Pietr The Latvian, by Georges Simenon

The first detective (or rather, suspense?) novel starring Inspector Maigret.

Simenon is another of the bestselling authors of all time. I was not super impressed. I don't it was actually possible for the reader to guess anything here? The detective didn't make any great deductions, just chased around a bunch of shady characters and ultimately elicited a confession?

I think a lot of writing is about vibes more than plots, and I have previously enjoyed hardboiled detective writers like Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett, who arguably have equally-not-solvable detective stories. So maybe I was just missing the point here, or in the wrong mood, or whatever -- Simenon does have astute psychological observations, I thought, on the few times he bothered to deploy them, and does know how to create a misty mood.

I can no longer access it, because it's behind a paywall, but if I'm not mistaken this Paris Review interview with him has an amazing segment where he explains how he writes his novels: he goes to his doctor and gets the all-clear on his heart rate and stress levels and stuff, then locks himself in a room for 10 days and writes till the novel is finished. This is my absolute dream -- I mean, I am slightly less impressed by it now I have read one of his actual novels, but still, that's a life I'd love to lead, just knock out X novels a year in 10 days each and spend the rest of the time lounging.