How the Light Gets In (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #9)

by Louise Penny

Ring the bells that still can ring, Forget your perfect offering, There’s a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.

“Corruption and brutality are modeled and expected and rewarded. It becomes normal. And anyone who stands up to it, who tells them it’s wrong, is beaten down. Or worse.”

He wondered, in a moment that startled him, whether that’s what this little village was. The end of the road? And, like most ends, not an end at all.

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No learning curve at all, marveled Gamache. But he realized Henri already knew all he’d ever need. He knew he was loved. And he knew how to love.

the Chief knew something about fear. Not terror. Not panic. But he knew what it was to be afraid.

He knew, as a man used to fear, the great danger of letting it take control. It distorted reality. Consumed reality. Fear created its own reality.

He needed to keep his fear at bay. A little was good. Kept him sharp. But fear, unchecked, became terror and terror grew into panic and panic created chaos. And then all hell broke loose.

But, like peace, comfort didn’t come from hiding away or running away. Comfort first demanded courage.

when someone is murdered we look for the extraordinary, though, to be honest, we often find the killer hiding in the banal.”

Our lives are like a house. Some people are allowed on the lawn, some onto the porch, some get into the vestibule or kitchen. The better friends are invited deeper into our home, into our living room.”

It was one of those moments a homicide investigator looked for. The tiny conflict. Between what was said and what was done. Between the tone and the words.

“But some secrets are heavier than others,” said the old poet. “Some stagger us, slow us. And instead of taking them to the grave, the grave comes to us.”

He was all things. To all people. He was everything and he was nothing.

the trial proved that while corruption exists, so does justice.

she could see the kindness in his eyes. A quality some had mistaken, to their regret, for weakness. But there wasn’t just kindness there. Armand Gamache had the personality of a sniper. He watched, and waited, and took careful aim. He almost never shot, metaphorically or literally, but when he did, he almost never missed.

In the end, most people come home.” Gamache thought it was probably true.

Armand Gamache had always held unfashionable beliefs. He believed that light would banish the shadows. That kindness was more powerful than cruelty, and that goodness existed, even in the most desperate places. He believed that evil had its limits.

Maybe the darkness sometimes won. Maybe evil had no limits.

“Old sins have long shadows,”

“We’ve found the shadow.” Gamache turned back to the screen. “Now it’s time to find the sin.”

Bravado was one thing, but silence and stillness were the first rules of hiding.

And that’s the problem with a gilded life. Nothing inside can thrive. Eventually what was once beautiful rots.”

Both were clever, dynamic, ambitious and they triggered something in the other. So that over time, clever became cunning. Dynamic became obsessed. Ambitious became ruthless. It was as though, in that fateful meeting, something had changed in each man’s DNA. Up until then, both had been driven, but ultimately decent. There was a limit to how far they were willing to go.

the consequences of failing to choose companions wisely. One slightly immoral person was a problem. Two together was a catastrophe. All it took was a fateful meeting. A person who told you your meanest desires, your basest thoughts, weren’t so bad. In fact, he shared them. Then the unthinkable was thought. And planned for. And put into action.

“She took the long way home,” said Ruth. “Some do, you know. They seem lost. Sometimes they might even head off in the wrong direction. Lots of people give up, say they’re gone forever, but I don’t believe that. Some make it home, eventually.”