The Dance of the Seagull, by Andrea Camilleri, translated by Stephen Sartarelli – review

In the first six pages of Andrea Camilleri’s new novel, Inspector Montalbano drinks at least four cups of coffee and watches a seagull dance to its death in front of his verandah. Its beak pointing at the sky, the bird spins in its last agony. Afterwards, the inspector places its corpse in a plastic bag, swims into the sea and commits it to the deep.

It’s an arresting, eccentric episode which, together with the coffee, gives a glimpse of what lies in store. Montalbano is never far removed from his next cup of coffee. He’s also strangely sensitive, alert to the nuances of life and death; his imagination often tips him into nightmare, which is not always convenient, particularly at the scene of a crime. The seagull’s death turns out to have a macabre if metaphorical connection with a brutal murder, one of several in his latest case.

Camilleri’s Montalbano series has already shown remarkable stamina — this novel is the 15th to be translated into English, and at least five more are waiting in the wings, as well as four collections of short stories. Montalbano has also made the leap to television, and several subtitled series have been shown on BBC4.

Part of the appeal of the series is its traditional genre format. Readers know, broadly speaking, exactly what to expect with a new book. The middle-aged Montalbano dominates every novel. He’s supported by a cast of recurring characters — including loyal, if quirky subordinates, a domineering boss, and Livia, the strangely patient girlfriend to whom he never quite commits himself.

Then there’s the setting — Sicily, of course, where Montalbano is the head of the police department in the fictional town of Vigata, but also the wider canvas of contemporary Italy.