One good reason to read Simenon is to recover Paris. It is now 75 years since Maigret made his first appearance, and, if his Paris is not yet utterly lost, you have to walk distances and search diligently to find it. The Brasserie Dauphine, for instance, rue de Harlay, which in real life was the Restaurant aux Trois Marches, is now the restaurant-salon of the Paris Bar (La Maison du Barreau). Maigret’s favourite blanquette de veau may still be simmering there, but consumption will be reserved to lawyers.
Though fond of the district Maubert-Mouffetard, in his day a poor quarter, Maigret is essentially a man of the Right Bank: of the faubourg Saint-Antoine and the Marais, a quartier de petits gens and Jewish immigrants, of artisan workshops and small, disreputable hotels. Much has changed. The Marais has been gentrified, and is now the gay quarter. Something of the atmosphere Maigret knew may still be caught, but you are more likely now to find it in Belleville and off the Boulevard Rochechouart and Boulevard Barbès, districts where your typical Parisian is no longer white.
Maigret is also at home the length of the Canal Saint-Martin, which has changed less, as indeed has the faubourg Saint-Antoine, and much of the 11e arrondissement with its little streets and impasses, and of course the Boulevard Richard Lenoir where, at No.
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