While reading Maigret at Montmartre by Georges Simenon (really, who else would have written it but it’s just common decency to always list the author), I realized that it had also been published in English as Inspector Maigret and the Strangled Stripper and Maigret at Picratt’s. All by different translators.
Over the last several months, I have been reading Maigret novels. And, from the start, I have known that the blessed things were originally in French. However, I hadn’t really thought about how there must be different translators, how there must be different little touches here and there. Because the tone has been pretty consistent throughout my literary journey.
Which isn’t to say that Simenon’s voice must be so strong that it overpowers any quirks of individual translators. Instead, I think Simenon is considered important enough to get it right.
I sometimes forget just how much of what I read started off in another language. Because sometimes it takes a bad translation to remind you that these aren’t the authors original words.
And I don’t think I’d get enough out of reading these three different translations of this 1954 Maigret book to justify it. I feel like I’ve done well to myself to read one.
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As the strangled stripper version of the title would suggest, the book deals with the seedier side of life. Simenon has a very psychological approach and does a remarkably good job not glamorizing unsavory things. Instead of exploitation, he discusses the exploited.
There were some strikingly homophobic scenes. And while you can just say ‘it was 1954’ which isn’t unfair but the extent that Simenon humanized sex workers makes him dehumanizing another group stand out.
Look, I love the work of H. P. Lovecraft and I also know he was incredibly racist, even by the standards of his own time. I am going to argue that it is all right to enjoy a creator as long as we acknowledge the issues we have with them. We don’t benefit from closing out the world. And a friend of mine has said that particularly applies when the creator is dead and won’t get any money from us buying their works.
And Maigret at Montmartre delivers why I read this series. I read Rex Stout to watch Archie and Nero bicker and I read Simenon to watch Maigret into everyone’s minds.