Leaving Three Pines

 

I "left" Three Pines, Canada on the 30th of December. It's a place where I know Ruth the poet, Rosa the Duck, Myrna the bookstore owner, the gay men who operate the bistro serving croissants and café au lait in bowls.

It is there, in that mythical village between Montreal and the Vermont border Chief Inspector Armand Gamanche gathers strength to fight crime bolstered by his love for his wife Reine-Marie, his children and grandchildren.

The novel series is by Canadian writer Louise Penny. With each book, I feel as if I'm in the village. I even can change seasons from the heat of summer to the snows of a Canadian winter from my reading corner. And a fall day in Three Pines helps my yearning for the reds and yellow of a New England autumn.

Her last book, Black Wolf, published 2025 was written prior to Trump taking office, but somehow anticipates some of the horrors. As she says, "I thought my leaning on the plot point would be unbelievable, but it turns out it is all too believable."

Sometimes she ventures out of Three Pines more than I would like, but as the author of a mystery series I understand when she says, "Some readers want me to set each book totally in Three Pines. To have the villagers front and center and in many they are. But that is not always possible. I made the decision early on that for the longevity of the series, for its credibility, and my own creative health, I needed to set every few books away from the village."

"I do understand the desire to live in Three Pines. I share it. I created the village as a place of refuge. Where we would find companionship and comfort and acceptance. And safety."

I do have my own "real" Three Pines while I'm waiting for Penny to write and publish the next book, Argelès-sur-mer, France is where I can walk down the street, greet my neighbors of many different nationalities and classes, including Catalan and French, even if they greet my pup Sherlock, before they greet me. I have the smell of baking bread from the boulangerie or chicken roasting from the boucherie. I can buy cherries from the growers nearby and get honey from the man who owns the hives.

Rick and I take turns cooking and often when we chose a restaurant in place of cooking, the staff will ask, "Whose day was it to cook?" Restaurant L'Aurea B always has a plate of meat for Sherlock. We are brought our beverages without ordering. They know.

I am blessed to occupy both the fictional village and the one with real stone made into homes 400 years ago or more. To know more about the past, I need to ask Jean-Marc, the village historian and question him about the 14th century church at the end of our street, why small stones are in the walls, or why they moved the cemetery. 

I am thrilled to open the door to find one of the mamies (old women of the village who've been friends from childhood and lived a lifetime together). She gave me a box of chocolates. We do a very unFrench hug and she melts into it. That was Three Pine moment not on paper, but on another continent.

I feel lucky to have both.