Gamache & Beauvoir

by Amy

“Sitting heavily in one of the leather wing chairs of the St-Laurent Bar, Chief Inspector Gamache asked for a glass of water […] getting to his feet and putting down a hundred dollars for the water and the use of the quiet table by the fireplace.”

Louise Penny wrote an elegant and delicately woven book in BURY YOUR DEAD.

In the early books, Gamache and Beauvoir are usually together. Beauvoir is Gamache’s right hand man and their different outlooks and styles compliment and contrast each other.

In BURY YOUR DEAD they are apart. Both are grieving. Both use cases as distractions and coping mechanisms while they deal with what happened. Both remember. We learn about the tragic outcome in the factory as they sort through their memories, share bits and pieces with others, or listen to the voices in their heads.

“Are you going to watch?” Beauvoir asked.Gamache thought. “Yes. You?”“Maybe.” He also paused. “Yes.” There was a silence as both men considered what that meant. “Oh, God,” sighed Beauvoir.“When you do, don’t be alone,” said Gamache.“I wish-““So do I,” said Gamache. They both wished the same thing. That if they had to relive it, they could at least be together.”

It is here, when they spend time away from each other, that the bond between them becomes even more evident. It is our awareness of their closeness that makes their estrangement, in the next books, so poignant.

The entire book goes back and forth between them. While they try to heal, we are allowed to peek into their memories and, slowly, we are shown what happened at the factory. In the meantime, we see Gamache help out in a new case, interacting with his mentor Émile, and we watch as Beauvoir reworks an old case, without his own mentor at his side.

Beauvoir is not Gamache. I don’t think any of us would like him to be.

In BURY YOUR DEAD Louise Penny shows us how important choices are. There is foreshadowing. We watch as the two men are faced with similar situations and, because of their backgrounds, personalities, and choices, they act differently.

Gamache once told Agent Nicole:

“We choose our thoughts. We choose our perceptions. We choose our attitudes. We may not think so. We may not believe it, but we do. I absolutely know we do. I’ve seen enough evidence, time after time, tragedy after tragedy. Triumph over triumph. It’s about choice.” (Still Life)

And so it is.

Thoughts. Perceptions. Attitudes.

“And there were always choices to make. Every day, every hour, offered the opportunity to make a decision, a decision which determined whether you would or would not submit to those powers which threatened to rob you of your very self, your inner freedom; which become the plaything of circumstance, renouncing freedom and dignity to become molded into the form of the typical inmate.” (MAN’S SEARCH FOR MEANING – Viktor Frankle)

Not long after their phone conversation and their admission that they would have liked to watch the video together, we are shown how hurt and betrayed Gamache feels because of the choice Émile, his mentor, made in the case at hand.

“What’s happened?” Émile asked, seeing the look on Gamache’s face.”Gamache hesitated. For the first time in his life he was tempted to lie to this man who had lied to him.”

It’s eerie. In the next book, it is the video that triggers a feeling of abandonment in Beauvoir. He has many opportunities to confront Gamache, to question him, to give him the chance to explain himself. He doesn’t choose to do any of those things in A BEAUTIFUL MYSTERY. Not that there was any accusation to be made, but our feelings don’t always align with facts and aren’t always reasonable. Beauvoir is no exception. While he knew Gamache had to find Morin, he still felt left behind.

“You lied to me,” said Gamache.“It was just half an hour.“It was more than that and you know it. You made a choice, chose a side.”“A side? Are you saying the Champlain Society is on a different side than you?”“I’m saying we all have loyalties. You’ve made yours clear.”Émile stared. “I’m sorry, I should never have lied to you. It won’t happen again.”

Thoughts. Perceptions. Actions.

Gamache and Émile interpreted things differently. When Gamache chose to explain his interpretation of Émile’s lie, he gave his mentor a glimpse into how he felt and what that half an hour, apparently insignificant, meant to him. Even as he confronts him about that – and other, worse lies – Gamache is giving his friend an opportunity to know how he feels.

In the next book, Beauvoir’s pain is palpable. He doesn’t make Gamache privy to his feelings. He doesn’t confront Gamache. He reminds me a bit of a teenager who cannot come to grips with the fact that their parents – who were once their heroes – are, in fact, only human. Beauvoir oscillates between justifying Gamache in his own mind, and feeling an enormous pain of abandonment. He sways back and forth from guilt to blame. He cannot find middle ground. I can’t help feeling that if he’d only just broken down and TOLD his mentor all would have been well... But then the story wouldn’t be half as good, would it?

“Émile stared, stricken, but said nothing.Gamache turned and strode down the long corridor, his phone buzzing again and his heart pounding.“Wait, Armand,” he heard behind him but kept walking, ignoring the calls. Then he remembered what Émile had meant to him and still did. Did this one bad thing wipe everything else out?”

Sigh.

Thoughts. Perceptions. Actions. Choices.

“That was the danger. Not that betrayals happened, not that cruel things happened, but that they could outweigh all the good. That we could forget the good and only remember the bad. But not today. Gamache stopped.”

Can’t you just see Beauvoir making a similar choice? What if, instead of getting on that helicopter with Francoeur (in The Beautiful Mystery), he had chosen to stay with Gamache? What if they had finally watched that video together? What if Gamache had confided his suspicions and his plans?

Again: Beauvoir is not Gamache. I wouldn’t want him to be. I have a soft spot for Beauvoir. Like the ladies eating their post-exercise scones, I too have a crush on him. While I would have liked for him to make the same kind of choice as Gamache, I realize Beauvoir’s actions are probably closer to what most of us would do in similar circumstances.

When Viktor Frankl tells of the experiences prisoners went through in concentration camps, he talks about choices and about those who rise above circumstances and are models of resilience. They are the exception. Not the rule. Just as Gamache is an exeption in behavior, time and again.

“Of the prisoners only a few kept their full inner liberty and obtained those values which their suffering afforded, but even one such example is sufficient proof that man’s inner strength may raise him above his outward fate.” (MAN’S SEARCH FOR MEANING – VIKTOR FRANKL)

To rise above our outward fate. What a great goal.

Gamache is not naïve. He isn’t unaware of cruelty, betrayal, pain, or evil in the world. He couldn’t be. Not in his line of work. He has the strength of character necessary to rise above his outward circumstances, and the faith it takes to see and show grace and love and forgiveness in the light of suffering. That is why the Chief Inspector is such a wonderful role model.

“In his [Gamache] pocket he felt the bottle of pills. His hand went to it, closing over it.He closed his eyes.Then taking his empty hand from his pocket he started calling the officers who’d survived, and the families of those who hadn’t. He talked to their mothers, their fathers, their wives and a husband. In the background he could hear a young child asking for milk. Over and over he called and listened to their rage, their pain, that someone could release a video of this event. Not once did they blame him, though Armand Gamache knew they could.”
[…]
“Before he [Beauvoir] left he went into the washroom and splashed cold water onto his face. He looked into the reflection and saw there a man far older than his thirty-eight years. Drawn and tired. And not wanting to do what came next.He felt an ache deep down.Bringing the pill bottle out of his pocket he placed it on the counter and stared at it. Then pouring himself a glass of water he shook a pill into his palm. Carefully breaking it in half he swallowed it with a quick swig.”

These scenes echo in my mind. Time and again we see Beauvoir in a similar situation and succumbing where the Chief did not. It’s easy to judge and say he should have chosen differently. It isn’t hard to make excuses and say he didn’t have his mentor’s support system, maturity or wisdom. It's easy to justify that they had different wounds and different pain - both physical and emotional.

“Those who see the heart only as a place of weakness will be fearful of their own hearts. For them, the heart is a place of pain and anguish, of chaos and of transitory emotions.” (BECOMING HUMAN – Vanier)

It’s true. He should have chosen differently. While there are other factors involved, addiction involves a choice at some point. He didn't make the best choice. And it is also true that he had neither the self-assurance, nor the wisdom of his mentor. He didn’t have Gamache’s faith in grace. It doesn’t excuse his choice, but it might help explain it. Beauvoir still has a long road to travel before he learns to deal with his heart, his vulnerability, and, ultimately, his inner strength. It’s a beautiful journey, though. I’m glad we were invited to come along. “Things are strongest when they’re broken,” is a recurring phrase in the Chief Inspectors memories of Paul Morin. Beauvoir is a stronger – and better – man in the later books. And yes, I still have a crush on him.

“Man is not fully conditioned and determined but rather determines himself whether he gives in to conditions or stands up to them. In other words, man is ultimately self-determining. Man does not simply exist but always decides what his existence will be, what he will become in the next moment.” (MAN’S SEARCH FOR MEANING – Viktor Frankl)

Thoughts. Perceptions. Actions. Choices.

If we realize how much of an impact the interpretation we spin on life affects our actions, we might consciously learn to determine it. We have a choice in how we perceive the world around us. We have a choice regarding what we let our thoughts dwell on. We are not in complete control of our fate, but our choices help shape our lives and our future.

We cannot control what others do or say. We can choose how we react. We frequently cannot control the conditions in our lives. Sometimes we have a choice in promoting a change in our circumstances. Sometimes we can make a choice in how we change ourselves in order to handle what life has given us.

I am frequently teased about being a “Pollyanna”. I’m not an optimist. Far from it. I tend to be very critical and am not unaware of problems, pain, or sorrow. Pollyanna did have an impact in my life, though. Both the book and the movie are probably indelibly engraved in my psyche. As I grew up, I began to do it ever more consciously. It’s become a habit. A good one, I think. Although I’m still very much a work in progress.

“Merci.”Émile paused, taken by surprise. “What for?”“For not leaving me.”Émile reached out and touched Gamache on the arm, then clicked the button and the video started to play.”

Again there are echoes. Gamache chose to confront his mentor and, ultimately, to forgive a lie that he relegated to a small portion in the whole of who his mentor was to him. He had his old mentor at his side when he watched the video. The one thing he thanks Émile for is the one thing that Beauvoir later feels Gamache himself had once failed to do.

Thoughts. Perceptions. Actions. Choices.

I pray that we all are blessed with grace. I pray that we find the strength to change that which can be changed, to confront and forgive when needed, and to understand our plight or at least find meaning, so we can not only endure, but raise ourselves above our fate.

I should drink more water. We should probably all drink more water. I have a little bush in my backyard that has citrus-scented leaves. I like to add them to a water jug and it gives a faint citrus taste to my water.

Unless stated otherwise all quotes are from BURY YOUR DEAD

Quinoa & Pomegranate Salad and Mentors

by Amy

“And how’s Isabelle doing?” asked Gamache.

“Acting Chief Inspector Lacoste?” asked Beauvoir with a smile. His protégée had taken over as head of homicide for the Sûreté, a job everyone had once assumed would be his on the Chief’s retirement. Though Jean-Guy knew it wasn’t accurate to describe what had happened as a retirement. That made it sound predictable. No one could have predicted the events that had caused the head of homicide to quit the Sûreté and buy a home in a village so small and obscure it didn’t appear on any map.

“Isabelle’s doing fine.”

“You mean Ruth Zardo ‘fine’?” asked Gamache.

“Pretty much. With a little work she’ll get there. She had you as a role model, sir.”

And what a role model.

I read a book in my teens that has stayed with me. Don’t ask me the name or the author. I don’t remember. I was abroad, spending some months with friends, and found a book in English in their (very small and limited) library. The book was about the importance of relationships to keep you motivated and on track in life. It compared life to the Boston Marathon and mentioned the importance of motivation once you reach Heartbreak Hill. Relationships matter. The book goes on to describe five types of people in our lives.

It is a testament to the impact the book had in my life that over than two decades have passed and I still remember what they are (although I don’t remember the precise wording). The positive ones are the mentors, the friends, and the disciples or protégées. There are neutral people who neither applaud nor bring you down. Then there are the ones that drain you. They have a negative impact in your life.

The author distributes these people on a spectrum and turns their presence and influence in your life into a mathematical representation where mentors contribute with +++, friends ++, protégées +, neutrals 0, and drainers with -, --, ---...

Or at least that’s how I remember it.

Gamache is a wonderful role model. He not only sets a good example, but he makes sure to be available. That’s important. Some things can be learned by watching or reading, but it’s important to find the time to learn through interaction with people who know more than we do. The younger and the more inexperienced you are, the easier it is to find people to fulfill this role. As you yourself grow into a mentor, there are fewer and fewer people available to play that role in your own life. They should be cherished.

Sometimes books can act as mentors. We can converse with great thinkers long gone and we can strive to learn from their ideas. We can argue with their logic, and we can learn from their mistakes.

Friends – and even protégées - can sometimes play the role of counselors and supporters and listeners. 

But there is a certain comfort in talking to someone more experienced who knows what you’re going through, who you respect and whose opinion and validation matter. It’s like being able to crawl into a parent’s lap and be held. It makes you feel safe.

“Isabelle Lacoste called Gamache at least once a week, and they met for lunch in Montréal a couple times a month. Always away from Sûreté headquarters. He insisted on that, so he wouldn’t undermine the new Chief Inspector’s authority.” 

Lacoste had questions only the former Chief could answer. Sometimes procedural issues, but often questions that were more complex and human. About uncertainties, about insecurities. About her fears. 

Gamache listened and sometimes talked about his own experiences. Reassuring her that what she felt was natural, and normal, and healthy. He’d felt all those things almost every day of his career. Not that he was a fraud, but that he was afraid.”

Lacoste has Gamache, just as Gamache himself had Émile. When he was Chief he did the same. He visited his own mentor and, in his time of need, his mentor’s home was the safe haven he went to while he regrouped and recovered.

"Gamache stirred his coffee and watched his mentor.

He considered him a great man, one of the few he'd met. Great not in his singularity of purpose, but in his multiplicity. He'd taught his young protégé how to be a homicide investigator, but he'd taught him more besides.

Gamache remembered being shown into Chief Inspector Comeau's office his first week on the job, certain he was about to be fired for some mysterious transgression. Instead the wiry, self-contained man had stared at him for a few seconds then invited him to sit and told him the four sentences that lead to wisdom. He'd said them only once, never repeating them. But once had been enough for Gamache."

One of the things I admire is both these dynamics is that not only are the mentors willing to listen, but their protégés are respectful. It is not unusual for youth (and they say young is 10 years younger than you, right? So I'm not talking about an age group, I'm speaking of relative youth) to ignore, reject, belittle, or ridicule the past and those who lived it. I think both Gamache and Lacoste are wise in that they not only respect, but use their mentors as a foundation on which they build their own practice.

“Agent Cohen started this morning,” said Lacoste, taking a forkful of quinoa, feta, and pomegranate salad. “I called him into the office and told him that there were four statements that lead to wisdom. I said I was only going to recite them once, and he could do with them as he wished.”

Armand Gamache lowered his fork to his plate and listened.

“I don’t know. I was wrong. I’m sorry.” Lacoste recited them slowly, lifting a finger to count them off.

“I need help,” the Chief said, completing the statements. The ones he’d taught young Agent Lacoste many years ago. The ones he’d recited to all his new agents.”

And Lacoste is not only a respectful student, a good colleague, and a protégée who continues to honor and include her own mentor, but she is willing to do the (hard) work of mentoring others.

I was writing the first draft on a Sunday when a patient’s mom called asking me to talk to her little sister because she wasn’t feeling well. They’d just lost their mother to very aggressive leukemia. She died within three days of being first hospitalized. Her youngest daughter, at 11 year of age, was experiencing chest pains and shortness of breath. 

My patients frequently come to my home when there’s an emergency during the weekend or a holiday. So when she asked, I said sure. I’ll be waiting. And I was. My husband and son played a videogame inside and I sat in my living room with this child and listened to her pain.

This beautiful and articulate child asked me the questions everyone asks when faced with insurmountable challenges and pain. If it hurts this much now, will it get worse? Will I ever be happy again? How will I survive the pain? What if I feel so breathless that I can’t stand up? What if I faint?People say she can see me, but how do I know that for sure? She used to say change can be a good thing, but she was the one who helped me handle changes in my life – how will I manage this change without her? What if I can’t do my homework? Who will remind me and tell me to do it even when I don’t feel like it? What if I fail? She used to say she’d be sad if I didn’t do well at school – what if I’m so sad I can’t pay attention? Who will help me choose my wedding dress? What if I wake up in the middle of the night and forget she’s gone and try to find her? Who’s going to tell me jokes to make me laugh when I’m upset? Who’s going to tuck me in and say ‘I love you’? How will I tell my children about her?

We cried together. She told me stories about her mother and she made me laugh. She managed to smile and surprised herself when she realized she still knew how. At one point I asked if she wanted to curl up in my lap. It wasn’t the same, but it was available. She nodded and sobbed while I held her. I couldn’t stop my own tears. I didn't try. I'm used to getting emotional with patients and have learned that it's no use trying to stop myself from shedding a few tears (or a bucket-full) and people usually don't mind.

At one point she said her mother still sometimes cried when she thought of her own mother. I hugged her tighter and said, “So now you know what you’ll sometimes do when you talk about her for the rest of your life, right?” She nodded.

Her chest pains and shortness of breath were gone by the time she left for her mother’s funeral. I cried a little bit more for the little girl who lost her mentor. I cried at the thought of losing my own mother – who’s also one of my best friends. And I cried at the idea of leaving my own son behind when I know he still needs me. Needless to say, I cried while writing this post.

I have said, time and again, that this blog is a form of therapy. This time it was also preparation. I’d been writing right before she came. I’d been thinking of how wonderful it is to have mentors and to have people we look up to. I’d been thinking of how sometimes (and more frequently as we grow older or more experienced in our fields) there are less and less people to fulfill the role of mentor. I was thinking of how important it is to find the time to listen and help those who come to us for advice and help.

When I hugged this little girl and we cried together, we talked about how special her mom was and how she’d already taught her so much. The girl told me what her mother would have said and done if she were there. I repeated back to her what her mother would have said. I did what her mother would have done. It wasn’t her voice. My hug wasn’t the same hug. But, in the end, I told her she was stronger than she thought. And her mother was so real and present and important in her life that she knew exactly how to help me help her. I told her sometimes the people we need to hear are not with us. When that happens, we rely on memories, on stories, and on new sources of wisdom.

I realize not everyone is blessed with wonderful parents. Most of us will never have a professional mentor like Gamache. Maybe, at this point, we should remind ourselves to honor those we still have with us and gratefully remember those who are gone. But, more important still, we should strive to be good, empathetic mentors and to listen and share with those who are willing to learn from our experiences – and our mistakes.

My son and I both love pomegranates. They take very (very, very, very) long to ripen. It takes months to go from a flower to a ripe fruit. The tree is right outside my office window and we’ll both watch them bud and blossom and ripen. We both love to eat it plain.

I confess to feeling a little guilty for not sharing this one with him as he didn’t enjoy the salad. I cooked some quinoa and let it cool off. I then added pomegranate seeds, chopped parsley, a squeeze of lemon juice, a teaspoon of olive oil, a pinch (half a pinch) of salt, and a few nuts pulled out of the homemade granola jar that was on the counter. It was refreshing and delicious. I didn’t have any feta, but I didn’t miss it in the salad.

But then, you know that thing with mentors? When it comes to gardening and cooking, Libby is waaaaaay beyond my skills. A whole other category (probably many categories). When we first thought of making this blog she had ripe pomegranates in her garden (what are the odds? we live around the world from each other and both have pomegranates in their backyards!). She went ahead and made this salad - I think it was one of the first meals she made and photographed. It was one of the meals that's been circling in my head ever since.

Here's her fabulous recipe:

Quinoa, Pomegranate & Feta Salad
by Libby

This late summer/autumn salad, when pomegranates are in season, is all about balancing taste contrasts and interesting textures. Quinoa is a high protein cereal and a good substitute for rice. You can cook it similarly to rice. I cook it in chicken stock for added richness and flavour.

The nutty taste of quinoa works well with the sweet/tart explosion of pomegranate seeds and the rich salty creaminess of the feta. The crunch of fragrant pistachios is an added contrast.   Caramelising some red onion and garlic as a flavour base ensures that the salad won't be bland. This is a dish to taste as you put it together, to check that the balance of flavours is right for you.

1 cup of quinoa

2 cups of chicken stock (or water)

1 red onion, halved and sliced thinly

2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

seeds of 1 pomegranate

300g/10oz of feta cheese, broken into small bite-sized pieces

2/3 cup unsalted pistachios, toasted

3 spring onions, finely sliced

2/3 cup of flat leaf parsley, sliced

extra-virgin olive oil

one lemon, halved

sea salt and cracked black pepper

1.  Bring the chicken stock (or water) to the boil in a medium saucepan. Pour in the quinoa and simmer for about 15 minutes until the germ of the quinoa pops out. Strain and set aside.

2.  Fry the red onion, garlic and a pinch of salt in extra-virgin olive oil in a large heavy-based frypan on a low to medium heat. Add a squeeze of lemon juice.Allow the onion to soften and slowly caramelise. This will give a lovely savoury base note to the salad.

3.  Reduce the heat to low and add the cooked quinoa. Mix thoroughly with the onion and garlic.

4.  Toss through the pistachios, spring onions, parsley and feta cheese.

5.  Generously drizzle with good extra-virgin olive oil and lemon juice. Season with cracked black pepper.

6. Toss through the pomegranate seeds.

Taste and adjust the balance of ingredients to maximise the flavour contrasts. You might, for example, prefer more or less feta cheese, or more lemon for added sharpness.

Serve warm.

I couldn't resist making a 'zingy' drink of freshly squeezed pomegranate juice, grapefruit juice and sparkling mineral water to accompany the salad. 

So there you have it! Two salads!