Agatha Christie in publication order #7: The Murder of Roger Ackroyd

First published: 1926. Christie's seventh book, sixth novel, and fourth (including the short story collection Poirot Investigates) to feature the little egg-shaped-headed one. 

Title: Another does-what-it-says-on-the-tin. There's a bloke called Roger Ackroyd and he does indeed get murdered. 

Probably the first of the “big name” books - the ones most people have heard of, and the first to really mess with the established rules of the murder mystery. It also represents a setting which many people associate with Christie: no international jewel thieves or shadowy world-taker-overers here, just a murder or two in a country village - King's Abbot - where the inhabitants' "hobbies and recreations can be summed up in the one word: gossip". And it features the already-popular Poirot, though no Hastings to provide dim-witted sidekickery, the Hastings/Watson role here being taken by local GP Dr Sheppard, who narrates the story.

Plot: Poirot has retired to King’s Abbot, supposedly, in order to grow vegetable marrows (we know that's not going to last) and Hastings has got married and popped off to "the Argentine". Poirot's keeping quiet about his former profession and is generally presumed locally to have been a hairdresser named Mr Porrott. Unfortunately for his retirement plans, two deaths in rapid succession, of which the second - Ackroyd's - is most definitely murder, require him to dust off the little grey cells, leave the vegetable marrows to their own devices and annoy the local police (including the "weaselly" Inspector Raglan) by getting stuck into the investigation. 

I love Christie's character descriptions. They may lack a certain depth, but they really give you a lasting impression of the person. Ackroyd's housekeeper, Miss Russell, is

"a tall woman, handsome but forbidding in appearance. She has a stern eye, and lips that shut tightly, and I feel that if I were an under housemaid or a kitchenmaid I should run for my life whenever I heard her coming."

 

Sheppard's sister Caroline is one of those very Christie-esque spinsters who knows nearly everything about everyone without needing to leave the house, a type later to resurface more famously, and with more finely honed detection skills, as Miss Marple.

"The motto of the mongoose family, so Mr Kipling tells us, is 'Go and find out'. If Caroline ever adopts a crest, I should certainly suggest a mongoose rampant. One might omit the first part of the motto. Caroline can do any amount of finding out by sitting placidly at home."

Caroline also gets some great lines. 

'"Never worry about what you say to a man," [said Caroline]. "They're so conceited that they never believe you mean it if it's unflattering."'

 I mean, she's not completely wrong.

Poirot himself is introduced as follows, after hurling a vegetable marrow over the wall into his neighbour's garden:

"An egg-shaped head, partially covered with suspiciously black hair, two immense moustaches, and a pair of watchful eyes. It was our mysterious neighbour, Mr Porrott."

 

Acceptable in the 20s? A passing reference to "Semitic" moneylenders and a big-game hunter's mention of natives and their tom-toms, but I think that's about it. 

Verdict 

Roger Ackroyd was once voted the best crime novel ever by the Crime Writers' Association - quite an accolade. It certainly has a claim to be one of the most influential. When you read the story with knowledge of the solution, the clues and red herrings seem obvious, but it's so beautifully done that I doubt many first-time readers would spot it, and while the major twist has certainly been done since, it was undoubtedly ground-breaking at the time and was apparently greeted with quite an outcry. Complaints of Christie not playing fair with the reader are, however, unjustified. She doesn't so much break as reinvent the rules, and there's nothing wrong with that.

A classic Christie concoction of murder, blackmail, secrets and lies, a houseful of suspects and more red herrings than you can shake a stick at. Beautifully constructed and essential reading for Christie aficionados and casual fans alike.

Next up: The Big Four. Can't say I'm overly enthused about this one, but I'm keeping an open mind.

The Golden Rule by Amanda Craig: Review

I've read two of Amanda Craig's books before - both a long time ago, and both still on my bookshelves. I liked them very much, but for some reason have never read any others till now. (There are so many books in the world.)

I didn't know anything about The Golden Rule when I started, and that's probably the best way. Many reviewers - and Amanda herself, in her afterword - have noted how the story draws on both Strangers on a Train and Beauty and the Beast. It really does have the feel of a modern fairytale… and if you have to suspend disbelief at times, that's fine in a fairytale.

At its core is the harm people can do to each other - often, though not always, men to women. Hannah at the beginning, having married young and become a mother to Maisy, is the definition of trapped. The love her husband Jake once felt for her has turned to open loathing and contempt - he verbally and physically assaults her and after leaving to be with his lover, uses money (of which he has plenty and she none) as a weapon. He's about as hateful, and as hate-full, as it's possible to imagine, and I wanted nothing more than to see him get his comeuppance. Craig writes brilliantly about the reality of poverty and the inability of those who've never experienced it to see or conceive of it. (One character - a relative of the privileged Jake - when asked what the minimum wage is, thinks it's £80,000 a year.) 

Nevertheless, as trapped as Hannah is and as little reason as she has to think well of men (her previous experience as a graduate trainee in an advertising agency is a catalogue of vile sexism, alarmingly based on the author's own experiences), it's hard to swallow that she accepts the "strangers on a train" pact to kill each other's husbands. But you just have to go with it. Hannah's travelling home to Cornwall by train to see her dying mother when she meets Jinni, and the two women share their experiences of abusive marriages. But of course, not all is as it seems, and Hannah's experiences in Cornwall - and a house called Endpoint - will turn many things around. (The writing about Cornwall, where I've never been, is marvellous.)

Reading and the love of books is another major theme, recognised here as the addiction it is for some of us. "When she found a book she liked, she sank into it as if into another world. Voices, music, pneumatic drills all became inaudible; she was the kind of child who would go off in break times not to play or talk but to read." (Relatable.) I also loved: "In her imagination she was a sister to Elizabeth Bennet, Dorothea Brooke and Jane Eyre, and this is only a small step to falling in love with the most arrogant man who happens to be around." 

There's also, however, some interesting and thought-provoking stuff about video gaming as an art form.

There are some great lines here. Jake and his friends are described as being born with silver spoons "not so much in their mouths as up their noses." Hannah's life is described thus: "Ever since Maisy had been born, Hannah had felt herself become two people: the good mother who organised everything, and the woman silently screaming and raking her nails down the walls." And the line: "'You can do this,' she said, and kissed him, because she thought he was about to die" is pure fairytale.

A sweeping, satisfying read with a powerful message.

He Started It by Samantha Downing: Review

Beth, her siblings Eddie and Portia, along with the spouses of two of them, set off on a road trip across the USA to scatter their grandfather’s ashes in the desert according to the terms of his will. There’s a big payout at the end, if they follow the rules.

This isn’t the first time they’ve made this trip, though. Twenty years earlier their grandfather took the children (the youngest, Portia, then just six) on the same journey, and safe to say, it wasn’t necessarily filled with happy memories. As the siblings retrace their steps, visiting a series of weird tourist attractions along the way (all of which really exist), it becomes apparent that this is far from a normal situation and far from a normal family. (Whatever one of those may be.)

Beth is the narrator, and she’s not necessarily unreliable, but she certainly doesn’t tell you everything. And what she does tell you is frequently slightly weird and disturbing. It’s clear that none of the siblings are especially nice people, and nor was their grandpa, though the fully bizarre nature of their family background takes time to emerge.

I liked the road trip aspect - Thelma and Louise is namechecked - and it’s a bit of a geeky thing to say but I’d actually have liked a map of their route - remember how books used to have that sort of thing? Maybe at the end, though, to avoid spoilers...

Samantha Downing excels at portraying twisted and unpleasant people in a strangely matter-of-fact way - readers of My Lovely Wife will know what I mean. It’s one of those books, though, which it’s definitely best not knowing too much about before you start, because there are a lot of surprises which are best savoured unspoiled. Loved it.

Agatha Christie in publication order #6: The Secret of Chimneys

First published: 1925.

Good title? Meh.

Another “standalone” book lacking any of the usual sleuths. It does introduce the recurring character of Superintendent Battle. (Agatha seems to like dynamic-sounding nouns for the names of these characters - Race, Battle) but he’s hardly inspiring:

"a squarely built middle aged man with a face so singularly devoid of expression as to be quite remarkable."

Anyway, the story opens with a massive information dump about the history of “Herzoslovakia”, a fictional Balkan country, courtesy of two repulsive young men. (I wasn’t sure at the time if we were meant to find Jimmy and Anthony repulsive or not, but repulsive - and smug, and annoying - they most definitely were.) 

The racism in these first few pages was hard to get past, with derogatory references to “dagos” and “Hebraic financiers”.  There’s definitely a sense that only the Brits - the English, actually - are worth bothering about. Everyone else deserves contempt to a greater or lesser degree, indeed are rather less than human. It’s hard to know what to say about all this - it leaves a really nasty taste in the mouth. 

We then meet Virginia Revel, an alluring young widow who everyone’s in love with. Virginia has a nice name and I think she’s meant to be an appealing character, clever and witty and brave. She’s kind to a servant, offering to pay for a holiday for his wife to recover from an illness, but then “[cuts] short the man’s thanks with an impatient nod of the head”.  Servants in general, rather like foreigners, are patronised and disregarded. ("Hurry up Elise, there's a good girl" - Virginia to her maid.)

The plot is really a lot of nonsense about missing papers, a murder at the Chimneys country house  (nobody’s too upset, as the victim is a foreigner), the restoration of the monarchy in Herzoslovakia (democracy? who needs it?) and so on.

The tone is light hearted - it’s clearly in the genre of comedy thriller - and there are a few good lines, but I can’t honestly say I enjoyed it. I just couldn’t interest myself in the story or the characters. I can't even remember what the story was about. (It does improve a bit at the end, with - in the current parlance - a “jaw dropping twist I didn’t see coming”.) Some reviewers have referred to a comparison with P G Wodehouse, who I love, but I didn't get that at all - yes, there are a couple of funny lines and a lot of toffs, but the Wodehouse wit and charm is lacking.

While Christie was always on the conservative side (and would probably have been a Leave voter had she been alive today), we know from later work that she was capable of much greater complexity of thought than is shown here, where prejudices and assumptions go unchallenged.

I don’t think I’ve read this before (if I have, I’ve sensibly wiped it from my memory) and to be honest I kind of wish I hadn’t read it now. There’s a level of racism and snobbery on show here that far exceeds her previous books or any others I remember. Also, it's too long. Had it not been for the challenge I’ve set myself, I’m not sure I’d have finished it. I slogged through it in the interests of the challenge, and in faith of better books to come

Acceptable in the 20s?  See above.

Americans With Silly Names Watch: Hiram P. Fish, a collector of first editions.

Next up: The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. Now we're cooking with gas!

Agatha Christie in Publication Order #5: The Man in the Brown Suit

First published  1924 - Christie’s fifth book, fourth novel, and the first “standalone” story not featuring any series characters (though it does introduce the occasional character of Colonel Race). People at the time were disappointed at the lack of Poirot, already a popular figure.

Good title?

Well, it initially had me visualising David Tennant as the Tenth Doctor, which is obviously not what Christie had in mind, unless she herself had a time machine. It’s ok, as a title. Who is the man, one wonders? What has he done to deserve to be in the title? Why is his suit brown? Etc.

Plot:

Young Anne Beddingfeld’s life with her academic father - "one of England's greatest living authorities on Primitive Man" - has been less than thrilling so far, but she longs for adventure:

"I yearned for adventure, for love, for romance, and I seemed condemned to an existence of drab utility."

Indeed, Anne is a remarkably free spirit (she's not like other girls), thriving on passion and danger, both of which are in short supply in Little Hampsley. Her father's death allows Anne the opportunity to be let loose on the world, and a chance encounter on a station platform, potentially linked to a murder, soon see her aboard the Kilmorden Castle ship heading for Cape Town.

As Agatha herself had travelled to South Africa on the similarly named Kildonan Castle, we may suppose that she knows what she’s talking about here, though her journey was probably less eventful than Anne’s. The larger than life character of Sir Eustace Pedler, whose journals make up part of the narrative, is based, according to Laura Thompson's biography, on a Major Belcher, a bit of a nightmare for whom Agatha nevertheless had a sneaking fondness.

There’s some business about stolen diamonds, and a shadowy Mr Big (another one) but the details of the plot are probably less riveting than the general adventure and romance of it all, though the identity of Mr Big (confusingly codenamed "the Colonel", as there's another Colonel in the story though nobody ever really thinks it's him) may surprise you - it did me.

Speaking of which, Colonel Race ("a tall, soldierly-looking man with dark hair and a bronzed face... I put him down as one of the strong, silent men of Rhodesia") is probably the dullest of Christie’s recurring characters; indeed, of all the characters in the book, he's probably the one about whom I can least imagine a reader thinking "ooh, I hope we see him again!". Characters like Sir Eustace Pedler, Suzanne Blair and Anne herself would all be more worthy of a reappearance.

Arriving in South Africa, Anne finally feels her craving for travel and adventure is being fulfilled:

"I don't suppose that as long as I live I shall forget my first sight of Table Mountain.... It made me catch my breath and have that curious hungry pain inside that seizes one sometimes when one comes across something that's extra beautiful. I'm not very good at expressing these things, but I knew well enough that I had found, if only for a fleeting  moment, the thing that I had been looking for ever since I left Little Hampsley. Something new, something hitherto undreamed of, something that satisfied my aching hunger for romance."

"This is South Africa," I kept saying to myself industriously.... "You are seeing the world. This is the world. You are seeing it. Think of it, Anne Beddingfeld, you pudding-head. You're seeing the world." 

It's an emotion we can imagine the young Agatha herself experiencing.  

Anne Beddingfeld is an engaging character, if a little too addicted to danger (the story is a rollercoaster of kidnappings and boppings on the head and mysterious packages dropped through portholes in the middle of the night), and there's plenty of humour both in her narrative and that of Sir Eustace, who is an MP suffering from a plague of secretaries (he has three at various points).

Acceptable in the 20s?

South Africa is a remarkably white sounding place - Anne interacts little with anyone who isn't white and their existence barely registers in the story bar a few references to "natives”, who lack names or personalities. I think the only one dignified with a name is Batani, who helps look after Anne when she is incapacitated, and is referred to thus:

"Batani hovered about, counting no more than a dog might have done."

So that's nice.

A murdered woman is described as

 "the kind of woman who deserved to die. Men do all sorts of questionable things in order to get rich, but women shouldn't pretend to be in love when they aren't for ulterior motives."

I don't think they deserve to actually die for it, though, Anne. Double standards much?

Leaving aside these deeply jarring moments, it's a good yarn, firmly in the adventure-romance category - while many of Christie's books have an element of romance, it's perhaps most pronounced here and is fairly strong stuff at times:

"Damn your French frocks." [says Anne's love interest] "Do you think I want to put frocks on you? I'm a damned sight more likely to want to tear them off you."

Fruity stuff for 1924!

Next up: The Secret of Chimneys. No idea what that's about.

Agatha Christie in publication order #4: Poirot Investigates

 

First published

1924, a year after The Murder on the Links, but not necessarily set chronologically after it, since there's no mention of Hastings being in love or getting married or going to South America. All the stories had previously appeared in the magazine The Sketch, a society magazine which also included short stories and printed many by Christie.

Good title?

Does what it says on the tin

The plot(s) Eleven short stories in which Poirot, as advertised, investigates cases from a jewel robbery to an abducted Prime Minister (and most mysteriously of all, a suspiciously cheap London flat) and Hastings bumbles along in his wake, misunderstanding things and barking up the wrong tree.

The little Belgian has by now acquired a degree of celebrity in London:

"Oui, my friend, it is true - I am become the mode, the dernier cri! One says to another: 'Comment? You have lost your gold pencil-case? You must go to the little Belgian. He is too marvellous! Everyone goes!"

Not only has Poirot become a "pet society detective", his renown is such that even the British government calls him in to investigate when the Prime Minister is kidnapped. Hard to imagine that happening today. (I mean, who'd want Boris?) 

All the familiar elements are here; the gentle ridicule directed at Hastings brain power or the lack of it:

"Poirot," I said. "Am I quite demented?"

          "No, mon ami, but you are, as always, in a mental fog."

and the mystery-solving brilliance of Poirot's little grey cells. Indeed, in The Mystery of Hunter's Lodge, Poirot solves the whole thing from his sickbed, having dispatched Hastings to the scene to gather information. Other stories, though, take him further afield.

The Adventure of the Egyptian Tomb allows Agatha an early opportunity to exercise her interest in Egyptology, and also offers the enchanting spectacle of Poirot on a camel:

'He started by groans and lamentations and ended by shrieks, gesticulations and invocations to the Virgin Mary and every saint in the calendar. In the end, he descended ignominiously and finished the journey on a diminutive donkey.'

Interestingly, in a story called The Disappearance of Mr Davenheim, Christie once again foreshadows her own much-talked about "disappearance" a couple of years hence in 1926, with Poirot listing three types of disappearance, of which the second is "the much abused 'loss of memory' case - rare, but occasionally genuine". A couple of books earlier, The Secret Adversary also included such a case.

Acceptable in the 20s? Dodgy references to “Chinamen" in the first story (complete with pigtails and embroidered gowns), reference to superstitious "natives" in the Egypt one.

Verdict  Poirot Investigates is Christie's fourth published book, the third to feature Poirot and Hastings, and the first short story collection. I generally prefer her full length novels - the short story form doesn't really give space for the development of plot and character, presenting instead a puzzle to be solved. (Some people view all Christie's work like that, but those people are wrong.) 

That said, I liked the final story, The Case of the Missing Will, although it certainly fits into this "pure puzzle" category and although the story is slight and the title uninspired. In this story a young woman of intelligence and independence (Hastings, naturally, remarks that "I am not a great admirer of the so-called New Woman myself") employs Poirot to solve a conundrum regarding her uncle's will.

Worth a read, nevertheless, and I'll end with a favourite, quintessentially Poirot quote which I really need to find a way to work into my daily life.

"Strange." [Poirot murmured.] "We all have the little grey cells. And so few of us know how to use them."

Agatha Christie in publication order #3: The Murder on the Links

First published 

1923, Agatha's third novel and the second to feature Poirot and Hastings.

Good title?

Is it Murder on the Links or The Murder on the Links? Nobody seems to know. Some editions have it one way, some the other. The latter seems more prevalent, though, so I'll stick with that. A reasonable workmanlike title anyway, in the great tradition of Murder on the This, Death on the That, etc, though I'm pretty sure I didn't know what "links" were when I first read it. Heck, I hardly knew what golf was. I was young. And, in fact, the title notwithstanding, golf plays no part in this story, so if you're looking for a golf-themed mystery you are, I'm afraid, doomed to disappointment. 

Anyway, after first being unleashed on the world in The Mysterious Affair at Styles, Poirot's back! (And Hastings. Him too.) And they're living together! (Not like that.) When Poirot is summoned to the French home of a millionaire, Paul Renauld, for reasons to be explained when they get there, he and Hastings arrive to find their correspondent (drum roll)… already dead! Poirot soon locks horns with the arrogant (probably insecure) Giraud of the Sûreté, who regards him as distinctly past it and has a good line in sneers. 

‘“I know you by name, Monsieur Poirot,” he said. You cut quite a figure in the old days, didn’t you? But methods are very different now.”

“Crimes, though, are very much the same,” remarked Poirot gently.’

 Needless to say, Poirot has the last laugh.

The plot is fast-paced, complicated and probably unguessable, with clues, suspects, daggers and dead bodies strewn around all over the place. It's all very French, with a different feel about it from Styles (and even more French phrases liberally sprinkled about than usual.) This is also the one where Hastings falls in love (and where his first name, Arthur, is finally mentioned... on the very last page). We are also treated to his views on women:

“Now I am old-fashioned. A woman, I consider, should be womanly. I have no patience with the modern neurotic girl who jazzes from morning to night, smokes like a chimney, and uses language which would make a Billingsgate fishwoman blush!”

He’s later challenged on it, though:

“Your idea of a woman is someone who gets on a chair and shrieks if she sees a mouse. That’s all prehistoric.”

You definitely get the impression "Cinderella" isn't going to put up with any of his nonsense.

Americans With Silly Names Watch: Hiram P. Trapp, although he’s only mentioned and never actually appears. Extremely wealthy, naturally. 

Poirot is, as always, very much himself - I've been struck already by how consistently he is characterised from the very beginning. Here, he is described by one character as:

“A small gentleman, well dressed, very neat, very spotless, the moustache very stiff, the head of a peculiar shape, and the eyes green.”

 And as far as his philosophy on detection goes, it's expounded here as clearly as anywhere:

‘“I do not run to and fro, making journeys, and agitating myself. My work is done from within - here -” he tapped his forehead significantly.’

I don't think many people would consider The Murder on the Links to be Christie's best work - the plot is a bit too complex - but there's lots of fun to be had nevertheless. 

 

 

Agatha Christie in publication order #2: The Secret Adversary

The Secret Adversary (a snappy title, thankfully not called The Mysterious Affair of the Missing Treaty or similar) is Agatha Christie's second published novel (in 1922) and the first to feature those bright young adventurers Tommy and Tuppence. Not everyone's cup of tea, I know. They are swiftly introduced, both stony broke in the aftermath of the First World War - ex-V.A.D. Tuppence (aka Miss Prudence Cowley), the fifth daughter of an Archdeacon, desperate to avoid returning home to a world of "housework and mothers' meetings"; Tommy, a former soldier, now lacking both work and family after the death of his mother. I'm sure I must have read this before at some point, but I didn't remember it at all.

    "'Money, money, money!" [Tuppence bursts out, foreshadowing ABBA] "I think about money morning, noon and night! I dare say it's mercenary of me, but there it is!"

    "Same here," agreed Tommy with feeling.'

Relatable, for anyone who's ever experienced financial struggles.

In pursuit of the much needed cash, T&T decide to set themselves up as adventurers for hire, “no unreasonable offer refused”, possibly not a path down which most of us would choose to go, but I daresay it seemed like a good idea at the time. Sure enough, they’re soon mixed up in a frenetic plot involving secret government papers handed over for safekeeping to a mysterious American girl (Jane Finn, a name which everyone seems to regard as most peculiar, which is especially inexplicable given that one of the characters calls herself "Tuppence") during the sinking of the Lusitania.

Agatha's natural conservatism filters through, with some nonsense about "Bolshevists" fomenting red revolution in Britain ("Bolshevist gold pouring into the country" to this end, no less) and behind it all - behind literally everything in the world - a shadowy Mr Big, a mysterious master criminal of astounding power but unknown motive. The looming threats of a general strike and a Labour government hover darkly in the background as T&T set out in pursuit of the secret papers and the vanished Jane Finn.

All "good reactionary fun, if you're in the mood for that kind of thing", as Robert Barnard describes it in his book on Christie, A Talent to Deceive. 

Christie Xenophobia Watch: There are quite a few dodgy foreigners - a man described as a "Russian or a Pole" is unattractive, "fair, with a weak, unpleasant face" (and is amusingly called Boris). Germans get a poor press too, although that’s probably not surprising given the immediately post-war era. Americans, of course - the men, anyway - are rich and brash and called things like Julius P. Hersheimmer.

Curiously, given the unlikely explanation which would be offered a few years later for Agatha’s famous disappearance in 1926, a plot point here is that one character apparently suffers from amnesia...

Anyway, the plot is obviously preposterous and definitely intended as a fun romp of a thriller rather than the brilliantly plotted mysteries for which she became best known. (Agatha would return periodically to this type of story throughout her career.) That said, she keeps her secrets and misleads her readers well, and when the identity of “Mr Brown” is finally disclosed, out of all the possible suspects it wasn’t the one I’d expected. A talent to deceive, indeed - she led me right up the garden path.

T&T are widely regarded as being irritating, but I found their light-hearted, sparky dialogue fun, although as they’re apart for much of the story - both getting into separate lots of trouble - there’s less of it than there might be. And although allegedly just friends (from childhood), it will surprise no readers that they're engaged by the end of the story, set to embark on a married life which both confidently expect to be "a damned good sport!".

A story which is inevitably of its era -  a hundred years ago! - in many ways, betraying several of the attitudes one might expect. Nevertheless, Tuppence is definitely a modern young woman who brooks no nonsense, so I'll end by just leaving this here:

    '"I'll look after her, sir," said Tommy.

    "And I'll look after you," retorted Tuppence, resenting the manly assertion.'

Next up: #3 The Murder on the Links. Back to Poirot!

Agatha Christie in publication order #1: The Mysterious Affair at Styles

I've had in mind for years to do an Agatha Christie reread - I'm pretty sure I've read them all at some point (including, long ago, the Mary Westmacotts) but it's very long ago in some cases. (I suspect I read the majority as a teenager, in between P G Wodehouse and, later, Stephen King.) After finishing Laura Thompson's biography (my review here), I got the idea into my head to read them all (i.e. the novels and main short story collections) in publication order. And blether about them on my blog, because why not. So, that's the plan. I'm not sure yet if I'll incorporate the Westmacotts in order or leave them to the end.... I'll see how it goes.

There may be spoilers along the way, but I’ll try not to include any major ones.

So, on with the Great Agatha Christie Reread of 2020-??, beginning of course with The Mysterious Affair at Styles, Poirot's first outing, which hit UK bookshelves in 1921 (although it was actually written in 1916 and turned down by various publishers). Who were, no doubt, kicking themselves in retrospect. A challenge from her sister Madge, Agatha's own experience of working in a hospital pharmacy, and the arrival in Torquay of Belgian refugees provided motivation and inspiration.

The Mysterious Affair at Styles

Captain Arthur Hastings (though neither his first name nor his rank is ever referred to in this book), invalided home from the Front during World War I, has been invited to spend his convalescence at Styles, the home of Mrs Inglethorp, stepmother of his friend, John Cavendish. Also in residence are Mrs Inglethorp's dodgy new younger husband, Alfred; John's wife Mary and brother Lawrence; Mrs Inglethorp's young protegee Cynthia, who like Agatha herself did, works in a hospital dispensary; housekeeper Evie (one of those brusque manly women who seem to pop up fairly regularly in Christie's work); and various servants, including Dorcas and Annie. 

The Hastings we first meet here seems a rather arrogant so-and-so, fancying himself a detective and referring to a certain detective he met in Belgium ("a marvellous little fellow....He used to say that all good detective work was a mere matter of method. My system is based on his - though of course I have progressed rather further."), congratulating his own conversational prowess, and commenting on how an attractive young woman "would have been a beauty" if only certain flaws were remedied. 

Poirot himself, when we meet him for the first time, is very much himself, physically described as a "quaint, dandified little man" with a head "exactly the shape of an egg". I’d forgotten, though, that he arrives in Britain as a Belgian refugee, living in a house with other refugees. It's a shame that Christie never gives us Hastings and Poirot's first meeting in Belgium (I'm not sure if we ever learn more about it.) Well, I'm sure there's fanfiction.

His famous vanity, too, is quickly on display:

"The case is not clear yet - no. For it is of the most complicated. It puzzles me. Me, Hercule Poirot!"

Yet moments later we can see that his character has greater depth than merely a comically vain little man with a passion for order and method, when he displays genuine emotion in expressing his compassion for and gratitude to Mrs Inglethorp.

The dynamic between Poirot and Hastings is quickly established, with Hastings taking on the role of Poirot's Watson (we also meet for the first time Christie's Lestrade, Detective Inspector Japp). It's obvious to the reader, if not immediately to Hastings himself, that he's really a bit of a dimwit with a lack of self-awareness, albeit one with his heart in the right place. Poirot is kind enough to rarely draw attention to the fact - at least, not directly.

'"Yes, he is intelligent," [remarked Poirot, of a suspect]. "But we must be more intelligent. We must be so intelligent that he does not suspect us of being intelligent at all."

I acquiesced.

"There, mon ami, you will be of great assistance to me." 

I was pleased with the compliment. There had been times when I hardly thought that Poirot appreciated me at my true worth.' 

Not a great deal to report on Christie Xenophobia Watch - a couple of references to Dr Bauerstein being Jewish, but little is made of it. However I can't miss the opportunity to quote this, from parlourmaid Dorcas ("dear old Dorcas") on Poirot:

"A very nice gentleman he is, sir […..] I don't hold with foreigners as a rule, but from what the newspapers says I make out as how these brave Belgies isn't the ordinary run of foreigners, and certainly he's a most polite-spoken gentleman."

For a first novel, Styles seems remarkably strong, showing many of the characteristics which would go on to make Agatha Christie such a legend (and rendering it incomprehensible that it was turned down by so many publishers). Maybe it fizzles out slightly at the end, but overall it's incredibly consistent with her later work and a must-read for any Christie fans. 

Next up: #2 The Secret Adversary …. introducing Tommy and Tuppence.

Agatha Christie: A Mysterious Life by Laura Thompson (Book review)

Laura Thompson's hefty and very well-researched biography of Agatha Christie focuses largely on a psychological study of Agatha and her relationships - rather like Poirot, she is clearly interested in "the psychology of the individual". She also mounts a vigorous defence of Christie's work against those who have sought to diminish and misrepresent it (while acknowledging that it does, at times, vary in quality).

Thompson has had access to a lot of material and her book draws heavily not only on Agatha's letters, notebooks, etc but also on interviews with key people such as Agatha's daughter, Rosalind (since deceased) - as well as numerous extracts from the books themselves, most notably the strongly autobiographical Mary Westmacott novel, Unfinished Portrait. (Beware spoilers - numerous details of various plots are revealed.) She devotes a lot of time to the famous 1926 disappearance and presents an account which, while clearly fictionalised, seems plausible and accords with the facts as they are known. I've never bought into the absurd "amnesia" idea which the family firmly stuck to - far more likely that Agatha, certainly in a state of great distress about husband Archie's request for a divorce, simply took off on her own for a while, perhaps at least partly in the hope of bringing him to his senses. When she was found exactly where she had said she would be - at a Yorkshire spa - albeit under a false name (a possibility which had apparently occurred to no-one), she was deemed to have played the public for a fool and opprobrium was unleashed. (Imagine how she would have fared in these days of social media!) I agree with Laura Thompson as to the particular disapproval heaped upon women who have apparently transgressed.

Agatha's snobberies and prejudices, as they appear in her work and her life, are characterised with some justice as both products of her time and as more complex and nuanced than is often supposed, although the author lost me somewhat with a comparison to the present day "mistreatment" of Brexiteers! I also felt she harped rather too much on Agatha's weight gain and supposed loss of youthful attractiveness, with snide asides such as "...[she was] a woman of substance.... a little too much substance, by then". Archie's unfaithfulness is deemed a consequence of this.

While I didn't necessarily agree with Laura Thompson's position on everything, it's undoubtedly an interesting and insightful read and I learned a lot I hadn't known about Agatha's life (indeed I realised I really hadn't known that much).

I'm inspired, anyway to reread all the Christies in publication order (while I'm sure I've read them all at some point, it's been at least thirty years ago in some cases). I've even downloaded an app to keep track. So watch this space.

Book review: Eight Detectives by Alex Pavesi

Many years earlier, maths professor Grant McAllister published a research paper, The Permutations of Detective Fiction, which sought to give a mathematical definition of a murder mystery. It also served as the appendix to a book written by McAllister whereby his theories were distilled into seven short stories, self-published as a collection, which provide examples of the various permutations of suspects, detective and victim. 

Eight Detectives comprises those stories interspersed with conversations between Grant and Julia Hart, an editor interested in republishing the book, who has visited Grant on the Mediterranean island where he now lives in seclusion. Together, they go through the stories one by one, revealing in the process curious discrepancies which seem to refer to a “real-life” unsolved murder. Even the title of the book, The White Murders, references the case - the death of Elizabeth White - though Grant denies any knowledge.

I enjoyed reading the short stories, although some were a bit overly unpleasant at times. My favourite, like Julia’s, was Trouble on Blue Pearl Island, a faithful homage to Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None. (It’s notable that Christie’s works contain various examples of McAllister’s permutations - the murder where all the suspects did it, the detective as murderer, etc.) The eventual truth about Grant is very Christie-esque. 

I’ll admit, I was a bit relieved that the research paper referred to wasn’t appended here as well. I’m not sure I could have got through that.

I’d never have picked up on the discrepancies which Julia spots - I’m just not that careful a reader. Hats off to anyone who did.

While I enjoyed the stories, I liked the last part of the book best, where we learn more about what has really been going on, and the rug was pulled from under the reader more than once.

There’ve been a few examples lately of the detective story within a story format (Anthony Horowitz’s Magpie Murders and Moonflower Murders spring to mind) and it makes for an intriguing and juicy framework (and fun to write, I imagine). Eight Detectives is very cleverly constructed and the short story framework worked well in avoiding taking the reader too far out of the overarching narrative. I enjoyed it a lot.

Book review: Cover Your Tracks by Claire Askew

Having really enjoyed the first one, I started this under the mistaken impression that it was the second in the Helen Birch series; turns out it’s actually the third, and I’ve missed one. Seems like I missed some pretty important stuff, too.  So, that needs sorting asap.

Anyway aside from some stuff in Helen’s personal life, it didn’t affect my ability to follow the plot. When a man walks into her Edinburgh police station to report his elderly parents missing and demand the police investigate, DI Birch doesn’t initially take it too seriously - after all, Robertson Bennet admits he’s been estranged from them for many years. But it soon becomes clear that there’s far more to the story than meets the eye, and a potential link to a number of unsolved cases, as well as serious concerns about the well-being of one individual...

I loved the plot, the Edinburgh setting, and the characters of Helen and her DC Amy Kato, who both go above and beyond in their quest to uncover the truth. The story is quite hard hitting and emotional at times, and the last few pages had me in tears.

(I knew as soon as I heard one person’s name who they were - but as it was near the end and revealed a page later, it wasn’t exactly a spoiler!)

Great read, and I’m now off to catch up with the one I missed.

Book review: Moon Dog by Jane Elson

I loved the cover and description of this children's book, but I'm a bit ashamed to say that I'm not sure I'd have opted to read it if I'd known exactly what it was about, as it's very distressing and indeed heartbreaking at times - suffice to say that the dog next door isn't the only dog who needs saving in this book.

That said, it has an important message and it wouldn't be possible to adequately convey that message without going in hard at times. Nevertheless, I think if I'd read it when I was the target age, I'd have been traumatised!

The story follows Marcus and Delilah, who are opposites in some ways - most obviously in that he's incredibly tall and she's extremely tiny - but they have far more in common than that which divides them. Both are brave, caring and resourceful, both have difficulties at home, and most of all, both adore dogs and long for a dog of their own. When a new dog appears in the garden of the house next door to Marcus - who he names "Moon Dog" and who doesn't appear to be particularly well cared for by the two men who seem to come and go - the children start to uncover some unpleasant truths...

A very readable story with a powerful message.

Book review: Moonflower Murders by Anthony Horowitz

I haven’t read Magpie Murders, the first in this series, which now seems like a shocking oversight and one I intend to remedy as soon as possible, because Moonflower Murders was tremendous fun. Also, I love the cover. Just look at that cover!

Susan Ryeland, formerly working in publishing, currently running a hotel in Crete with her partner Andreas, is approached by the owners of the Branlow Hotel to investigate a murder which happened there some years earlier, where the wrong man may have been convicted... and which appears to have a bearing on the very current disappearance of their daughter, Cecily. It’s all mixed up with a detective novel  by one of Susan’s former authors, Alan Conway, now deceased. And Alan’s book, Atticus Pünd Takes the Case, appears here in its entirety.

His detective, Atticus Pünd, very much resembles a German Poirot without the moustaches, complete with mansion flat and formidable secretary, though Madeline Cain plays a bigger role than Miss Lemon ever did. (Christie - or rather, her alter ego Mary Westmacott - gets a name check within Alan Conway’s text.)

The novel-within-a-novel was tremendously engaging - the only issue for me was that by the time I’d read the entire “Alan Conway “ novel (Atticus Pünd Takes the Case) I’d almost completely forgotten what was going on with Susan’s narrative.

There’s one particular revelation at the end which I can’t believe I didn’t notice sooner... but I didn’t. I wonder if any readers did? We can’t say Horowitz didn’t play fair!

Fantastic read and I’m now off to read Magpie Murders.

Book review: Agnes Grey by Anne Brontë

I've never read Anne Brontë's books - she only wrote two, Agnes Grey and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall - but thought it was probably time I did, especially after learning how feminist they are now often considered to be. Agnes Grey is a lot shorter, and was also the first one chronologically, so I decided to start with that. It's clearly strongly autobiographical, drawing heavily on Anne's own experiences working as a governess for various families.

The first chapter is largely scene setting - Anne, I mean Agnes's father is a poor clergyman and due to difficult financial circumstances, Anne, I mean Agnes, decides to apply for a position as governess. She's quite enthusiastic about the prospect, in fact. But no sooner has she arrived at Wellwood Hall than it becomes apparent that governessing, for this family at least, is set to be considerably less fun than she'd anticipated. The children, especially eldest boy Thomas, are uncontrollable monsters; the adults both chilly and demanding, blaming Agnes for their offspring's diabolical behaviour. 

Her next job is less overtly unpleasant, though Agnes has little in common with her charges: selfish, coquettish teenager Rosalie, tomboyish Matilda and some random boys.

The story itself is fairly straightforward and down to earth, its great strength - unique at the time - being its accurate depiction of the governess's lot: "working as a hireling among strangers, despised and trampled upon by old and young".

Agnes observes - and silently condemns - the cruelties and petty snobberies of the families who employ her, contrasting sharply with the kindness she values in others, such as villager Nancy and the curate, Mr Weston. The unpleasant character of certain characters is illustrated through their cruelty to animals - Thomas seeks out birds to torture, with no objections raised by his family; Mr Hatfield kicks Nancy's cat and hits a dog with his cane. It's really all quite distressing.

I liked the way Agnes never "does herself down" - she has a realistic awareness of her own strengths, weaknesses and values, and considers herself the equal of the wealthier people around her, resenting - rightly - that she is not treated as such.

While "Agnes Grey" lacks the Gothic melodrama of Anne's sisters' better-known works, it's both enjoyable and important, sharply observed, and revealing of the social relations of the time and the very limited paths open to an intelligent, educated, yet impoverished young woman.

Book review: The Vanished Bride by Bella Ellis

The Brontë sisters (occasionally aided, not always helpfully, by Branwell) turn amateur sleuths in the first in a series by Rowan Coleman writing as “Bella Ellis” (I see what she did there).

When a young woman, wife of a local landowner, disappears - apparently murdered - amid a scene of terrifying violence, Charlotte, Emily and Anne feel compelled to become “detectors” in a bid to find out what has become of poor Elizabeth Chester. Limited as they are by their sex (nobody wants to talk of important matters to mere women) and financial resources, they nevertheless have the benefit of intelligence, determination and boundless imagination. The quest to unravel the mystery takes them in interesting and at times frightening directions.

It was an excellent read, with the distinct characters, as we know them, of the Brontë “girls” shining through, and strands of their known history woven throughout (I was drawn to look up “Miss Celia Amelia”, aka Reverend William Weightman, and he did indeed exist). Of course it would be unthinkable that disguised elements of such adventures, had they really occurred, hadn’t made their way into the Brontë sisters’ writings, and elements of the plot clearly echo, or foreshadow - whatever the right word is here - incidents in their novels.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from The Vanished Bride, but found I enjoyed it very much... a genuinely gripping plot, a very satisfying ending and some insightful observations regarding women’s lives in that era. Coleman is not the first to write about real writers turning detective (Nicola Upson’s excellent “Josephine Tey” series springs to mind), nor is she the first to write a fictionalised account of the lives of the Brontës, but she’s done a great job here of both telling a compelling story and rendering her famous protagonists sympathetic and believable.

Of course, there’s no evidence that Charlotte, Emily and Anne ever really investigated crimes in their spare time. But then - as the author points out in her epilogue - there’s also no evidence that they didn’t.