On a hillside outside of the bastide town of Beaumont-du-Périgord sits a renovated farmhouse with incomparable views of the walls and 13th Century fortified church of this medieval settlement. It is beautiful, peaceful and eternal.
I've spent countless blissful evenings on the terrace of the house eating flambéed duck and drinking the wines of Bergerac in the company of family and friends. Sunday lunchtimes are reserved for oysters from the market at nearby Issigeac, a bottle or two of Muscadet and rotisserie chicken to follow. The food and the wine are magnificent and the view nourishes the soul.
This is La France Profonde and a rural almost mythical way of life dominated by agriculture and food and a culture tied to this most beautiful land. It is here that I first came across Bruno, Chief of Police, the first in a series of novels set in the fictional Perigord town of St. Denis in a stack of books left for visitors by my aunt and uncle, voracious readers and former owners of the farmhouse.
That was about six or seven years ago. Last week I finished the 15th and most recent book in the series, To Kill a Troubadour, and as I was doing so felt a great sense of loss, because every one of the novels is evocative of that glorious landscape and all its riches. I couldn't read one without wanting to visit Monpazier, Domme or Monbazillac or to open a bottle of Pecharmant wine from the Chateau du Tiregand.
Martin Walker's books feature contemporary thriller stories that confront many of the most important geopolitical themes facing western democracies - from the Catalan nationalism crisis in this most recent book to immigration and Russian cyber crime - but also lean back into the controversies of France's past, including war time secrets of the resistance. They draw on the Périgord's rich heritage of prehistoric art and its modern status as a retirement departement, attracting a retiring population to the sun. And the books work well on this level, exciting and well-paced stories, even if the sheer frequency of international intrigue and espionage in the Vezere valley stretches credulity somewhat.
It is not that that makes these books so enjoyable though, rather it is the celebration of the Perigord and its way of life. Bruno, or Benoît Courrèges to give him his full name, lives in a converted shepherd's hut. He keeps chickens and geese and is more or less self-sufficient with a bounteous vegetable patch. He coaches rugby, is a part owner of the local vineyard and a keen hunter. Two of the early books feature crimes in the local wine and truffle industries - and they are marvellous. He patrols the town market with his basset hound, is an impressario of sorts for local entertainers and an extraordinary cook. Each book reveals at least one indispensable recipe for duck and a minimum of two feasts with his friends and colleagues that also serve as a guide for local wines.
The Dordogne Mysteries bring the region vividly to life, each issuing a welcome and a reminder that it's a mere seven hour drive from here. Just around the corner really...I could be there for a late dinner.
Those who already know and love the Périgord will enjoy settling into Bruno's bucolic life. For those who have never been, there is a rare treat in store. And even if the travel is not for you, the books provide entertaining and mystery.