Georges Simenon’s *The Carter of La Providence* is a masterclass in atmosphere, a quality I’d forgotten until revisiting his work after years away. Introduced to Inspector Maigret through a college course on detective fiction, I hadn’t picked up a Simenon novel since, though I’d devoured every film and TV adaptation—Bruno Cremer’s portrayal always standing out as the definitive Maigret, his image lingering in my mind throughout this read. That mental picture only enhanced Simenon’s vivid prose, reminding me why he remains unmatched in crafting mood. Reading this book, I felt perpetually damp, as if the misty French canals had seeped into my bones.

The story unfolds on a slow, rainy day along a canal, a tranquil setting shattered by the discovery of a woman’s body. Mary Lampson—elegantly dressed, adorned with pearls—is found strangled in a stable, far from any road suitable for a car. The scene is perplexing: no noise, no witnesses, no mud to hint at her arrival. It’s a puzzle that baffles even the unflappable Inspector Maigret, who must unravel how this glamorous figure met such a grim fate. The clues seem to lie with the eclectic crew aboard the barge “La Providence:” Mary’s haughty husband, Sir Walter; the enigmatic Willy Marco; and a Chilean parliament member’s widow. Together, they form a web of secrets and quiet dramas that Simenon unravels with surgical precision.

What makes The Carter of La Providence so compelling is Simenon’s ability to peel back the veneer of the everyday, exposing its dark underbelly. The plot is taut and harrowing, but it’s the atmosphere—sodden, heavy, and alive—that lingers. Simenon doesn’t just tell a mystery; he immerses you in it. For fans of detective fiction or anyone who appreciates a story that seeps into your senses, this is a reminder of why he’s a titan of the genre. I won’t let another decade pass before picking up his next work.


Many thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced digital copy of this book.