Agatha Christie: An Apology
I think it happens that you develop an aversion to something or someone to such a point as to almost erase them from existence, within your universe. For me, this has been relatively easy and is strangely one of the most brutal talents I possess. At times this has been a useful skill, other times, perhaps not. However, it has in this particular case meant that I have managed to reach the ripe old age of 37 having never read, nor felt inclined to ever read, any book by Agatha Christie (I have the same pathological feelings towards Dickens, Austin, Hardy. Though I argue in my head that this is a principled stand in regards to the worlds belief that to be educated or literate you have to read these books or be able to recite page after page; You don't)
Yet, it seems I find myself mellowing with age. And it was on the drive home after work listening to the radio when a programme came on that I had not been able to hear. It is a called 'A good Read' website here and the show is presented by, Harriet Gilbert. The format is two interviewees, sometimes authors but tending to be 'celebrities' (In the radio 4 sense, perhaps not the 'X factor sense), who bring one novel with them that they all read and the interviewee then explains the reason as to why they chose that book and discussion follows, whereby the other interviewee may agree or in some cases curse the other interviewee for making them read dross. The presenter then throws in her book, so three books dissected and discussed in 30 minutes.
In this episode one of the people brought in a copy of an Agatha Christie novel. I inwardly sighed. For me, Agatha Christie reminded me of old people books, visiting my grandparents and watching some interminable Agatha Christie, Mrs Marple or Poirot on the Tele that seemed to be advertised for 2hrs but managed to keep going for 15 (it seemed at the time) hours of borefest. It did not matter if it was Mrs Marple or Poirot. It seemed gentrified, and what old people enjoyed. I often think that at the time my imagination would suggest to me that when I reach a ripe old age and death hangs around me in the residential care home then my last days will be spend watching Mrs Marple or Poirot in the communal TV room, all life having fled from me. Agatha Christie to me, was the last meal in the 'dignitas' clinic!
However, as a man of an open mind. I listened to the show, as there was no other channel I fancied (considering the only other channel I would now listen to if Radio 4 isn't available in the car is now, Radio 3. Which shows to a certain extent how exciting an individual I am). The book they were discussing was the, 'A B C Murders' (note this link will take you to a whole overview of plot, so beware spoilers). First published in 1936, so nigh on 80 years old. My grandmother was 14, when this book was released and the only war remembered as great, was the 1914-1918 as it wasn't the first world war as the second was 3 years away. The emphasis I am making is that this novel comes from a very different age, in the same country, but a very different age. A country, whose love of empire had been severely shaken by the great war and was to, all intents and purposes, no longer the worlds only Naval based superpower and within 3 years would entire the war that would de-robe the UK of empire and begin the process to defeat the pretence to world influence in a post war world. As an historian (of earlier times admittedly, but I have always seen the 1930's as a transitional decade for the English), ushering us from the tail of the boom provided by the industrial revolution and innovation that led to empire and splendid isolation, to the post 30's and abject war enforced bankruptcy and a shell shocked national sense of pride in that superiority being forcibly stripped away (a problem we still face now, if you are a Tory, of believing the UK is a world power when the decline has been there for all to see, in power and influence).
So from the 1930's (the last UK decade of world power) came this crime book. Which when discussed by the interviewees, arguably introduced the world to the first literary serial killer. The plot sounded fascinating, so I thought, why not, I'll have a look in the library and see if I can find a copy, and I did.
Yet, it seems I find myself mellowing with age. And it was on the drive home after work listening to the radio when a programme came on that I had not been able to hear. It is a called 'A good Read' website here and the show is presented by, Harriet Gilbert. The format is two interviewees, sometimes authors but tending to be 'celebrities' (In the radio 4 sense, perhaps not the 'X factor sense), who bring one novel with them that they all read and the interviewee then explains the reason as to why they chose that book and discussion follows, whereby the other interviewee may agree or in some cases curse the other interviewee for making them read dross. The presenter then throws in her book, so three books dissected and discussed in 30 minutes.
In this episode one of the people brought in a copy of an Agatha Christie novel. I inwardly sighed. For me, Agatha Christie reminded me of old people books, visiting my grandparents and watching some interminable Agatha Christie, Mrs Marple or Poirot on the Tele that seemed to be advertised for 2hrs but managed to keep going for 15 (it seemed at the time) hours of borefest. It did not matter if it was Mrs Marple or Poirot. It seemed gentrified, and what old people enjoyed. I often think that at the time my imagination would suggest to me that when I reach a ripe old age and death hangs around me in the residential care home then my last days will be spend watching Mrs Marple or Poirot in the communal TV room, all life having fled from me. Agatha Christie to me, was the last meal in the 'dignitas' clinic!
However, as a man of an open mind. I listened to the show, as there was no other channel I fancied (considering the only other channel I would now listen to if Radio 4 isn't available in the car is now, Radio 3. Which shows to a certain extent how exciting an individual I am). The book they were discussing was the, 'A B C Murders' (note this link will take you to a whole overview of plot, so beware spoilers). First published in 1936, so nigh on 80 years old. My grandmother was 14, when this book was released and the only war remembered as great, was the 1914-1918 as it wasn't the first world war as the second was 3 years away. The emphasis I am making is that this novel comes from a very different age, in the same country, but a very different age. A country, whose love of empire had been severely shaken by the great war and was to, all intents and purposes, no longer the worlds only Naval based superpower and within 3 years would entire the war that would de-robe the UK of empire and begin the process to defeat the pretence to world influence in a post war world. As an historian (of earlier times admittedly, but I have always seen the 1930's as a transitional decade for the English), ushering us from the tail of the boom provided by the industrial revolution and innovation that led to empire and splendid isolation, to the post 30's and abject war enforced bankruptcy and a shell shocked national sense of pride in that superiority being forcibly stripped away (a problem we still face now, if you are a Tory, of believing the UK is a world power when the decline has been there for all to see, in power and influence).
So from the 1930's (the last UK decade of world power) came this crime book. Which when discussed by the interviewees, arguably introduced the world to the first literary serial killer. The plot sounded fascinating, so I thought, why not, I'll have a look in the library and see if I can find a copy, and I did.
And then, the revelation. It's an exceptional read. It's marvellously written as it flows so well and like any good story it hooks you into that flow and takes you along for quite a ride, for a mystery novel. I experienced it like I experience, Ian rankin. Firstly it takes a little time, dancing around with the intro that then before you realise the author has reached into your mind with literary hooks and your stuck in the novel unable to escape the plot, the characterisation as it runs on at a pace, through twists and turns. Agatha Christie writes an exceptional story, she was an exceptional storyteller. I was, am amazed how much I am enjoying this Poirot yarn.
The language is relatively quaint, the vocabulary is almost strange to me. Like looking into a history machine, words used frequently that we no longer use, or very few of us do. Words we now use in different contexts, twisted from the original context, as Christie uses them. The sentences and paragraphs are so well structured and the narrative is so strong and ordered.
In a way therefore, I am a little sad. After so many years, discovering to myself just how wrong I could be. But, with all things, the silver lining is that like a coal company I now have that feeling of discovering in the mine of books, a huge untapped seam of pure high quality coal that can be mined for a fair time, due to her undoubted profligate output, there is a good few years ahead. This brings the ultimate feeling I have rarely felt of late; the discovery of a new author with a large back catalogue that is there and ready to be exploited which so appeals to my addictive nature.
Agatha Christie; for my shameful and predujiced belief you were writing for blue rinsed old people waiting for death, I apologise most profusely. I was wrong, terribly wrong.
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