Andrea Camilleri Commissario Montalbano 27 ... -

★★★★☆ (4/5)

The final pages—featuring a last phone call, a last meal, and a last walk on the beach—are devastatingly beautiful. Camilleri lets Montalbano fade out not with a bang, but with a quiet, knowing sigh.

Note: The 27th novel is titled Riccardino . Camilleri wrote it years before his death in 2019, with strict instructions that it be published posthumously. As such, it functions as the true, final episode of the series. Andrea Camilleri Commissario Montalbano 27 ...

A man in a clown mask is shot dead outside a church. The victim is named Riccardino. The killer immediately surrenders, claiming self-defense. But nothing is that simple in Vigàta. The case unravels into a labyrinth of family secrets, hired guns, and a mysterious foreign countess. Meanwhile, Montalbano feels the weight of every one of his years.

Riccardino is not the best Montalbano novel ( The Shape of Water or The Terracotta Dog hold that crown). But it is the most honest one. Camilleri refuses to give us a tidy, heroic send-off. Instead, he gives us a tired, brilliant, stubborn man doing his job one last time, fully aware that justice is a messy, often futile pursuit. Camilleri wrote it years before his death in

Opening Riccardino feels like visiting an old, dear friend for the last time. The familiar scents of arancini and sea salt, the squabbling with Catarella over the phone, the ritualistic lunch at Enzo’s trattoria—it’s all there. But from the very first page, Camilleri breaks the fourth wall in a way he never has before. Montalbano directly addresses the author , complaining about the plot, the characters, and even his own aging body.

This meta-fictional twist is jarring at first, but it becomes the novel’s secret weapon. It’s Camilleri’s wry, loving farewell. He knows we know this is the end, and he uses the artificiality of the detective genre to explore the very real fatigue of a man who has seen too much crime. The victim is named Riccardino

Addio, Salvo. It was a pleasure.