If you’re a fan of cozy mysteries that combine a hint of intrigue with a love of food, wine, and regional culture, Bruno, Chief of Police by Martin Walker, may be right up your alley. The first in the Bruno, Chief of Police series introduces us to the laid-back yet perceptive Benoît “Bruno” Courrèges, a police chief in the idyllic village of Saint-Denis in the Dordogne region of southwestern France. Walker’s novel invites readers into a quaint and peaceful rural setting that belies the darker undertones of a crime story.
The Plot
Benoît Courrèges, affectionately known to everyone in his small town as “Bruno, Chief of Police,” is the sole law enforcement officer in the village. Unlike the national police, Bruno’s role is entirely local—he’s the man who knows everyone and everything. After we’re introduced to both Bruno and the close-knit community he serves in the lead-up to a local ceremony honoring the French Resistance, the plot takes a dark turn with the killing of an elderly Algerian Frenchman who lives on the fringes of town.
This reclusive immigrant, a decorated war hero who fought for France and earned the Croix de Guerre for his service, settled with his sprawling family in the close-knit town. Despite possible unrest in the homogenous little village with the influx of a growing non-white family, there appears to be no racial tension.
The veneer of complete racial harmony is cruelly stripped away when the murdered man is found with a swastika carved into his chest. With far-right groups gaining traction in recent elections, Bruno must grapple with whether they are behind this heinous act. As Bruno investigates, he finds seeds of hate being sown right under his nose and that the wounds of World War II have long shadows.
The Review
Francophiles rejoice and travel to the insular village of St Denis in the heart of rural France. Join Bruno as he walks his beat, chatting with the locals and finding ingenious ways to fend off the National Police as they try to regulate everything from homemade cheese to homemade wine! It is hard to imagine anything more heinous than too much national government oversight disturbing this peaceful town where lads play football and tennis and the old guard look fondly on their descendants, the ones they have successfully safeguarded from Naziism by their bravery decades before. The story’s beginning is romantic, with Walker indulging in all aspects of French culture people love to read about: the food and wine, their heady romances, and their brave resistance in ancient wars.
However, when an older man is found defaced with a swastika carved in his chest- Bruno and the residents of St.Denis are confronted with a harsh truth- this version of St. Denis is a fiction, one carefully crafted by its residents to mythologize its heroic past, but has blinded the residents to currents that swirl under the calm veneer.
Martin Walker’s series opener spends a lof of time pondering the National politics and extremism that seem to have little to do with the insular St. Denis. Bruno, a sort of jolly superman who feels he intimately knows the people and places he walks the beat of, is now thrust into a glaring national spotlight and must work with the austere and ultra-modern Paris police who keep the populace at a distance. Bruno grapples with whether he knows his neighbors and is plunged into a quagmire of old questions: does the past ever die? As Naziism has spread and metastasized in France under new faces and in different guises- Bruno must figure out if the threat to St. Denis is an old hate with a new face or a generational coming to the surface.
Bruno, Chief of Police, reminds me a great deal of the Wallander series in terms of discussing themes about the role of policing in a modern age, the rise of xenophobia, and the lurking racism of World War II. However, while Wallander’s Sweden is stark and Wallender is unsure and grappling with his feelings, Bruno is warm and inviting. He is sure about the French people and their place in the world. He feels that no matter what the evidence says- his gut, his lived observations of his friends and neighbors is a more accurate representation of France. At times, it was difficult to keep reading; I was sure he would be devastated by the harsh reality of modern France.
Walker fearlessly delves into the discussion, diagnosis, and critique of Nazism, the disillusionment of French youth, and the sterility of a National police force. Yet, the book doesn’t feel bleak. The characters, with their warmth and inviting nature, make the readers feel welcomed and connected. There’s a lot of talk about the finer things in French life- food, wine, romance, friendship, and, of course, families. Walker does an excellent job of highlighting the dual nature of the French nation and situates the mystery at the intersection of France’s past and present.
The mystery is a labyrinth, challenging even for Bruno, and it shakes the foundation of the story: the belief that St. Denis is a harmonious, family-centric town built on the remnants of a bygone era. While I managed to piece it together, the motives behind the murder delve into the essence of being a resident of St. Denis.
Bruno, the Chief of Police, is a gritty, complex mystery with many philosophical questions to ponder and a rich tapestry of characters, culture, and history. I recommend it, especially the audiobook version, performed by Robert Ian MacKenzie, who imbued the story with vitality and richness- and flawlessly pronounced the French names and places that might be unfamiliar to English speakers.
Golden Age of Detective Fiction 
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