Agatha Christie Reviews
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Cat Among The Pigeons
This is not one of Christie's better works. The action takes place almost entirely in the exclusive girls' school called Meadowbank, and is centered around a fortune in jewels.
A revolution occurs in the fictitious Middle East country of Ramat. Prince Ali Yusuf hands Bob Rawlings the gems and asks him to get them safely out of the country. Rawlings hides them in the handle of his niece Jennifer's tennis racquet, just before British citizens are evacuated. Then, while trying to escape, Rawlings and the prince are killed in a plane crash.Later, Jennifer arrives for the summer term at Meadowbank, and it isn't long before several different parties are on the scene, all on the lookout for the jewels.
For much of the book, there is little or no detection done. Police show up after the first murder, but accomplish very little. In fact, very little is done until nearly the end.By this time, no doubt, Christie was heartily sick of Poirot, but readers expected him. And so, with reluctance, the Belgian detective is dragged in to provide the solution.
Poirot doesn't do much, either. A bit of work with the "little grey cells" is about all he manages. Perhaps that's not surprising, as he doesn't appear until page 183 in my paperback copy. With a little work, Poirot could have been left out, another person could have provided the solution, and there'd really be no difference at all.You do get an interesting look at a first-class school for girls, but of course, it's in turmoil because of the murders, so the view is a bit skewed.
Overall, Cat Among The Pigeons is a minor Christie at best. Not bad, but not up to her usual standard, and the lack of action by Poirot is disappointing.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Cards On The Table
In The ABC Murders, Poirot asks Hastings to describe a "creamy" murder. Ever the romantic, he gives what Poirot calls "a very pretty resume of all the detective stories that have ever been written".
Challenged by Hastings, Poirot then describes his own choice: something simple, something intime. Four people play bridge, while a fifth sits out by the fire. Later, he is found dead. One of the other four, while dummy, has stabbed him. Hastings thinks that rather dull.
A year later, Christie actually wrote that one, and it certainly isn't dull. The odious Mr. Shaitana sets up a little dinner party with eight guests. Four represent detection: Poirot the private investigator; Mrs. Oliver, the noted mystery writer; Superintendent Battle of Scotland Yard; and Colonel Race of the secret service.
The other four guests are what Shaitana has proclaimed - to Poirot only - as
successful and unsuspected murderers. In one case at least he was certainly right: at evening's end, Shaitana is dead, stabbed while drowsing by the fire.
On the surface, none seem likely to be a killer, past or present. The pretty young girl; the celebrated explorer; the respectable, elderly widow; the fashionable doctor.
This is one of the most restricted mystery novels ever written. The killer can be only one of the four who were playing bridge in the same room with Shaitana. The matter ought to be a simple one.
Yet that is far from being the case. When we are surprised at the end of a novel where the murderer is unmasked, it is because the author has very deftly directed our attention to the wrong person.
Christie's sleight of hand (or mind) has never been better than in Cards On The Table. With only four suspects to work with, she sends us on a mind-bending route that, at the very least, leaves us uncertain, and at best, makes us suspect the innocent.
Innocent of Shaitana's murder, though there may be a little black spot in the past of more than one character. Dame Agatha brilliantly weaves past and current events to keep us guessing right up to the end.
An end that will see two more deaths before the resolution is reached. Cards On The Table is a quiet tour-de-force that will please any Christie fan. It is also a pleasure to re-read this one and watch how, seemingly without effort, she bamboozles us once again.
Challenged by Hastings, Poirot then describes his own choice: something simple, something intime. Four people play bridge, while a fifth sits out by the fire. Later, he is found dead. One of the other four, while dummy, has stabbed him. Hastings thinks that rather dull.
A year later, Christie actually wrote that one, and it certainly isn't dull. The odious Mr. Shaitana sets up a little dinner party with eight guests. Four represent detection: Poirot the private investigator; Mrs. Oliver, the noted mystery writer; Superintendent Battle of Scotland Yard; and Colonel Race of the secret service.
The other four guests are what Shaitana has proclaimed - to Poirot only - as
successful and unsuspected murderers. In one case at least he was certainly right: at evening's end, Shaitana is dead, stabbed while drowsing by the fire.
On the surface, none seem likely to be a killer, past or present. The pretty young girl; the celebrated explorer; the respectable, elderly widow; the fashionable doctor.
This is one of the most restricted mystery novels ever written. The killer can be only one of the four who were playing bridge in the same room with Shaitana. The matter ought to be a simple one.
Yet that is far from being the case. When we are surprised at the end of a novel where the murderer is unmasked, it is because the author has very deftly directed our attention to the wrong person.
Christie's sleight of hand (or mind) has never been better than in Cards On The Table. With only four suspects to work with, she sends us on a mind-bending route that, at the very least, leaves us uncertain, and at best, makes us suspect the innocent.
Innocent of Shaitana's murder, though there may be a little black spot in the past of more than one character. Dame Agatha brilliantly weaves past and current events to keep us guessing right up to the end.
An end that will see two more deaths before the resolution is reached. Cards On The Table is a quiet tour-de-force that will please any Christie fan. It is also a pleasure to re-read this one and watch how, seemingly without effort, she bamboozles us once again.
