I found this work to contain elements of strangeness that echoed films such as Vertigo or even Don't Look Now. There's a feeling of otherworldliness to the setting, though that could perhaps be simple Gallic disdain for the wet-weather environs. Regardless, it pulled me through the work, livening up something that could be considered a little mystery-by-the-numbers.

I came across the book during a brief wander through Amazon's Kindle section. The King of Fools is a release in the Pushkin Vertigo series, that provides short crime reads (including the book which inspired Vertigo) for a couple of bucks. It's proved a good investment in this case, and has encouraged me to seek out some of the other entries in the catalogue.