NPR recently posted the prologue of Jean-Christophe Valtat‘s Aurorarama in their “Books We Like” section alongside Jessa Crispin‘s glowing review:

[Aurorarama] entrances and delights. You could spend years picking apart the sly references and the particular myths, poems, novels and songs that inspired Valtat, or you can simply enjoy it for the experience. Valtat is making his American debut in a big way…and with his remarkable enthusiasm and bravery, it’s completely possible he’ll conquer the world.

Now, as we celebrate the official launch of the novel, we would like share another section from Valtat’s mesmerizing and sui generis tale…

CHAPTER II

The Gentlemen of the Night

The romance of the police force is thus the whole romance of man. It is based on the fact that morality is the most dark and daring of conspiracies. G. K. Chesterton, The Defendant

Since Gabriel d’Allier had discovered he could not allow himself to keep a full-time housekeeper anymore, he dined out more and more often. Not that he minded that much: he had always had a taste for market-stall and stadium food, and, as long as he could maintain a three-foot-radius bubble of empty space around him, he was perfectly happy to be among the busy crowds of his beloved city.

He was now having some shrimp from the smorgasbord at a Swedish specialties counter in the Pleasance Arcade, letting the spectacle of the food market alley paint itself on his retinas. As far as the eye could see, the mock castles and the nicely hand-crafted wooden shops extended under the iron-and-glass roof like mirrored reflections of one another, overbrimming with shiny cans, fish and seals beached on gleaming ice, muskox and reindeer carcasses hanging upside down, pyramids of shining fruits and thick groves of vegetables (Brentford seemed to be doing a great job running the greenhouse), giving to the place a kind of Lubberland atmosphere that pleasantly lulled him. It was not the rush hour yet, and the crowd of passers-by and patrons was mostly composed of Inuit and Russian maids running errands for their employers, and of a few fur-coated, black-hatted flâneurs like himself, whose interest in the generous offerings of Nature was, it seemed, directed as much toward the kissable as toward the edible.

The bubble burst as two men arrived and sat on either side of Gabriel. As he could see from the mirror running behind the counter, one was a tall, broad-shouldered swell with a blond moustache, sporting a black overcoat of the finest cut, a white silk scarf and a top hat, as if he were just out of some theatre matinee; the other, of a lesser bulk, showed a rounder, black- moustached face, and his jowls were framed by a bowler hat and a fur-lined collar. From the corner of his eye, Gabriel could make out on the enormous signet ring worn by the fair buck an emblem showing a moonlit round temple guarded by an owl and a lion, and circled by the inscription watch & ward, thereby confirming his apprehension that this was one of the Gentlemen of the Night, whose path one does not cross without good reasons or bad feelings.

“Please, sir, excuse my indiscretion,” said the tall dandy, turning toward him, “have I the honour of speaking with the Honourable Earl Gabriel Lancelot d’Allier de St-Antoine?”

Gabriel sighed ostentatiously. “You have that honour, indeed.”

“I am mightily pleased to meet you, Mr. d’Allier, a man who is preceded by such a reputation,” answered the man, with an slight inflection that hovered just below the acceptable level of irony. “Let me introduce myself: I am Sealtiel Wynne and I have the honour to serve the Council of Seven.”

Gabriel nodded, casting a wistful look at the smorgasbord, which seemed to dwindle in the distance, like some enchanted island disappearing in the fog as soon as apperceived.

“I am truly sorry to disturb you, but it happens that it is my unfortunate duty to ask a favour of you. Do you think, Mr. d’Allier, that you could follow us to a more comfortable place?”

“I suppose I could,” said Gabriel, trying to face the blue eyes towering too many inches above his own dark brown, twin- barrel look. “But would I want to?”

“Let us say that it would be very kind of you, if you did.”

“How much I regret it, that I am not reputed to perform random acts of kindness,” answered Gabriel, as coldly as he could, which was not much, for a natural distaste for all kinds of authority quickly gave him the williwaws in such circumstances. “Now, please, would you be so kind yourself as to leave a peaceful citizen to have his lunch quietly?”

“A peaceful citizen. How I love this expression, Mr. d’Allier. It sounds almost as good as ‘obedient citizen’ or ‘law-abiding citizen,’ which, I must admit, are the sweetest music to my ears. But, as an intelligent man like you certainly must know, it is, alas, not the citizen himself who decides if he is peaceful or not. Let us imagine that, in a few seconds, a loaded gun should inadvertently fall from your coat pocket. Then, much to my dismay, it would be harder for me to simply take your word for it, and I would have to consider the unpleasant notion that you are a threat to your fellow citizens.”

“Is that gun already about to fall?” asked Gabriel, turning suspicious eyes toward the reflection of the other man.

“Accidents happen quickly, by definition,” Wynne answered, with a fatalistic shrug of his shoulders. “Listen, sir. We would certainly hate to embarrass you. What I propose to you is this: my friend and I are going to walk to that place I have been talking of, and which is, by chance, not very far from here. Why don’t you follow us there from a respectable distance? We will not of course hinder you from finishing that appetizing lunch, so we can very well wait till you are done.”

“I don’t think I’m very hungry anymore. Why don’t you leave now?”

The man rose from his stool and bowed in perfect synchrony with his silent companion.

“As you wish, Mr. d’Allier. And au plaisir de vous voir.”