Every once in a while, I fall in love with a particular publisher. The first time I remember it happening was with Soft Skull Press. Then, the New York Review Books. There have been other, more fleeting crushes, of course, but when I'm fully in love with a publisher, I haunt their website, constructing long wishlists of titles. I consider how many books I'd have to buy at once to get the wholesale discount. In bookstores, I look for a certain spine dimension, color scheme, logo. Right now, I am in love with Melville House Publishing -- specifically, the Neversink collection. So when I was at the library, but NOT to check out books, as I already had one overdue and was in the middle of three more, and I turned around to see the familiar graphics of a Neversink cover design on the New Titles shelf, I knew I was doomed.

Of course I took it home with me.

I did not give myself permission to start reading it until I finished at least one of the books I was reading. Still, it was like a ticking time bomb sitting on my shelf. I have let too many library books go overdue lately. I finished 400 Years of the Telescope, and immediately replaced it (in its place in my purse) with The President. Still, chances to read it kept slipping by for one reason or another until a Friday, I finally got to dip into it during a short lunch at Zoup!

I read the rest of the book on Saturday.

I don't even know when was the last time that I got to sit down and read a whole book in one day, but it's something I've been missing. Especially over the holidays, as that was exactly the sort of thing I would do when I was young and had no kids. It was hard, at times, due to my lack of practice, to fully devote myself to the book. Through no fault of The President, which I loved, I would read a few pages and my mind would wander. One page -- "Wait, should I go check the laundry?" Three pages -- "I wonder if there are any new pins on Pinterest?" Two pages -- "Oh! Now I need to make a new cup of tea!" And so on.

I did get better at shutting out these wandering thoughts as the day wore on and this book moved closer to its conclusion. I was supremely satisfied when I reached the end, yet I find I am struggling to articulate the reasons why. Every attempt at summary seems a gross over-simplification to my mind. Though I do feel compelled to list some of the themes it touches on -- retirement, death, power, ambition, reckoning...

Suffice it to say, it is a tragedy that this book was out of print for 40 years, and I cheer Neversink for bringing it back. This book is wonderful. I plan to read it again, perhaps many times, later in life. ( )

Rating: 3.8* of five

The Publisher Says: Restored to print for the first time in more than forty years, The President was hailed by the New York Times as a “tour de force.”

At 82, the former premier lives in alert and suspicious retirement—self exile—on the Normandy coast, writing his anxiously anticipated memoirs and receiving visits from statesman and biographers. In his library is the self-condemning, handwritten confession of the premier’s former attaché, Chalamont, hidden between the pages of a sumptuously produced work of privately printed pornography—a confession that the premier himself had dictated and forced Chalamont to sign. Now the long-thwarted Chalamont has been summoned to form a new coalition in the wake of the government’s collapse. The premier alone possesses the secret of Chalamont’s guilt, of his true character—and has publicly vowed: “He’ll never be Premier as long as I’m alive... Nor when I’m dead, either.” Inspired by French Premier Georges Clemenceau, The President is a masterpiece of psychological suspense and a probing account of the decline of power.

My Review: I got a CARE package from one of my old pals from Texas, filled to the brim with Simenon works...but not the Maigret stories, to my relief (read 'em all) and delight (I've never read any of the non-Maigret books)! The President is a delicate and careful autopsy of a once-powerful man's reluctant and relieved laying down his armaments. His life always consisted of public service, unmarried and childless and grasping for the levers of power to make his isolation into welcome solitude.

Simenon's Maigret novels are, as murder mysteries must be, formulaic. Simenon's gift came from creating a rich and satisfying story from these commonly available materials. It's a bit like watching Meryl Streep in a movie: She IS the role, she can't be more than glancingly perceived as the actress who starred in any other movie. Chameleons have that talent...so do cuttlefish...yet to find the gift of remodeling one's self in our smelly, sweaty human selves amazes and delights us every time.

This 152-page tale is a welcome surprise in this era of bloated, dull series books that could and should have been short stories. In my view, the less an author says, the more s/he has to focus and deliver a high-quality experience. Simenon wrote what was necessary to illuminate the long career of the eponymous president and place it in an historical setting. The impact of the actions taken by the president become, by design but still of necessity, quiet bombshells...silent even in their death throes.

This is a book to savor, to sip and ponder the complex flavors mixed in exacting proportions. A simple story, made well, translated carefully, and presented without hype. It is a treat in a literary landscape as pillowy-soft and cloyingly sweet as today's is simply to be told that great hearts still beat faster in pursuit of desired items and outcomes. And they remain great hearts, giving their all and making no excuses. ( )

De Premier is sterk neergezet als een politicus, oud-premier, ontelbare keren minister, die de macht niet achter zich kan laten. Nog steeds blaft hij zijn personeel af, speelt hij spelletjes met wie hem komt bezoeken, verkneukelt hij zich over het een na een overlijden van de grote vijf politici die het wereldtoneel in zijn tijd domineerden. Maar ondertussen blijkt dat zijn macht nog sneller is achteruitgegaan dan de lichamelijke aftakeling. Wanneer je romans van dit kaliber leest, vraag je je af waarom Simenon niet verder kwam dan een zevenenzeventigste plaats onder de Grote Belgen.
Volledige bespreking via http://wraakvandedodo.blogspot.be/2014/12/georges-simenon-de-premier.html ( )

This was one of those rare examples of serendipity. I only bought this book because the battery on my Kindle had just died as I arrived at St Pancras Station and I couldn't face the long trek up the Northern line without something to read. Consequently I nipped into the new branch of Foyle's there and entirely by chance came across this book. And what a delight!
The book focuses on an aged, unnamed politician who is spending his retirement in a little village on the Normandy coast. Throughout his long and successful political career he had held various government offices, including several spells as Premier. Now he is gradually working his way through his unofficial memoirs, and looking back at various acquaintances from his long life.
One of his principal pleasures is listening to the radio news. (The novel was written in 1954 when was perhaps it would not have been remarkable for such a man not to have a television.) on the day when the book opens he is eager to hear whether there have been any developments in the highest offices of all - the country has been in a state of upheaval and the government has fallen. Now all the political cognoscenti are wondering whom the President might call upon to form a new coalition.
The former premier has had dealings with all of the major contenders, and the candidate who emerges as favourite was once his own private secretary. However, rather than feeling pride and joy at his protege's advancement he is thrown into rage and despair, and remembers earlier incidents when his secretary was cast in an altogether less favourable light.
He also becomes convinced that his protege will call on him for advice, and this thought becomes an obsession.
As a portrayal of the distortion of relationships that proximity to power can bring about this book is almost up there with C. P. Snow's "The Masters" (one of my all-time favourites!). Written with Simenon's customary conciseness this book was entirely engaging and gripping. A very fortuitous purchase! ( )

Augustin – on ne le désigne que par son prénom –, ancien président du Conseil, s'est retiré dans sa propriété des Ebergues, après un cuisant échec politique. Bien qu'entouré d'un personnel dévoué et vigilant qu'il tyrannise un peu, il est très isolé, sans que sa solitude l'affecte, car il met son indépendance au-dessus de tout. En dehors des moments où ses ennuis de santé et l'appréhension de la mort viennent le troubler, il revit ses souvenirs d'homme d'Etat en rédigeant ses mémoires. Sans trop se l'avouer, il souffre d'avoir perdu toute influence dans la vie politique du pays. Il entrevoit cependant une lueur d'espoir en suivant de près une crise gouvernementale que traverse la France et pour le dénouement de laquelle on cite le nom de Chalamont, son ancien chef de cabinet. N'a-t-il pas conservé des documents qu'il croit compromettants pour les politiciens du moment et, entre autres, un aveu écrit arraché à ce Chalamont après une grave trahison de celui-ci ? En effet, vingt ans plus tôt, informé de par ses fonctions d'une dévaluation imminente, devenue indispensable et préparée en secret dans l'entourage du Président, Chalamont avait divulgué l'opération à son beau-père, un important financier qui en tira un profit considérable. Mais Augustin prend conscience de son illusoire vanité, lorsqu'il voit Chalamont, qui est devenu un homme influent, accepter de former un nouveau gouvernement, négligeant ainsi avec indifférence la menace que le Président croyait faire peser sur lui. Ce choc ramène le vieillard à la réalité ; c'est sans amertume et en quelque sorte soulagé qu'il brûlera ses papiers pour attendre une mort paisible qui ne