Even the Darkest Night: A Terra Alta Novel (A Terra Alta Investigation Book 1)

by Javier Cercas

“The Adells are like a tree that gives a lot of shade, but doesn’t let anything grow around it. They control everything.

“If you want to end up as miserable as me, don’t study.”

“Do you know why I read so much, Quesada?” “Why?” the other challenged him, high on his success. “To lose sight of this shithole, and of you, dickhead.”

“It’s a very famous novel.” “Is it good?” “That depends.” “Depends on what?” “Depends on you,” the Frenchman said. “The writer supplies half of a book, the other half comes from you.”

But most of all he thought of Javert, of Javert’s hallucinatory rectitude, of Javert’s integrity and his scorn for evil, of Javert’s sense of justice, and that Javert would never allow his mother’s murder to go unpunished.

“A man’s worth is measured by the number of enemies he has. And Paco Adell was worth a great deal, of that you can be sure.

People always complain about those in charge, and rightly so. That’s what the man in charge is for, so those who aren’t in charge can complain about him.

“The secret of efficiency,” Grau says, standing up. “Simplicity is efficient, complexity is inefficient.

that’s what civilisation consists of: learning to coexist in a reasonable way with frustration.

“I’ve been pro-independence since I was born, not like this gang of converts governing us, who’ll leave us in the lurch as soon as they can. But I’m a policeman first, and the police have to obey the law, in other words we have to do what the judges say, not what we fucking well feel like. And if the goddamn judges order me to close the polling stations, I stand and salute, I shove my pro-independence up my arse and close the polling stations, and that’s that.

“Do you know how long I’ve been on the police force?” he says. “Forty years. And do you know one thing I’ve learned in that time?” He looks up at Melchor and fixes him with an aged, somewhat sad gaze. “Look, doing justice is good. That’s why we joined the police. But good taken to extremes turns bad. That’s what I’ve learned over the years. And, also, something else. That justice is not just a matter of content. Most of all, it’s a matter of form. So if you don’t respect the forms of justice it’s the same as not respecting justice. You understand, don’t you?” Melchor doesn’t say anything. Deputy Inspector Barrera smiles tolerantly. “Well, one day you will. But remember what I’ve said, Marín, absolute justice can be the most absolute injustice.”

“The battle only left visible wounds,” she went on, as if she were no longer talking to Melchor but to herself. “The trenches, the ruins, the hills filled with shrapnel, all those things the tourists like so much. But the real wounds are the ones nobody sees. The ones people carry around in secret. Those are the ones that explain everything, but nobody talks about those ones. And, who knows, maybe it’s good that that’s the way it is.”