Dame Agatha Christie: An A-Z

This is my contribution to The Agatha Christie blog tour to celebrate the 120th anniversary of Agatha Christie’s birth in September, in which each participant focuses on some aspect of Agatha Christie’s life and work. As I’m reading her books and writing about them already I thought I’d concentrate more on her life. I’ve listed the books I’ve read on my Agatha Christie Reading Challenge page.

This is a mixture of quotations and Agatha’s thoughts and observations that I noted whilst reading her book An Autobiography (I’m reading the paperback version). First of all a quotation which I think sums up her attitude so well:

I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing. (An Autobiography, page 11)

Here is an A-Z of miscellaneous information relating to Agatha Christie, all found in An Autobiography, except for the letters G, X and Z. For many letters I could have chosen many different subjects, so this is really just a sketchy look at Agatha’s life. I have tried not to use the titles of her books or the characters, but there are one or two:

A is for An Autobiography. She started to write this in April 1950 when she was 60 and stopped writing it 15 years later. She didn’t include everything and there is no mention of her disappearance in 1926.  In the Epilogue she wrote:

I have remembered, I suppose, what I wanted to remember; many ridiculous things for no reason that makes sense. That is the way humans are made. (page 548)

B is for Baghdad. When Agatha first met her second husband, Max Mallowan he took her on a tour of Baghdad. She accompanied Max on many of his archaeological expeditions, staying in different places. Agatha’s house in Baghdad was an old Turkish house on the west bank of the Tigris. It was cool, with a courtyard and palm-trees coming up to the balcony rail, in front of palm-gardens and a tiny squatter’s house made out of petrol tins. (page 546-7)

C is for Crime and Criminals. Agatha was interested in reading books by people who had been in contact with criminals, especially those who had tried to help them, or ‘reform’ them. (page 452)

D is for Divorce. She wrote:

I had been brought up, of course, like everyone in my day to have a horror of divorce, and I still have it. (page 365)

E is for Earliest Memory. Agatha had  a happy childhood. Her first memory is of her 3rd birthday and having tea in the garden at Ashfield. There was  a birthday cake with sugar icing and candles and what was exciting to her was a tiny red spider that ran across the white tablecoth, which her mother told her was ‘a lucky spider, Agatha, a lucky spider for  your birthday’. (page 19)

F is for her First short story written when she was a child:

It was in the nature of a melodrama, very short, since both writing and spelling were a pain to me. It concerned the noble Lady Madge (good) and the bloody Lady Agatha (bad) and a plot that involved the inheritance of a castle. (page 55)

G is for Grave. Agatha died on 12 January 1976 at Winterbrook, her home in Wallingford. Her grave is in St Mary’s Parish Church in Cholsey, a village near Wallingford. I wrote about it last September (including photos).

H is for Houses. Agatha’s love of houses stemmed from her childhood dolls’ house. She enjoyed buying all the things to put in it – not just furniture, but all the household implements such as brushes and dustpans, and food, cutlery and glasses. She also liked playing at moving house, using a cardboard box as a furniture van.

I can see quite plainly now that I have continued to play houses ever since. I have gone over innumerable houses, bought houses, exchanged them for other houses, furnished houses, decorated houses, made structural alterations to houses. Houses! God bless houses! (page 62)

I is for Imagination and Ideas. Sometimes Agatha’s ideas just came into her head, and she jotted them down in her notebooks, which she invariably then lost. Sometimes she devised plots that teased her mind and she liked to think about and play with them before fixing the details. (pages 451-2) She liked the light-hearted thriller and the intricate detective story with an involved plot, which required a great deal of work, but was always rewarding.(page 453)

J is for Jane Marple. When Miss Marple first appeared she was about 65 -70 years old. Agatha envisaged her as ‘the sort of old lady who would have been rather like some of my grandmother’s Ealing cronies’. But she was not like Agatha’s grandmother at all – being ‘far more fussy and spinsterish‘. People suggested that Miss Marple and Poirot should meet, but Agatha dismissed that idea because she didn’t think they would enjoy it at all and wouldn’t be at home in each other’s world. In one way Miss Marple was like her grandmother – in her powers of prophecy and kindness. (pages 447 -50)

K is for Nancy Kon. Nancy and Agatha met when Madge, her sister, married James Watts, Nancy’s brother. They were friends from then on. They both liked to drink cream by the half-pint.

L is for Life. She wrote that life seemed to fall into three parts: the present, absorbing and rushing by, the future, dim and uncertain, and the past ‘the memories and realities that are the bedrock of one’s present   life…’ (page 10)

M is for Memories. She thought that:

one’s memories represent those moments, which insignificant as they may seem, nevertheless represent the inner self and oneself as most really oneself.  (page 11)

N is for Nimrud where Agatha was living when she started writing her autobiography, on an expedition with her second husband, Max Mallowan, who was leading the British School of Archaeology in Iraq team’s excavations of the ancient city. They lived in the Expedition House, built of mud-brick. She wrote in a room added to the House, a room measuring about three metres square, with rush mats and rugs. Through the window she looked out east towards the snow-topped mountains of Kurdistan. (page 9)

O is for Orient Express. It was Agatha’s ambition to travel on the Orient Express, which she achieved in 1928. She went on her own on a journey on the Simpleton-Orient Express from Calais to Stamboul, and from there to Damascus. Her account of her journey is in pages 374 – 9. After a three-day stay in Damascus she travelled to Baghdad across the desert, a forty-eight-hour trip in a bus operated by two Australian brothers Gerry and Norman Nairn.

P is for Poetry. As well as her fiction works Agatha also wrote poetry and in her teens won several prizes in The Poetry Review. A collection of her poems was published in 1924 – The Road of Dreams and a later collection entitled Poems in 1973.

Q is for Quin. Mr Quin was one of Agatha’s favourite characters;

Mr Quin was a figure who just entered into a story – a catalyst, no more – his mere presence affected human beings. There would be some little fact, some apparently irrelevant phrase, to point him out for what he was: a man shown in a harlequin-coloured light that fell on him through a glass window; a sudden appearance or disappearance. Always he stood for the same thing: he was a friend of lovers, and connected with death. (page 447)

R is for Rosalind. Agatha’s daughter was born in 1919. When she was born Agatha thought that ‘she seemed from an early age both gay and determined.’ (page 274) Later in their lives AgathA wrote that Rosalind had ‘had the valuable role in life of eternally trying to discourage me without success.’ (page 489)

S is for Siblings. As a child Agatha remembered little of her older brother and sister, Monty and Madge, as they were away at school. Madge also wrote stories, many of which were accepted for Vanity Fair, a literary achievement (page 128). Agatha thought she wrote very well. Monty was a source of family trouble and worry. He was intensely musical, very charming and always had someone who would lend him money and do things for him (page 83).

T is for Travel. Agatha loved travelling and longed to see the world, which she did with her first husband, Archie Christie (pages 298 – 317). Later she travelled extensively with her second husband, Max.

U is for Ur. Agatha also visited the archaeological dig at Ur for the first time after her trip on the Orient Express. She went as a guest of the Woolleys (Sir Charles was the leader of the expedition). She was given VIP treament because Sir Charles’s wife, Katherine had just read and enjoyed Agatha’s book, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. (page 386-9)

V is for VAD. Agatha was a Voluntary Aid Detachment nurse. She had taken First Aid and Home Nursing classes before the outbreak of war in 1914. She like nursing:

From the beginning I enjoyed nursing. I took to it easily, and found it, and have always found it, one of the most rewarding professions that anyone could follow. I think if I had not married, that after the war I should have trained as a real nurse. (page 236)

W is for Writing. Throughout her autobiography Agatha writes about writing, how she wrote, where she wrote and so on. Just one quote:

… I knew that writing was my steady, solid profession. I could go on inventing my plots and writing my books until I went gaga.

There is always, of course, that terrible three weeks, or a month, which you have to get through when you are trying to get started on a book. There is no agony like it. You sit in a room, biting pencils, looking at a typewriter, walking about, or casting yourself on a sofa, feeling you want to cry your head off. (page 490)

X is an interesting letter. As Dr Thompson thinking about the murderer in The ABC Murders, said:

Interesting to know how he’d have dealt with the letter X.

Y is for Yugoslavia. Agatha and Max went to Dubrovnik and Split for their honeymoon, where they ‘had enormous fun with the menus‘; written in Yugoslavian they didn’t know what they were ordering and none of the restaurants ever wished them to pay the bill.

Z is for Zero Hour. I haven’t come across anything in the autobiography for Z. Towards Zero is both a play and a novel in which Agatha asserts that destiny manipulates us, moving us towards a decisive zero hour. (The Life and Crimes of Agatha Christie by Charles Osborne, page 172)

The Mystery of Edwin Drood by Charles Dickens

Edwin Drood 001It’s been a few weeks now since I finished reading The Mystery of Edwin Drood by Charles Dickens, his last and unfinished book. I was surprised that it took so long before the mystery actually began to emerge and that it’s more the story of Edwin Drood’s uncle, John Jasper, than it is of Drood himself.   I was also surprised that much of it is written in the present tense, a style that I’m not too keen on. I haven’t read a Dickens novel for a few years and found the difference in style between this and modern mystery novels interesting. The build up to the mystery is so much more leisurely and descriptive than in modern novels, and I had to tone down my impatience for something mysterious to happen. Once I’d passed these hurdles I enjoyed the book immensely, even though I knew that the mystery is left open.

It begins dramatically with a scene in an opium den where Jasper lies under the influence of several pipes of opium, trembling and almost incoherent from the visions that came to him. According to the introduction to the book, Dickens took great care to make the scenes in the opium den authentic and had visited one in the east end of London, under police guidance. The mystery only becomes apparent when Drood has disappeared and cannot be found.

He had been engaged to Rosa Bud from their childhood days and both had realised that they didn’t want to get married. Before that Neville Landless and Edwin had come to blows over Rosa, but made up their differences just before Edwin disappears, but Jasper spreads suspicion that Neville may have killed him.

The novel abounds with wonderful characters – Canon Crisparkle, Neville’s mentor; Durdles a stonemason and his assistant, Deputy, whose tasks include making sure the drunken Durdles gets home safely, by the unlikely means of throwing rocks at him; and my favourite character, Mr Grewgious, a lawyer and Rosa’s guardian. Over and above these characters is the setting of Cloisterham (Rochester), with its Cathedral and sinister and dark background, ideal for secrecy and crime:

… a certain awful hush pervades the ancient pile, the cloisters, and the churchyard, after dark, which not many people care to encounter.

The inhabitants of Cloisterham feel

the innate shrinking of dust with the breath of life in it, from dust out of which the breath of life has passed. (page 105)

The mystery remains unsolved. What did happen to Edwin Drood? Was he killed and if so was it by John Jasper, his uncle, obsessed with his passion for Rosa? Who is Datchery, a stranger who arrives in Cloisterham six months after Edwin’s disappearance and what is his part in the story? And what is ‘Er Royal Highness the Princess Puffer’, the opium den woman’s connection with Jasper? I suppose it’s up to each reader to decide, although there is an account given by Forster, Dickens’s friend, in which he wrote that Dickens had intended it to be a story of the murder of a nephew by his uncle, but we’ll never know if that was so.

Also reviewed by A Library of My Own.

Borrowed Books

The mobile library came last week. I wasn’t going to borrow many, if any books, but there were some on the shelves that looked interesting and the van isn’t coming again until 21 October so I thought, why not borrow them. Then we went to our granddaughter’s 10th birthday party on Saturday and our son lent me a book too. It’s the top one in the pile shown below. Finally we went into town yesterday and as I returned a book to the library there I had a quick look round and borrowed the book at the bottom of the pile.

Borrowed Books

From top to bottom they are:

  • The Tent, the Bucket and Me: My Family’s Disastrous Attempts to go Camping in the 70s by Emma Kennedy. Apparently (I say this because I haven’t got that far in the book) they go to Carnac where we also went camping (well in a caravan) in the 80s. I checked on Amazon and this book has widely different reviews – some love it and think it very funny and others think it’s dreadful and not at all funny. I wonder which ‘camp’ I’ll be in.
  • Borrower of the Night: a Vicky Bliss Murder Mystery by Elizabeth Peters. I haven’t read anything by Elizabeth Peters, but as I’ve seen some reviews on a few blogs, I thought I’d have a look at this one. I haven’t started it yet. Vicky Bliss is an art historian, beautiful and brainy, according to the back cover. This one is about a search for a missing masterwork in wood by a master carver who died in Germany in the 16th century.
  • The Fall by Simon Mawer. I’ve read one other by by Simon Mawer – The Gospel of Judas, which I’d enjoyed. The Fall is the story of Rob and Jamie, friends from childhood, with a passion for mountaineering and climbing. From just a quick look at it, I see that it begins in Snowdon (another place where went on holiday and have camped and climbed (well D climbed, I just walked). Jamie and Rob take on greater challenges, culminating in the Eiger’s North Face. The jacket description appealed to me: ‘a story that captures nature at its most beautiful and most brutal, and which unlocks the intricacies at the heart of human relationships.’
  • A Change in Altitude by Anita Shreve. I’ve not been too keen on the latest books by Anita Shreve, although I loved her earlier ones, so I thought I’d borrow this one rather than buy it. I have started to read it, but just a few pages in it hasn’t ‘grabbed’ me yet. It’s about two couples on a climbing expedition to Mount Kenya when a horrific accident occurs.
  • Sepulchre by Kate Mosse. I read Labyrinth a few years ago (before I began this blog) and at the time I noted that it was ‘OK but too long’. So this is another book I decided not to buy, but if I saw it in the library I’d borrow it. It is enormously long! So far I’ve read a few chapters, set in 1891 in Paris and I’m not sure whether I’ll ever finish it. It’s a time-split book, divided 1891 and 2007, ‘the story of a tragic love, a missing girl, a unique set of tarot cards and the strange events of a cataclysmic night.’ (from the back cover)
  • The Casebook of Victor Frankenstein by Peter Ackroyd. I’ve always enjoyed Peter Ackroyd’s books and this one looked like a candidate for the RIP Challenge (as does Sepulchre). So far I’ve read about Victor Frankenstein’s love of learning and his desire to know the secrets of nature and the source of life. He has met Shelley at Oxford University, attended lessons at the dissecting room of St Thomas’s Hospital in London and is fascinated by Humphrey Davy’s experiments with electrical experiments. So far, so good. This book also has very mixed reviews on Amazon and in the press – the Guardian, ‘disappointing‘ and the Telegraph, ‘a brilliant jeu d’esprit.’

The links are to Amazon.co.uk (except for the press reviews). The only book to get consistent reviews on Amazon is The Fall. I don’t take much notice of these reviews, unless I know the reviewer, but I find it interesting to read such varying responses.

The Naming of the Dead by Ian Rankin: Book Review

As the police prepare for the G8 Conference at Gleneagles in July 2005, DI Rebus is apparently surplus to requirements, not much more than a year away from retirement. No-one would blame him for coasting, but that’s not his way. The Naming of the Dead begins with a funeral, that of Michael, Rebus’s brother which fills him with remorse and nostalgia. But true to form he puts work before family when DS Siobhan Clarke phones to tell him of progress in the search for Cyril Colliar’s killer.

Colliar had been killed six weeks earlier and his death was the first in a series of killings of convicted rapists who had recently been released from prison. Items of clothing were found at the Clootie Well, leading forensics to identify the victims. The police had not gone overboard in trying to find the killers, but Colliar was one of Big Ger Cafferty’s men, and the gangleader wants his killer found. He leads Rebus and Siobhan to BeastWatch , a website giving details of rapists and their release dates.

Matters are complicated by the death of Ben Webster, a Labour MP at the conference. He fell from the ramparts of Edinburgh Castle. It’s not clear whether his death was an accident, suicide, or murder. Rebus’s investigation is hampered by Steelforth from Special Branch. Siobhan’s attention is diverted when her parents arrive in Edinburgh to take part in the protests and her mother is injured. Siobhan is determined to find the culprit, particularly if it’s one of the police. Then there is the local councillor Gareth Tench, who gets involved and is then killed.

As with all of Ian Rankin’s Rebus books this has a convoluted plot, with several sub-plots and many characters. Rebus as ever, is dogged and determined, cynical and weary, fighting against the odds and wishing for and fearing his retirement – what would he do? Cafferty and Rebus have their usual sparring matches and Siobhan seems to be drawn into Cafferty’s web.

There is an emphasis on family relationships and loyalties, and reflections on power and the effects of the loss of power as both Rebus and Cafferty are feeling their age:

It struck Rebus that what Cafferty feared was a loss of power. Tyrants and politicians alike feared the self-same thing, whether they belonged to the underworld or the overworld. The day would come when no one listened to them any more, their orders ignored, reputation diminished. New challenges, new rivals and predators. Cafferty probably had millions stashed away, but a whole fleet of luxury cars was no substitute for status and respect. (page 257)

For me there is too much in this book about the G8 conference and the political scene and I got restless in the middle of the book because of that. But overall I enjoyed this last but one book before Rebus finally retires.The title comes from the ritual of reading out the names of a thousand victims of warfare in Iraq. Siobhan reflects that this summed up her whole working life.

She named the dead. She recorded their last details, and tried to find who they’d been, why they’d died. She gave voice to the forgotten and the missing. A world filled with victims, waiting for her and other detectives like her. Detectives like Rebus too, who gnawed away at every case, or let it gnaw at them. Never letting go, because that would have been the final insult to those names. (page 135)

The Serpent Pool by Martin Edwards: Book Review

I’d been eagerly looking forward to reading Martin Edwards’s latest Lake District Mystery, The Serpent Pool and it didn’t disappoint. It’s a  terrific book. It has everything, a great sense of location, believable, complex characters, a crime to solve, full of tension and well paced to keep you wanting to know more, and so atmospheric. I loved all the literary connections, the secondhand bookshop, the book collectors and historian, Daniel Kind’s research into the 19th century writer, Thomas de Quincey and his history of murder.

The earlier books in the series are The Coffin Trail, The Cipher Garden, and The Arsenic Labyrinth, featuring DCI Hannah Scarlet, in charge of the Cumbria’s Cold Case Team, her partner Marc Amos, a rare book dealer and Daniel Kind, a historian and the son of Hannah’s former boss, Ben Kind. See Martin’s website for more information.

The Serpent Pool begins with the death of George Saffell, one of Marc’s customers, stabbed and then burnt to death amidst his collection of rare and valuable books.The motive for his killing, the subsequent death of another of Marc’s customers, Stuart Wagg, and the connection with the cold case Hannah is investigating gradually become clear.

Hannah is investigating the apparent suicide of Bethany Friend who had drowned 6 years earlier in the Serpent Pool, a lonely, isolated place below the Serpent Tower, a folly high on a ridge. Her mother refused to accept she had killed herself, she had no suicidal tendencies and no known history of depression. She had drowned in just eighteen inches of water and was found with her hands loosely tied behind her back and her ankles tied together. Hannah and Greg Wharf, her new detective sergeant set about re-interviewing all the witnesses.

When Hannah discovers that Marc knew Bethany she wonders what he is hiding and why he had never mentioned it to her. Their relationship is not going well and to make matters worse she is still attracted to Daniel. Marc, in turn, seems dangerously attracted to Cassie Weston, a new employee.

The complex plot kept me guessing to the end of this gripping murder mystery.

Thirteen Hours by Deon Meyer: Book Review

Thirteen Hours by Deon Meyer (translated from Afrikaans by K L Seegers) is a great book. I was engrossed in it right from the start. It’s tense, taut and utterly enthralling. Moving at a fast pace the book follows the events during the thirteen hours from 05:36 when Rachel, a young American girl is running for her life up the steep slope of Lion’s Head in Capetown.  The body of another American girl is found outside the Lutheran church in Long Street. Her throat slit had been slit. An hour or so later Alexandra Barnard, a former singing star and an alcoholic, wakes from a drunken stupor to find the dead body of her husband, a record producer, lying on the floor opposite her and his pistol lying next to her.

It’s not just the story that makes this book such a gripping read, but the characters are so well-drawn too. DI Benny Griessel is mentoring two inexperienced detectives who are investigating these crimes. I grew very fond of Benny, who is also an alcoholic and struggling to keep his marriage together. He deals with mentoring his charges very well, with patience and expertise, but also gets emotionally involved when Rachel’s father entreats him to save his daughter. There are many other memorable characters, such as Inspector Mbali Kaleni, a Zulu woman with a powerful personality who commands people’s attention, and the elderly Piet van der Lingen, who helped Rachel, looking like an ‘aged monk with his thinning grey hair around the bald spot that shone in the flourescent light.’

The two cases move along parallel to each other, keeping me desperate to know what happened next in both. The book also reflects the racial tension in the ‘new South Africa’ with its mix of white, coloured and black South Africans. There is a strong sense of location, not just from the cultural aspect but also geographical because although I know nothing about Capetown I had no difficulty in visualising the scenes from Meyer’s descriptions.

Without doubt this has to be one of the best books I’ve read this year, one that had me eager to get back to it each time I had to stop reading.