Simenon lived in a mist of rumour and legend. Of course, this was largely of his own making and he does little to correct matters in the book. Although known as something of a, to put it politely, lover of women's company, he does not go into this Paris Match side of things at all. Instead, he lets us see a bit of the inner man, or what a clever writer may be selling to us as such, and, all the criticism of him after his death notwithstanding, I for one felt that I got somewhat closer to the enigma. It was almost as if he was saying (in about 1963) that he wasn't such a bad fellow after all.