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Francis Malka

Mr Chaoss Gardener Cover-1

A dark scientific thriller

Mr. Chaos's Gardener

In this psychological thriller, set in a quiet village forgotten by time, two brilliant men set out to master the art of dying. One, a reclusive immunologist named Mr. Chaos; the other, a young gardener with a genius for creation. Together, they perfect a science that is part botany, part genetics, and part miracle.

Years later, a relentless detective begins to investigate a string of cold-case disappearances, and the gardener is summoned for questioning. What follows is a mesmerizing testimony—a story of genius, compassion, and breathtaking hubris. It is a tale that challenges the very nature of truth, memory, and the strange, fertile ground that lies between euthanasia and empathy.

As the detective listens to this brilliant, unreliable narrator, he must decide if he is merely discovering a series of strange experiments, solving a crime, or falling victim to a master of deception.
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Mr. Chaos's Gardener is a wicked funny quick read, I like how the whole mystery is played out and the chilling ending makes me laugh because the cleverness of it all really can bring a wicked smile to your face. Although I'm not sure if the nameless narrator is reliable or not, because throughout the story he makes it sound like he's the innocent one, but I don't quite believe him.

 

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Mizuki

goodreads | 15 September 2014

It was unexpected and different from any other book I've read so far. I liked it. The setting became grimmer and the events escalated pretty fast, so it made it hard for me to stop reading. The plot twist was definitely surprising and left me in shock for a while.

 

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AceOfNoTrade

goodreads | 21 July 2014

I read this book for school, and I thought it a pleasant read. The story is definitely what you'd consider odd, and yet, it still has a little bit of charm to it.

 

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Godess of Geese

goodreads | 1 July 2020

Awards

France-Québec

Prix littéraire France-Québec

Finalist for Prix du jury 2007

Archambeault

Grand Prix littéraire Archambault

Finalist in 2007

Interrogation lamp

You think you're ready for this? You aren't. For years, I’ve watched you watch me. You were the shadow across the street, the other diner in the corner booth, the car in my rearview mirror. How many times have you pictured this moment? Me, in this chair. You, the master interrogator. You probably dreamed I would break, weep, and stumble into your clumsy traps.

Residence before repairs

The road ended at a stone wall, and beyond it, on a hill commanding the landscape, sat the house. It wasn't a building; it was a monument, two centuries of secrets sleeping in the sun.

The illusion of grandeur dissolved as we drew closer. The neglect was palpable. The vine was a web holding crumbling mortar in place. The windows resembled vacant eyes, the roof a gapped grin, the paint peeling skin. A cold dread, mingled with a strange thrill, washed over me. This was a place that had been left to die.

Park bench

The answer became clear when my foot struck something hard beneath a thick carpet of ferns. I knelt and pushed the fronds aside, my hand meeting the cold, flaking iron of a park bench. The young trees were growing in what was once a manicured lawn, shaded by a few majestic specimens. I was standing in the ghost of a once-magnificent garden.

Alambic

I placed the chopped flower parts in the steam flow of the alembic’s boiler. Once fully charged with floral fragrance, the steam made its way up into the coil, condensed to its liquid phase. I watched the fragrant vapor snake through the condensing coil, waiting for the slow, precious drip of liquid at the other end. I was a medieval alchemist attempting to transmute base matter into gold.

Enfleurage

This process involved capturing the fragrance by exposing the blossoms to animal fat. I coated large panes of glass with a thin layer of fat and laid vast quantities of privet flowers upon them. The fat, like a silent predator, leeches the fragrance from the petals, molecule by molecule. It is a slow, cold violation.

Van

After repairing the worst of the rust, I painted the back compartment a calming blue and the cabin white. On both sides, I carefully lettered my new trademark in a cursive script:

 Perfumes for the Soul - Landscaping

I loaded shovels, spades, rakes, bags of soil and seeds into the back of the van. But I was not ready to leave just yet. After all, I was not simply going to plant flowers.