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Van der Valk #6
The King of the Rainy Country
This was the end of the story that had started 'Once upon a time, in a rainy country, there was a king...' The end had not happened in a rainy country, but on a bone-dry Spanish hillside, three hundred metres from where Van der Valk had left a lot of blood, some splintered bone, a few fragments of gut, and a ten-seventy-five Mauser rifle bullet.
No one had broken any laws. But a handsome, middle-aged millionaire had disappeared with a naked girl. And Van der Valk was given the job of finding out why.
No one had broken any laws. But a handsome, middle-aged millionaire had disappeared with a naked girl. And Van der Valk was given the job of finding out why.
166 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1965
23 people are currently reading
205 people want to read
About the author
Nicolas Freeling
87 books59 followersNicolas Freeling born Nicolas Davidson, (March 3, 1927 - July 20, 2003) was a British crime novelist, best known as the author of the Van der Valk series of detective novels which were adapted for transmission on the British ITV network by Thames Television during the 1970s.
Freeling was born in London, but travelled widely, and ended his life at his long-standing home at Grandfontaine to the west of Strasbourg. He had followed a variety of occupations, including the armed services and the catering profession. He began writing during a three-week prison sentence, after being convicted of stealing some food.[citation needed]
Freeling's The King of the Rainy Country received a 1967 Edgar Award, from the Mystery Writers of America, for Best Novel. He also won the Gold Dagger of the Crime Writers' Association, and France's Grand Prix de Littérature Policière.
From Wikipedia
Series:
* Van Der Valk
* Henri Castang
Freeling was born in London, but travelled widely, and ended his life at his long-standing home at Grandfontaine to the west of Strasbourg. He had followed a variety of occupations, including the armed services and the catering profession. He began writing during a three-week prison sentence, after being convicted of stealing some food.[citation needed]
Freeling's The King of the Rainy Country received a 1967 Edgar Award, from the Mystery Writers of America, for Best Novel. He also won the Gold Dagger of the Crime Writers' Association, and France's Grand Prix de Littérature Policière.
From Wikipedia
Series:
* Van Der Valk
* Henri Castang
Ratings & Reviews
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 36 reviews
March 4, 2015
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 5, 2007
Freeling had a life as a chef and, during a jail sentence for demonstrating, wrote his first van der valk mystery. Later he killed off van der valk, had his wife fill in for a bit and then created Castang. He is gthe best of the European mystery writers (Yes even better than Simenon and van de Vettering).
January 17, 2013
A very different type of detective novel, I enjoyed the philosophising and somewhat negative attitude of the main character. I am slowly working my way through all the Van der Valk stories.
March 4, 2015
From BBC Radio 4 Extra:
A millionaire and a naked girl disappear. Can the Dutch sleuth find them? Nicholas Freeling's thriller stars Martin Jarvis.
A millionaire and a naked girl disappear. Can the Dutch sleuth find them? Nicholas Freeling's thriller stars Martin Jarvis.
June 4, 2013
A slim novel whose one claim to fame is winning the Edger Award for best mystery in 1967. The book follows Van Der Valk, a Dutch police inspector, who is ordered by his superiors to find a missing millionaire. There is little here that is mysterious and the thin plot is driven by some unbelievable coincidences instead of detailed police procedural. For example, during a phone conversation, a colleague in Germany mentions a missing person case he is working on. It seems that a 17 year old girl has gone missing after being seen talking to a middle-aged man. Aha!, it must be the missing millionaire (of course, there are no pictures or videos and just the vaguest description of the man, but it has to be him!). The book reads mostly as a travelogue as the inspector travels to Cologne, Innsbruck, Chamonix, and finally to Strasbourg on the trail of the millionaire (who has really committed no crime other than leaving his wife and having a fling with a German girl half his age). The book hasn't aged well and there's a few scattered racist and anti-semetic comments that crop up here and there: after getting a blood transfusion the inspector is told he had to be given "several litres of blood belonging to Arabs and black men and who knows who". In describing someone who cares a little too much about money, the millionaire's wife says: "Soul of an auctioneer. My husband knows about such things and loves them. There's a strong Jewish streak in that family, though they get furious if you suggest any such thing" The writting is unexceptional and, all in all, it's a rather unimpressive book.
February 21, 2023
A Van der Valk tale. The policeman is privately hired to find a missing, mysterious millionaire, which in a complicated process he does, getting himself shot in the process. Complicated and equivocal, just like the BBC series based on the books came to be. It’s airing recently on PBS and is certainly worth watching.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
July 30, 2024
After reading a few pulpy detective novels (The Big Sleep, The Maltese Falcon) I thought I’d try something in the same genre but in a different vein. I found this novel quite dull. Very low stakes from the protagonist’s point of view, and a very slow plot driving the story. It wasn’t until about 3/4’s of the way through that something remotely interesting happened. And after that, not much else interesting happened at all.
October 19, 2017
An intrepid, literate policeman romps across Europe on a missing person case. The syntax is unusual in places, and I wondered why since English was the language of publication. The author was, however, Dutch. I picked up some vocabulary. “Mataglap,” for example, means “insane” in the Netherlands. There were some excellent descriptions: “Looking at that pale ham of a face, one would have said that the summit of feeling for the man would be a double helping of pork chop and fried potatoes with pickled cucumber.” And original similes: “The Mercedes rippled off with a noise like a woman’s fingers smoothing a satin evening skirt, and Van der Valk climbed into the hired Renault, which made a noise like a dock hand stacking empty old drums.”
August 8, 2022
This has a rather silly and unrealistic plot but the Baudelaire references are great.
March 17, 2025
Cartea a fost publicată în România în anul 1969 iar apoi, pesemne pentru că volumele din primul tiraj începuseră deja să se dezmembreze din cauza hârtiei de foartă proastă calitate, a fost republicată în 1992. Este singurul text al scriitorului Nicolas Freeling apărut în limba română. Cine nu cunoaște suficient de bine limba engleză pentru a putea să citească în original despre toate cazurile detectivului Van der Valk va trebui să se mulțumească, cel puțin deocamdată, doar cu această carte...
Una singură publicată și doar atât... Pierderea este a cititorului, fără doar și poate. Acel cititor care poate s-a plictisit de valul de filme, seriale și cărți în care toate cazurile sunt rezolvate de o secție întreagă de poliție, pentru că această uriașă tâmpenie numită corectitudine politică trebuie să rezerve fiecărui personaj un rol important în capturarea infractorului. De la Vlădică la Opincă toată lumea “își aduce contribuția” și nimeni nu e “mai cu moț”. Exact ca la furnici, ce frumos…
Foarte rar se întâmplă să mai descoperim acel erou, acea minte briliantă care pune lucrurile cap la cap și descifrează enigme aparent imposibile, și care apoi poate lucra împreună cu colegii săi pentru a soluționa întregul mister. În ziua de azi Inventatorul a dispărut, toate descoperirile sunt făcute de către “un grup de cercetători”. Toate animalele trebuie să fie egale, și nici măcar unul dintre ele nu poate fi… mai egal decât celelalte…
Ei bine, Van der Valk este acel tip de erou, acel detectiv solitar pe care și-au clădit mare parte din opera lor literară scriitori precum Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle, Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett sau George Simenon. Un detectiv strălucit, cu fler (astăzi aproape toți polițiștii fictivi din filme, seriale și cărți dispun de o tehnologie fabuloasă, dar despre fler sau vocație nu mai pomenește aproape nimeni, autorii nu consideră necesară existența acestor amănunte desuete…), care merge “pe firul” faptelor și al logicii, și care, incredibil, mai face din când în când și greșeli.
…Să-mi reamintească vă rog cineva când a văzut ultima oară un film nou sau a citit o carte polițistă proaspăt apărută în care grupul de detectivi sau de polițiști mai comite și erori… În cinematografia sau în literatura modernă, toate concluziile desprinse de-a lungul soluționării cazului sunt perfecte și definitive, că doar de aceea suntem așa de mulți, unde-s mulți nu se greșește niciodată, exact cum își fac furnicile mușuroiul, ce frumos…
De-a lungul timpului am citit de mai multe ori “Regele unei țări ploioase” și, dincolo de impecabila narațiune “strict polițistă”, am fost intrigat de fiecare dată de un anumit pasaj care nu are nicio legătură directă cu conținutul. Este vorba despre o analiză comportamentală pe care o face autorul și pe care sub nicio formă nu te-ai aștepta să o descoperi în textul unui scriitor englez.
“Van der Valk medita asupra pasiunii. Acestea sunt de două feluri, se gândea el. Pasiunea nordică - despre care se crede că are un puternic substrat emoțional, dar care este puternică numai în imaginație. În această categorie intră olandezii, germanii, scandinavii, englezii, americanii. Foarte înclinați să falsifice realitatea, și să suspine înghițind melodrame; noi nu avem pasiuni, dar ni le imaginăm cu atâta intensitate, încât ne înșelăm pe noi înșine că suntem gata să facem gesturi de un măreț dramatism. Aceasta pare să fie romanța noastră, care nu este deloc romanță ci romanțiozitate. Vărsăm găleți de lacrimi asupra pasiunii, deși aceasta ne lipsește; ne sinucidem dacă este cazul, dar numai din pură milă egoistă. Gesturile noastre mari sunt insuflate de un simț teatral lacrimogen și extravagant.
Adevărata pasiune o au popoarele latine. Citiți ziarele din Franța sau din Italia. Crima pasională este la ordinea zilei, pe când în nordul Europei se întâmplă extrem de rar. Fapta unuia care își împușcă soția pare rezonabilă și, din punct de vedere psihologic, probabilă. Un bărbat cu desăvârșire lipsit de imaginație, un vânzător de magazin, un comis-voiajor de îngrășăminte chimice este în stare să-și sugrume amanta care a fugit cu un comisionar; dacă intră în primul comisariat de poliție, nimeni nu se gândește să ridice din sprâncene.”
Recomand această carte cu prioritate.
https://www.bucurestifm.ro/2025/03/17...
Una singură publicată și doar atât... Pierderea este a cititorului, fără doar și poate. Acel cititor care poate s-a plictisit de valul de filme, seriale și cărți în care toate cazurile sunt rezolvate de o secție întreagă de poliție, pentru că această uriașă tâmpenie numită corectitudine politică trebuie să rezerve fiecărui personaj un rol important în capturarea infractorului. De la Vlădică la Opincă toată lumea “își aduce contribuția” și nimeni nu e “mai cu moț”. Exact ca la furnici, ce frumos…
Foarte rar se întâmplă să mai descoperim acel erou, acea minte briliantă care pune lucrurile cap la cap și descifrează enigme aparent imposibile, și care apoi poate lucra împreună cu colegii săi pentru a soluționa întregul mister. În ziua de azi Inventatorul a dispărut, toate descoperirile sunt făcute de către “un grup de cercetători”. Toate animalele trebuie să fie egale, și nici măcar unul dintre ele nu poate fi… mai egal decât celelalte…
Ei bine, Van der Valk este acel tip de erou, acel detectiv solitar pe care și-au clădit mare parte din opera lor literară scriitori precum Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle, Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett sau George Simenon. Un detectiv strălucit, cu fler (astăzi aproape toți polițiștii fictivi din filme, seriale și cărți dispun de o tehnologie fabuloasă, dar despre fler sau vocație nu mai pomenește aproape nimeni, autorii nu consideră necesară existența acestor amănunte desuete…), care merge “pe firul” faptelor și al logicii, și care, incredibil, mai face din când în când și greșeli.
…Să-mi reamintească vă rog cineva când a văzut ultima oară un film nou sau a citit o carte polițistă proaspăt apărută în care grupul de detectivi sau de polițiști mai comite și erori… În cinematografia sau în literatura modernă, toate concluziile desprinse de-a lungul soluționării cazului sunt perfecte și definitive, că doar de aceea suntem așa de mulți, unde-s mulți nu se greșește niciodată, exact cum își fac furnicile mușuroiul, ce frumos…
De-a lungul timpului am citit de mai multe ori “Regele unei țări ploioase” și, dincolo de impecabila narațiune “strict polițistă”, am fost intrigat de fiecare dată de un anumit pasaj care nu are nicio legătură directă cu conținutul. Este vorba despre o analiză comportamentală pe care o face autorul și pe care sub nicio formă nu te-ai aștepta să o descoperi în textul unui scriitor englez.
“Van der Valk medita asupra pasiunii. Acestea sunt de două feluri, se gândea el. Pasiunea nordică - despre care se crede că are un puternic substrat emoțional, dar care este puternică numai în imaginație. În această categorie intră olandezii, germanii, scandinavii, englezii, americanii. Foarte înclinați să falsifice realitatea, și să suspine înghițind melodrame; noi nu avem pasiuni, dar ni le imaginăm cu atâta intensitate, încât ne înșelăm pe noi înșine că suntem gata să facem gesturi de un măreț dramatism. Aceasta pare să fie romanța noastră, care nu este deloc romanță ci romanțiozitate. Vărsăm găleți de lacrimi asupra pasiunii, deși aceasta ne lipsește; ne sinucidem dacă este cazul, dar numai din pură milă egoistă. Gesturile noastre mari sunt insuflate de un simț teatral lacrimogen și extravagant.
Adevărata pasiune o au popoarele latine. Citiți ziarele din Franța sau din Italia. Crima pasională este la ordinea zilei, pe când în nordul Europei se întâmplă extrem de rar. Fapta unuia care își împușcă soția pare rezonabilă și, din punct de vedere psihologic, probabilă. Un bărbat cu desăvârșire lipsit de imaginație, un vânzător de magazin, un comis-voiajor de îngrășăminte chimice este în stare să-și sugrume amanta care a fugit cu un comisionar; dacă intră în primul comisariat de poliție, nimeni nu se gândește să ridice din sprâncene.”
Recomand această carte cu prioritate.
https://www.bucurestifm.ro/2025/03/17...
November 10, 2022
Van der Valk se trezi. Mintea îi plutea în ceaţă; avea în gură un gust neplăcut, ca după un rachiu spaniol din cele mai ieftine. Adormise oare după ce băuse prea mult? într-o cameră supraîncălzită, fără nici o fereastră deschisă? Cam aceasta era senzaţia pe care o încerca. Avusese şi un vis
îngrozitor. Şi păturile astea – pe care le răvăşise, încurcîndu-se în ele. Urâtă şi încâlcită treabă; zvârli cu violenţă din picioare dar rămase mirat; nu se întâmplă nimic. Visa încă?
Nu, căci nu mai dormea. Piciorul însă părea că doarme. Ceva era în neregulă: porunci piciorului să zvârle. „Piciorul”, în totalitatea lui, părea să doarmă, de la coapsă pînă jos, rachiul avea un gust oribil – unde-l băuse? Sigur că dormea încă, pentru că îşi amintea anumite lucruri care se întâmplaseră în vis şi aceasta avea o legătură cu Biarritz-ul. Ha, o vacanţă la Biarritz – puţin cam scump pentru cei cu posibilităţile lui materiale.
Totuşi, bună idee – nici el şi nici Arlette nu văzuseră vreodată coasta Atlanticului. Ba nu fusese o idee bună.
Şi şunca; mâncase pâine cu şuncă. Nu Biarritz, ci ceva care în cepe cu B.
– Bayonne, Bayonne: faptul că-şi amintise îl făcu să încerce un simţământ de triumf. Şi visul său era în legătură cu războiul. Graniţa spaniolă, rîul Bidassoa. Soult trecuse peste Bidassoa, în drumul său spre nord. Soult nu era un general prea grozav, dar nici Wellington nu era mai breaz; îi trebuiseră cinci ani ca să câştige o campanie în care avea totul de partea sa. Soult se pricepea să-şi manevreze oamenii, dar nu era prea iscusit în luptă. O să-l înveţe el pe Soult cum să lupte. Gata cu visele; trezirea. Ei, mişcă un braţ! Mişcă un braţ şi mîna atinse ceva foarte nostim.
Un fel de iarbă aspră. Şi o piatră: şi sub cap simţea o piatră. Nu era în pat: se îmbătase şi adormise pe deal; în dogoarea soarelui. Putea să miroasă soarele; iarbă arsă de soare şi cimbru. Atunci îşi aminti deodată un lucru foarte important. Fusese impuşcat.
îngrozitor. Şi păturile astea – pe care le răvăşise, încurcîndu-se în ele. Urâtă şi încâlcită treabă; zvârli cu violenţă din picioare dar rămase mirat; nu se întâmplă nimic. Visa încă?
Nu, căci nu mai dormea. Piciorul însă părea că doarme. Ceva era în neregulă: porunci piciorului să zvârle. „Piciorul”, în totalitatea lui, părea să doarmă, de la coapsă pînă jos, rachiul avea un gust oribil – unde-l băuse? Sigur că dormea încă, pentru că îşi amintea anumite lucruri care se întâmplaseră în vis şi aceasta avea o legătură cu Biarritz-ul. Ha, o vacanţă la Biarritz – puţin cam scump pentru cei cu posibilităţile lui materiale.
Totuşi, bună idee – nici el şi nici Arlette nu văzuseră vreodată coasta Atlanticului. Ba nu fusese o idee bună.
Şi şunca; mâncase pâine cu şuncă. Nu Biarritz, ci ceva care în cepe cu B.
– Bayonne, Bayonne: faptul că-şi amintise îl făcu să încerce un simţământ de triumf. Şi visul său era în legătură cu războiul. Graniţa spaniolă, rîul Bidassoa. Soult trecuse peste Bidassoa, în drumul său spre nord. Soult nu era un general prea grozav, dar nici Wellington nu era mai breaz; îi trebuiseră cinci ani ca să câştige o campanie în care avea totul de partea sa. Soult se pricepea să-şi manevreze oamenii, dar nu era prea iscusit în luptă. O să-l înveţe el pe Soult cum să lupte. Gata cu visele; trezirea. Ei, mişcă un braţ! Mişcă un braţ şi mîna atinse ceva foarte nostim.
Un fel de iarbă aspră. Şi o piatră: şi sub cap simţea o piatră. Nu era în pat: se îmbătase şi adormise pe deal; în dogoarea soarelui. Putea să miroasă soarele; iarbă arsă de soare şi cimbru. Atunci îşi aminti deodată un lucru foarte important. Fusese impuşcat.
December 23, 2024
I lived in Innsbruck in 1968-9 and enjoyed the sights and smells of Freeling's Innsbruck, written a few years before my stay. He describes smells not just there but in France and elsewhere. I've been everywhere Van der Valk travels and felt like I was traveling through these places again with Freeling's keen eye and nose for detail. I like his broad knowledge of his native tongue, sending me to the dictionary and startling me with fresh, evocative similes.
So far I've said nothing about the story or the mystery -- it won the Edgar Award, given by the Mystery Writers of America. Both story and mystery are minimal, not close to the puzzlement or tension normally found in such books. But I didn't care and read on enthusiastically because he dropped me, with all senses intact, into a Europe I traversed as a college student decades ago. If you're of my vintage and background, you may quite enjoy the book. If you want a Maigret style mystery, this is hardly it. The mystery I found was wandering through the book wondering when a mystery, other than "What's going on?" would rear its head.
I also appreciated how much ink he spills, sketching and then scratching beneath the surface the personas of his characters. I've just read a Ken Follett doorstop, Winter of the World, and he writes nary a world about the interior life of characters. Nor does he make philosophical or poetic ruminations, the way Freeling does. I read this book on a lazy Sunday and will remember it as the finest of companions. For memories of Europe, through nose and palate, for new words and clever twists of language, for insights regarding our fellow humans, for swathes of Habsburg and Napoleonic history, but not for suspense or mystery. More than a satisfactory trade-off.
So far I've said nothing about the story or the mystery -- it won the Edgar Award, given by the Mystery Writers of America. Both story and mystery are minimal, not close to the puzzlement or tension normally found in such books. But I didn't care and read on enthusiastically because he dropped me, with all senses intact, into a Europe I traversed as a college student decades ago. If you're of my vintage and background, you may quite enjoy the book. If you want a Maigret style mystery, this is hardly it. The mystery I found was wandering through the book wondering when a mystery, other than "What's going on?" would rear its head.
I also appreciated how much ink he spills, sketching and then scratching beneath the surface the personas of his characters. I've just read a Ken Follett doorstop, Winter of the World, and he writes nary a world about the interior life of characters. Nor does he make philosophical or poetic ruminations, the way Freeling does. I read this book on a lazy Sunday and will remember it as the finest of companions. For memories of Europe, through nose and palate, for new words and clever twists of language, for insights regarding our fellow humans, for swathes of Habsburg and Napoleonic history, but not for suspense or mystery. More than a satisfactory trade-off.
July 2, 2018
Goodreads ei tunne lukemaani laitosta; löysin divarista kolme vuotta alkuteoksen ilmestymisen jälkeen, 1969 julkaistun suomennoksen joka on ilmestynyt Sapo-sarjassa luonnehdinnan alla ”modernia jännitystä”. Kirjassa ei itse asiassa ole lainkaan jännitystä, päähenkilö, rikostarkastaja van der Valk jäljittää kadonnutta miljonääriä ja teinikaunotarta Euroopan hiihtokeskuksissa. Kirjassa on oma viehätyksensä, on mukava lukea kuvauksia hiihtokeskuksista ja esimerkiksi selostusta syöksyhiihdon ideasta. Kirjan nimi on Baudelaire-sitaatti, ja kerrontaan nivotaan jatkuvasti viittauksia korkeakulttuurin. Van der Valk on erittäin sivistynyt ja tunnistaa vaivattomasti paitsi kirjallisuussitaatit, myös rikkaiden asiakkaidensa taideteokset ja arvohuonekalut. Tykkään tuollaisesta snobbailusta, mutta on myönnettävä että putosin kärryiltä moneen kertaan. No, onneksi on Google niin vähemmänkin sivistynyt lukija pääsee leikkiin mukaan. Mitenkään Maigretin rinnalle ei tämä rikostarkastaja yllä,vaikka takakansi niin vihjaileekin, mutta ihan mukavaa luettavaa joka tapauksessa. 1960-luvulla ei vielä ollut tekstinkäsittelyohjelma, niin tämänkin kirjan sivumäärä jää alle kahteensataan, mikä on useimmille dekkarille mielestäni oikein sopiva pituus.
February 8, 2020
Van der Valk is sent by someone high up the government food chain to the find out the whereabouts of a very wealthy and disappeared sportsman/businessman. No crime is suspected – he is neither a perpetrator nor a victim - but bankers associated with his far-flung enterprises would like to locate him, and perhaps his wife would as well. Though there is no clear indication of that. Lavish expense allowance, utmost discretion required, no confrontation, just report back.
Van der Valk quickly learns that the fellow has been traveling the Alpine ski circuit in the company of a scrumptious German teenager picked up on the way. He is clever and wealthy enough to evade pursuit for several days. The romance ends in a tragic murder/suicide ala Meyerling – dramatic but not terribly convincing. Although this book won an Edgar for best crime novel in 1965, it is not one of my favorites in the series. All the characters seem a bit flat. While there are interesting literary references, the usual astute social observations are very much in the background. Still, a lesser Freeling is better than none at all.
Van der Valk quickly learns that the fellow has been traveling the Alpine ski circuit in the company of a scrumptious German teenager picked up on the way. He is clever and wealthy enough to evade pursuit for several days. The romance ends in a tragic murder/suicide ala Meyerling – dramatic but not terribly convincing. Although this book won an Edgar for best crime novel in 1965, it is not one of my favorites in the series. All the characters seem a bit flat. While there are interesting literary references, the usual astute social observations are very much in the background. Still, a lesser Freeling is better than none at all.
April 5, 2021
Second detective book in the Van der Valk series. Van der Valk chases a millionaire who flees his home in Holland, picks up a young woman and dodges Van der Valk around Europe. Van der Valk has been pressed into the job by his boss, answering to a wealthy businessman. Things seem shady. You will need to bone up on European history.
December 2, 2024
This book won an Edgar as Mystery book of the year when it was published. I expected better. I have read better Van der Valk books, but this one told mainly in past narrative simple did not grab my interest as others have.
May 21, 2017
straight descent !
November 12, 2018
11/12/18 Full review tk.
February 6, 2020
ELU 1969 Enigma
Regele unei tari ploioase
Regele unei tari ploioase
June 20, 2020
Liked the story thru middle part then it started to fall a bit flat; had much potential with interesting characters, exciting settings, then got convoluted
April 27, 2021
This is a 1965 book written by British author Nicolas Freeling and is the winner of the Edgar Best Novel Award in 1967. This is the 6th book in Freeling’s long running Euromystery series featuring Amsterdam police inspector Van der Valk. The book, which is both a crime story and a thriller, is very well-written and fast paced (although it slowed down a bit in the second half). The book is poetic, philosophical and poignant. The setting is in early 1960s in various cities across Europe (including cities in the Netherlands, Germany, Austria, France and Spain). The book does not read like it is written by an English author about a continental crime. Instead, it reads more like a pan-European mystery written by an European author that got translated into English. As Van der Valk moves from country to country, we can see Freeling incorporating different languages into the story without translating them to English. It does not make the reading difficult at all but instead gives the book an authentic European feel. The title of the book refers to a poem called “Spleen” written by the famous French poet Charles Baudelaire, which has the verse “I’m like the King of a rainy country, rich and impotent, young and very old...”, which encapsule the situation of one of the main characters of the book, Jean-Claude Marschal.
Spoiler Alert. The story starts out in Amsterdam. When the super-rich 42-year old millionaire Jean-Claude Marschal (the only son of the Marschal business empire and the prosperous trading firm Sopexique) disappeared, a senior executive of the firm, F. R. Canisius, went to the head of the Amsterdam police and asked that Van der Valk be sent to discreetly find where Jean-Claude has gone. Jean-Claude’s wife, Ann-Marie, is willing to assist Van der Valk although she does not seem anxious whether Jean-Claude returns or not. Van der Valk soon discovered the trail of Jean-Claude and followed him to Köln (Cologne) in Germany, where Van der Valk discovered Jean-Claude has hooked up with a sixteen-year old girl Dagmar Schwiewelbein and has ran away with her. After her parents filed a missing person report, the German police joined Van der Valk in the hunt. Van der Valk soon discovered the couple has gone to Innsbruck, a ski town in Austria where a major ski competition is happening. Ann-Marie surprising show up in Innsbruck after she heard from Canisius that Van der Valk has discovered the whereabouts of Jean-Claude and he was with a new mistress. Ann-Marie tried to convince Van der Valk to stop trying to find Jean-Claude by offering him money and sex but Van der Valk refused. Despite the fact the police have closed the borders to look for Jean-Claude and Dagmar, the two escaped across the border to France and ended up in a village near Strasbaugh where Jean-Claude own a quiet farmhouse under an assumed name as a private retreat. When Van der Valk arrived, he found the two lovers have died by self-inflicted gunshot wounds as a result of a murder-suicide pact, modeled just like famous Mayerling Incident of the Hapsburg dynasty where Crown Prince Rudolf of Austria committed suicide with his mistress in 1889.
When Ann-Marie (who has a hot temper and is still in love with her husband), heard of the double suicide, she blamed Canisius for causing it and tried to kill Canisius in a carefully planned assassination plot in Biarritz, just across the border from Spain. When Van der Valk tried to stop her, she shot Van der Valk (who survived) and she then shot herself dead. It turns out what happened was Jean-Claude Marschal, like the impotent King of a rainy country in Charles Baudelaire’s poem, was caught between a rock and a hard place. His ailing father can no longer manage the business and relied on Canisius and Jean-Claude to do so. Over the years, however, the passive playboy Jean-Claude is no match for the ambitious and capable Canisius in corporate power struggle. Even though his wife Ann-Marie keep nagging and pressuring Jean-Claude to assert himself and not let Canisius encroach on his family business, he just cannot do it. Finally, when pressure became too much, Jean-Claude decided to talk away from his life (both family and business) and went to Köln, where he fell in love with Dagmar, and decided to start a new life with her. Canisius, in order to keep putting pressure on Jean-Claude to try to make him break, unleashed the police after him. Finally, with both the police and his wife on his back, Jean-Claude decided to commit suicide with his lover as a way out.
Spoiler Alert. The story starts out in Amsterdam. When the super-rich 42-year old millionaire Jean-Claude Marschal (the only son of the Marschal business empire and the prosperous trading firm Sopexique) disappeared, a senior executive of the firm, F. R. Canisius, went to the head of the Amsterdam police and asked that Van der Valk be sent to discreetly find where Jean-Claude has gone. Jean-Claude’s wife, Ann-Marie, is willing to assist Van der Valk although she does not seem anxious whether Jean-Claude returns or not. Van der Valk soon discovered the trail of Jean-Claude and followed him to Köln (Cologne) in Germany, where Van der Valk discovered Jean-Claude has hooked up with a sixteen-year old girl Dagmar Schwiewelbein and has ran away with her. After her parents filed a missing person report, the German police joined Van der Valk in the hunt. Van der Valk soon discovered the couple has gone to Innsbruck, a ski town in Austria where a major ski competition is happening. Ann-Marie surprising show up in Innsbruck after she heard from Canisius that Van der Valk has discovered the whereabouts of Jean-Claude and he was with a new mistress. Ann-Marie tried to convince Van der Valk to stop trying to find Jean-Claude by offering him money and sex but Van der Valk refused. Despite the fact the police have closed the borders to look for Jean-Claude and Dagmar, the two escaped across the border to France and ended up in a village near Strasbaugh where Jean-Claude own a quiet farmhouse under an assumed name as a private retreat. When Van der Valk arrived, he found the two lovers have died by self-inflicted gunshot wounds as a result of a murder-suicide pact, modeled just like famous Mayerling Incident of the Hapsburg dynasty where Crown Prince Rudolf of Austria committed suicide with his mistress in 1889.
When Ann-Marie (who has a hot temper and is still in love with her husband), heard of the double suicide, she blamed Canisius for causing it and tried to kill Canisius in a carefully planned assassination plot in Biarritz, just across the border from Spain. When Van der Valk tried to stop her, she shot Van der Valk (who survived) and she then shot herself dead. It turns out what happened was Jean-Claude Marschal, like the impotent King of a rainy country in Charles Baudelaire’s poem, was caught between a rock and a hard place. His ailing father can no longer manage the business and relied on Canisius and Jean-Claude to do so. Over the years, however, the passive playboy Jean-Claude is no match for the ambitious and capable Canisius in corporate power struggle. Even though his wife Ann-Marie keep nagging and pressuring Jean-Claude to assert himself and not let Canisius encroach on his family business, he just cannot do it. Finally, when pressure became too much, Jean-Claude decided to talk away from his life (both family and business) and went to Köln, where he fell in love with Dagmar, and decided to start a new life with her. Canisius, in order to keep putting pressure on Jean-Claude to try to make him break, unleashed the police after him. Finally, with both the police and his wife on his back, Jean-Claude decided to commit suicide with his lover as a way out.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 12, 2023
Good radio play
October 18, 2024
A kind of stream-of-consciousness mystery that won an Edgar Award for best mystery in 1967.
December 7, 2024
Despite oft reference to unknown persons, I quite enjoyed this story. I see it's sixth of a series. I'd say worth picking up the others.
February 15, 2025
I listened to a dramatized BBC production of this so I'm not sure if I missed anything or not but it was fine for what it was.
August 30, 2015
"Je suis comme le roi d'un pays pluvieux,
Riche, mais impuissant, jeune et pourtant très vieux, [...]"
("I am like the king of a rainy country:
Rich - and impotent: young - and very old",
(Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du Mal)
Another Freeling disappointment, luckily not a major one this time. "The King of the Rainy Country" (1966), the sixth entry in the celebrated Van der Valk series is quite a famous book: it won the prestigious Edgar Award for the Best Novel of 1967 from the Mystery Writers of America, probably the most important award in the mystery and crime genre. Yet - although this is a very good novel indeed - I think it is nowhere as good as several other works by the author. So let me assume that the MWA was correcting their error of having overlooked Gun Before Butter in 1963.
The novel begins with quite a bang: inspector Van del Valk is shot and almost killed on the historical battlefield of Bidassoa, close to the French-Spanish border. The rest of the book recounts the events that have led to this shooting. The owner of an important Dutch company, a multi-multi-millionaire, has suddenly disappeared without a trace and the inspector is asked by his superior to use tact and discretion in finding the missing man. The search takes Van der Valk to Köln, Innsbruck, Chamonix, a village in the Vosges (probably the same where Mr. Freeling himself settled with his family in the 1970s), and finally to Biarritz. With its interesting plot the book is unputdownable and in places it reads like a great travel guide: in particular the vivid and detailed account of skiing competition in the Alps is memorable.
This is a very well written book, with passages of delightful "freelingesque" quirky prose abound. The atmosphere of multinational Europe is captured with unparalleled mastery. Yet the author's frequent and explicit references to Charles Baudelaire's poem "Spleen" (whose first verses are quoted in the epigraph) and to the famous Mayerling incident of 1889 feel forced, and the novel does not have that genre-transcending quality that would raise it to the level of a literary masterpiece. "The King" would be a four-and-a-quarter-star novel for most other mystery writers - not for Mr. Freeling, though; he has demonstrated that he can write even better!
(By the way, notice how much the language changed in 50 years: "Jean-Claude was gay and happy," writes Mr. Freeling, and he is not referring to sexual orientation.)
Three and three quarter stars.
Riche, mais impuissant, jeune et pourtant très vieux, [...]"
("I am like the king of a rainy country:
Rich - and impotent: young - and very old",
(Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du Mal)
Another Freeling disappointment, luckily not a major one this time. "The King of the Rainy Country" (1966), the sixth entry in the celebrated Van der Valk series is quite a famous book: it won the prestigious Edgar Award for the Best Novel of 1967 from the Mystery Writers of America, probably the most important award in the mystery and crime genre. Yet - although this is a very good novel indeed - I think it is nowhere as good as several other works by the author. So let me assume that the MWA was correcting their error of having overlooked Gun Before Butter in 1963.
The novel begins with quite a bang: inspector Van del Valk is shot and almost killed on the historical battlefield of Bidassoa, close to the French-Spanish border. The rest of the book recounts the events that have led to this shooting. The owner of an important Dutch company, a multi-multi-millionaire, has suddenly disappeared without a trace and the inspector is asked by his superior to use tact and discretion in finding the missing man. The search takes Van der Valk to Köln, Innsbruck, Chamonix, a village in the Vosges (probably the same where Mr. Freeling himself settled with his family in the 1970s), and finally to Biarritz. With its interesting plot the book is unputdownable and in places it reads like a great travel guide: in particular the vivid and detailed account of skiing competition in the Alps is memorable.
This is a very well written book, with passages of delightful "freelingesque" quirky prose abound. The atmosphere of multinational Europe is captured with unparalleled mastery. Yet the author's frequent and explicit references to Charles Baudelaire's poem "Spleen" (whose first verses are quoted in the epigraph) and to the famous Mayerling incident of 1889 feel forced, and the novel does not have that genre-transcending quality that would raise it to the level of a literary masterpiece. "The King" would be a four-and-a-quarter-star novel for most other mystery writers - not for Mr. Freeling, though; he has demonstrated that he can write even better!
(By the way, notice how much the language changed in 50 years: "Jean-Claude was gay and happy," writes Mr. Freeling, and he is not referring to sexual orientation.)
Three and three quarter stars.
March 29, 2008
Nicolas Freeling's THE KING OF A RAINY COUNTRY was the 1967 Edgar winner for Best Novel. I was already reading a lot of mysteries in 1966, and Freeling's name was familiar to me from library shelves, but for some reason I'd never picked one up. In this case, I think I will need to read at least one more of the Van der Valk books before I can figure out exactly what I think! So far, 6 out of 14 Edgar winners have been series books, if you count Ed Lacy's ROOM TO SWING (he wrote a sequel many years later, but at the time it wasn't a series). I'm also not sure whether THE QUILLER MEMORANDUM was the first of the Quiller series. Anyway, the standard for a series book becoming a Best Novel winner seems to require something special. THE KING OF A RAINY COUNTRY -- well, a title out of Baudelaire should tip you off right away that this is going to be, as my spouse said, "weird." It's full of philosophy and philosophizing (and stereotyping of the various European nationalities). For me, it was a bit too talky, but still good enough to make me want to check out another of the Van der Valk books to compare with it. For what it's worth, I've never been a big Maigret fan either, and some of the jacket blurbs compared Van der Valk to Maigret.
August 31, 2010
This book won the Edgar, so I figured it was a safe bet for my introduction to Freling. Freling's detective upbraids himself with being a dull methodical Dutchman -- the novel read as something that would feature a dull methodical Dutchman. There was some interesting material in the last few pages, but it was not enough.
August 18, 2016
Unique (to me) composition--no chapters and shifting from first person to third very smoothly. It's humbling to realize that so many of the literary and historical references were mysteries to me. The plotting was murkily confusing and necessitated reading on to discover the "why". A cut above my usual mystery reading!
June 2, 2011
Not the greatest mystery I've read, but it was interesting enough to keep me going. Ultimately I liked it. I don't know if I'll read any other van der Valk mysteries, but I'm glad I read this one.
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