The more mysteries I read, the more discriminating I am getting. I think this is the way reading can work. If this were the first mystery I had ever read I probably would have thought this was good, and you know, Andrea Camilleri is generally a good and entertaining writer. He's loved the world over. My ratings of, say, Jo Nesbo's gruesome serial killer thrillers tend to be--as I look back--rated a little more highly than I now remember them. I guess I thought, well, for a thriller, this is very good, even if I have a particular distaste for slashers. This one by Camilleri is a slasher, and I don't like it. Superfluous, unnecessary, going for sensational, cheap (but actually disgusting, preposterous, and unbelievable) "thrills."
Treasure Hunt is #16 in the Inspector Montalbano series set in Vigàta, Sicily, and it is the one I have least liked thus far. It begins somewhat promisingly, with an elderly brother and sister opening fire on the piazza below their apartment, punishing people for their sins. Montalbano gets credit for intervening, his face all over the media. Soon after that, Montalbano begins getting cryptic notes inviting him to go on a "treasure hunt" of sorts for various clues. Why this cat and mouse game? Why would Salvo even agree to play?
As usual, the first third of the book is entertaining, but we know as in all of his short books, that if there are two crimes, they are related, and Salvo will make that link. And he does. One early item that "pops up" (pun intended) is the presence of life-sized, inflatable dolls. Never fails to get people chuckling, right? Well, the dolls are important to the resolution of the "treasure hunt," that's all I'll say. A key to the link between the two stories-within-the story.
So what else is here? As usual, "beautiful" (always beautiful! why read about ugly girls?!) girls, prostitutes, friends of Salvo (such as Ingrid) flow through these books like water, and I am not objecting to their presence, nor the continuing presence of sumptuous Sicilian meals, sumptuously described. And the ways the connections get made, and the evolution of the man character himself, all of this points to solid writing.
I just thought the crime was unnecessarily graphic. Even the experienced cop Salvo gets physically sick from it, so what does Camilleri expect from us, applause? We never get why the guy is doing this stuff, either. Psychopaths just are not all that interesting to me. The light and breezy and colorful cover and the comedic opening promise a treasure, and we get the rug pulled out from under us as as search with Salvo: A lump of coal for Christmas, no treasure at all!
Ah, but it IS Halloween as I finish the book, so maybe this grotesque story would be appropriate for some readers especially today!