Louise Penny
Detective fiction in the English-speaking world has long supported a tradition of procedural crime novels built around recurring investigators, and it's within that tradition that Canadian writer Louise Penny has made her mark. Born in Toronto on July 1, 1958, and educated at Toronto Metropolitan University, Penny worked as a journalist, radio personality, and presenter before turning to fiction writing.
Her novels, written in English, center on the Chief Inspector Armand Gamache series, a run of detective fiction that drew significant attention from the crime-writing community early in her career. She's a Canadian citizen who has continued producing work in that genre, bringing a background in broadcasting and journalism to her storytelling.
The honors Penny has collected across her career are extensive. She received both the Anthony Award for Best First Novel and the Anthony Award for Best Novel, along with the Barry Award for Best First Novel and the Barry Award for Best Novel. The Agatha Award for Best Novel, the Dilys Award, the Nero Award, the CWA New Blood Dagger, Macavity Awards, and Crime Writers of Canada Awards of Excellence are also among her recognitions. Beyond the crime-writing world, she was appointed a Member of the Order of Canada and an Officer of the National Order of Quebec, two of the country's more formal civic honors.
Quotes by Louise Penny
Louise Penny's insights on:
We all have, she knew, a place where we’re not only most comfortable, but most competent.
Who made the rule that people shouldn’t eat or drink in a church?” So they’d tried it. At first it felt awkward, wrong. As though God would be offended if people took a meal in his house. Until they realized that the sacrilege wasn’t eating and talking and laughing in the chapel. It was leaving it empty.
After more than a thousand years,” he continued, “an enemy finally broke through. Not because of superior firepower. Not because the Manchus were better fighters or strategists. They weren’t. The Manchus breached the Great Wall and took Beijing because someone opened a gate. From the inside. As simple as that. A general, a traitor, let them in and an empire fell.
Jews, gypsies, gays. It became normal and acceptable. No one told them what was happening was wrong. In fact, just the opposite.
That’s what I believe,” said Ruth. “Peter didn’t. Here was a man who was given everything. Talent, love, a peaceful place to live and create. And all he had to do was appreciate it.” “And if he didn’t?” “He would remain stone. And the deities would turn on him. They do, you know. They’re generous, but they demand gratitude.
Why were there no words that felt? Words that when you touched them you’d feel what was intended? The chasm left by the loss of Madeleine? The lump in the throat that fizzed and ached. The terror of falling asleep knowing that on waking she’d relive the loss, like Prometheus bound and tormented each day. Everything had changed. Even her grammar. Suddenly she lived in the past tense. And the singular.
This village has known loss, people killed before their time, accidents, war, disease. Three Pines isn’t immune to any of that. But you seem to accept it as part of life and not hang on to the bitterness.
He read the familiar first lines of the book and felt the calm come over him, like a comforter.
Recruiters, for terrorist cells and police forces and armies, relied on this simple truth: if you got people young enough, they could be made to do just about anything.