The Disappearance of Agatha

I've been on a bit of an Agatha Christie binge lately, helped along by Masterpiece Theater and their fabulous renderings of some of the best Hercules Poirot and Miss Marple mysteries. Although she wrote more than just the Poirot and Marple series - did you know she wrote romance novels under the pseudonym Mary Westmacott? - Christie will always be known as the Queen of Mystery. She's also the most-read novelist of all time. We know so much about her as a novelist, but little is ever discussed about her personal life.

Of course this wasn't always the case. In 1926, the Queen of Mystery made headlines around the world when she herself disappeared. It was a Friday, December 23, when Agatha Christie kissed her daughter goodnight and left her home in Berkshire around 9:45 pm and drove away without explanation. Her abandoned car was later found near Guildford but without a trace of the author to be found. No clues. No ransom note. No sign of foul play. 

Christie was enjoying the soaring heights of success. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd was her newest novel and was enjoying exceptional sales. As the days passed with no sign of the author, the country began to fear the worst. Police mobilized 15,000 volunteers to search the local area, including a local lake called the Silent Pool which Christie had used in one of her novels for a character's death. Suspicion also turned toward Christie's dashing WWI Airman husband, Colonel Archibald Christie (police even tapped his phone); suspicions perhaps not too unfounded, as it turned out.

For eleven days England feared the worst. Then, inexplicably, Christie was discovered safe and sound at a spa in Harrogate, signed in under the name of Theresa Neele (if you're keeping track of clues, this is one is important). If you're wondering what the hell? you're not alone. So was everyone else. Word on the street was that Christie was suffering from temporary amnesia, but really, no one was really talking, especially Christie herself.

What we do know:

1. The good Colonel Archibald was indeed playing hokey-pokey on the side. He had found himself a mistress by the name of Nancy Neele (ahem, note the name) and was, in fact, spending the very weekend of the disappearance cooped up in a love-nest with his mistress. Prior to Christie's disappearance that night, the Colonel had informed Agatha that despite twelve years of marriage and a child together, he had fallen in love with the good Ms. Neele and wanted a divorce.

2. Earlier in the year, Christie's mother, with whom she was quite close, had passed away. It had fallen to Christie to deal with the post-death arrangements as well as the closing up of her childhood home. Christie's husband, the Colonel, being otherwise occupied (see #1).

3. Christie wrote several confusing (or misdirecting?) letters just prior to her disappearance. One was to the local police constable stating that she feared for her life. Another was to her brother-in-law (Colonel Archie's brother) telling him she would be leaving on a spa vacation shortly. Indeed she would.

4. While the country was expecting the worst and all resources mobilized, Agatha placed an advertisement in the London Times stating that Mrs Theresea Neele was looking to get in touch with relatives and they could find her at the spa in Harrogate. It wasn't until her fellow guests at the spa began note the similarities between "Theresa Neele" and the missing Agatha Christie that the whole thing blew up. Colonel Christie drove down to the spa, scooped her up and that was that.

5. England was, needless to say, absolutely furious. Most people believed that the entire thing either was a staged publicity stunt set up by Christie's publisher to up the sales of her book, despite doctor's statements to the contrary or a personal vendetta by Christie herself to punish her wayward husband. The wasted resources and - most likely - the disappointment over a possible national tragedy turning into a simple spa visit inspired righteous indignation as only the English can produce. 

6. The official word from the Christie camp seemed to claim temporary amnesia brought on by stress, although incident was swept under the rug as quickly as possible and never officially spoken of by the author herself ever again. She and the Colonel never lived together again and their divorce became final in 1928. How she put her life back together is another story altogether.

The disappearance of Agatha Christie remained one of the most gossiped-about events of the early part of the 20th century. But for me, it is only a glimpse into what must have been one of the most excruciatingly painful periods of Christie's life. The death of her mother; a husband who was obviously crappy even before he requested a divorce. This was 1926 when the Colonel would have every right, despite his philandering and downright crappiness, to expect to obtain full custody of their daughter. While her writing may have been a success, her personal life was completely disintegrating. 

So did Christie suffer from temporary amnesia? Frankly, it's none of my business. I'm simply thankful that she made it through that period of her life and went on to find stability, happiness, and a typewriter. Because if she hadn't, the world would be a lesser place.

Oh, and one last thing. In 2013, a very valuable silver cigarette case came up for auction in London. It was fondly inscribed to a certain man from Mr. and Mrs. Christie in 1926. The man in question happened to be the person who blew the whistle on Agatha at Harrogate Spa all those years ago, alerting authorities as to where their missing author really was. Make of that what you will, super-sleuths.

Welcome to the Detection Club

I recently finished reading the new William Morrow edition of Agatha Christie's classic mystery novel After the Funeral. It goes without saying that there really cannot be too many editions of the Queen of Mystery's books and this particular Poirot whodunit remains one of her more satisfying efforts. After turning the last page, once again failing to name the culprit before the big reveal (yes, I used a detective's log and no it didn't work), I flipped back to the introduction I had skipped over in my haste to begin the story. (I have a horrible habit of skipping introductions. I don't want to hear what someone else thinks of a book before I even begin reading reading it. Spoilers lurk everywhere in introductions. It is a minefield to be avoided at all costs.)

This particular introduction was written by Sophie Hannah, the author who was chosen to pen the upcoming "Agatha Christie Mystery" The Monogram Murders. (If you harbor doubts about anyone else - regardless of talent - writing as Agatha Christie allow me to assure you that you're not alone. But that is a discussion for another day.) In her introduction Hannah muses that the kind of mysteries Christie wrote, "the ones with the high-concept, seemingly-impossible-yet-possible solutions, the ones that take your breath away," would not curry favor with contemporary readers whose "expectations of novels have changed." She notes that during Christie's time, readers simply expected an exciting story, while today's readers expect more realism. In some sub-genres, of course, this is true. She never explicitly says so (and I wondered if she knew it herself), but she is simply describing what is known as the different Schools of Mystery.

Agatha Christie belonged to what is known as The Golden Age of the British Detective Novel which flourished between the 1920s and the 1930s (also called Puzzle-Plots). Cleverness was the name of the game and outwitting the reader was the goal. Grisly violence, social or political commentary, and descriptive sex was all off limits because it was untidy and couldn't be resolved with a return to nice, neat British social order by the end. Our cousins across the pond do love things nice and tidy...little wonder I harbor such an affinity for them. 

Agatha Christie

And who can blame the public for making these novels bestsellers? The 1920s saw Europe in tatters. World War I had just ended and everyone was still questioning the death, the carnage. For what? Order - not just social order - had been destroyed. The Lost Generation was groping it's way through the arts.  Fascism was rising across the Continent. The average reader lacked an anchor...stability. The British detective novels were, if not quite solvable for the average reader, predictable in format. They provided a safe feeling that order would be restored by the end of the novel.

In 1928 a group of authors gathered together to form a club (a club which is still, by the way, still in existence today). They called it the Detection Club. The first President was C.K. Chesterton. Founding members: Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers, Anthony Berkeley, Gladys Mitchell, Miles Burton/John Rhode, Father Ronald Knox, and Freeman Wills Croft. Members of the club agreed to rigidly adhere to the following ten rules as established by Knox:

1. The criminal must be someone mentioned in the early part of the story, but must not be anyone whose thoughts the reader has been allowed to follow.
2. All supernatural or preternatural agencies are ruled out as a matter of course.
3. Not more than one secret room or passage is allowable.
4. No hitherto undiscovered poisons may be used, nor any appliance which will need a long scientific explanation at the end.
5. No Chinaman may figure in the story.
6. No accident must ever help the detective, nor must he ever have an unaccountable intuition which proves to be right.
7. The detective must not himself commit the crime.
8. The detective must not light on any clues which are not instantly produced for the inspection of the reader.
9. The stupid friend of the detective, the Watson, must not conceal any thoughts which pass through his mind; his intelligence must be slightly, but very slightly, below that of the average reader.
10. Twin brothers, and doubles generally, must not appear unless we have been duly prepared for them.

1932 Detection Club Dinner

If the rules and format of a British Detective Novel from the Golden Age sound vaguely familiar to modern day readers, it might be because you still see their offspring in what we now refer to as cosy mysteries. I find it fascinating that the name of the sub-genre reflects the comfort that the original genre produced in it's audiences. I don't believe that to be coincidence.

The Puzzle-Plots that Agatha Christie wrote were only one of many Schools of Mystery that have made an appearance since Edgar Allan Poe first ushered in what would become an irresistible genre of reading. From hard-boiled detective fiction to locked-room mysteries; from police procedurals to psychological thrillers, the mystery genre has a variety of schools that are all worthy of study. I'm not entirely certain that they completely evolved from reader demands, but rather were simply a reflection of the times. While Sophie Hannah contends that modern day readers find Christie's plots not "plausible" enough to find commercial success, I would argue that the fact that William Morrow is publishing brand-new editions of Christie's novels refutes that argument entirely. 

Agatha, you slay me...

Question: is there just one Agatha Christie mystery that I can solve before it is explained to me?

Answer: not yet, damn it.

Gah. As I merrily roll along with the Agatha Christie Read Along (hosted by Book Club Girl) this summer, I vacillate between moments of sheer joy with Christie's brilliant plotting and utter frustration with my seeming inability to get ahead of her twisted mind. My dogged determination to solve just one Agatha Christie mystery before the Big Reveal was thwarted yet again with Dead Man's Folly, a 1956 Hercules Poirot story originally written as a short story but later fleshed out into a full length novel.

Dead Man's Folly begins on the lightest of notes. Adriane Oliver, a popular mystery author (and recurring character for Christie) has been hired by a wealthy couple to design a murder mystery scavenger hunt for a large party being held at their estate: "...it's all much harder to arrange than you'd think. Because you've got to allow for real people being quite intelligent, and in my books they needn't be." Oliver, embodying all of the flighty characteristics of a mystery writer ("Don't bother about me, I'm just remembering if there's anything I've forgotten"), becomes convinced - sans any real evidence - that some sort of foul play is imminent and calls her old friend Hercule Poirot to help her out, tout de suite. 

Of course, no foul play has yet been committed, but we are introduced to a cast of potential wrong-doers anyway. There is the estate owner and his beautiful, young wife whose elevator doesn't quite reach the top floor (or does it?). There is the titled but bankrupt former owner of the estate now reduced to living in a cottage on the grounds. An angry, unstable architect who might be having illicit relations with the beautiful mistress of the house. A jealous secretary. And at least a half dozen others for good measure...and this is before the murder even takes place. Whew. After the murder occurred, I was hopeless.

With enough red herrings to fill an aquarium, Dead Man's Folly had me baffled. So baffled, in fact, that when our dear Poirot finally explains who did the dastardly deed and why, I found it necessary to read the explanation TWICE to understand it. Gah. Clearly, I need a detective's notebook and a decoder ring.

Interestingly, Dead Man's Folly wasn't critically well-received upon it's original publication. The Times called it "flat and facile" with "disastrous" dialog (ouch), while the Times Literary Supplement that same year criticized the sheer volume of characters, calling all of them "very, very flat."  The one bright spot was The Observer, who was generous enough to offer: "Stunning but not unguessable solution." Hmmmm...not unguessable, you say?  Screw you, Observer.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that Masterpiece Theater's latest installment of Hercule Poirot this past weekend was, in fact, Dead Man's Folly. I managed to catch the episode and, as usual, Masterpiece Theater did impeccable work. Aside from some major foreshadowing, I was quite impressed with their faithfulness to the novel...worth the watch and it's available, of course, online at pbs.org

********************

Title: Dead Man's Folly

Author: Agatha Christie

Publisher: William Morrow

Date: 2014

Pages: 226

Source: Book Club Girl & William Morrow

The Summer of Agatha Christie: Part I

There are few things more pleasurable in the summer than a good Agatha Christie mystery. Bookclub Girl likely knew this when she decided to throw together an impromptu Agatha Christie Readalong for the summer, beginning with Christie's immortal, classic mystery AND THEN THERE WERE NONE.

Unlike her famous mystery series featuring her famous detectives Miss Marple and Hercules Poirot, And Then There Were None (1939) is a standalone novel with no featured protagonist. Yes, you read that correctly: this novel has no protagonist. Instead we have ten strangers who find themselves invited to the mysterious and secretive Soldier Island, a privately owned isle tucked off the coast of England. Each of them eagerly arrive, believing the false pretenses that led them them there, only to find that the only thing they have in common with one another is a dark deed in their past....and the day for accountability is finally at hand. One at a time, the guests at Soldier Island die for their past misdeeds. But who is killing them on this completely deserted island?

For Christie, And Then There Were None was one of her most challenging novels: ten people lured to a deserted island on false pretenses. One by one, they die. She later reflected, "I had written this book because it was so difficult to do that the idea fascinated me. Ten people had to die without it becoming ridiculous or the murderer being obvious." She succeeded only too well. In her determination to keep the murderer's identity a secret, it was necessary for Christie to write an epilogue explaining whodunit because no reader would ever be able to guess.

But aside from the impossibility of guessing whodunit (go ahead, try it...I dare you), Christie infused her novel with dark themes of innocence, guilt, and accountability. Each one of the ten characters she traps on Soldier Island has committed a crime for which they cannot be legally convicted. Yet law or no law they are still guilty. Someone has decided to impose justice. Christie develops a psychological drama that would give any modern thriller a run for it's money as each character grapples with their past crimes and imminent death.

Further heightening the psychological frenzy is the 1869 Frank J. Green poem found framed in each guest's room entitled "Ten Little Soldier Boys."* One by one each guest dies as foretold in the poem....talk about tension.

All things considered, this really is one of Christie's best novels, widely considered her masterpiece. Even for those readers who don't normally venture into the mystery genre, And Then There Were None should be required reading. If you're unfamiliar with the mystery canon, it's helpful to know that Christie broke a major rule of the genre by making it impossible for the reader to solve mystery before the end of the book. Those well-versed in the genre have definite opinions on this breach of accepted etiquette. For those who don't read a lot of mystery novels, this is something to keep in mind as you read the novel so you can form your own opinion on the matter. Personally, I loved not knowing, but others feel quite different.

Just put the book on your pile and read it this year. Then come back and talk to me --- because you will want to talk about it!


*Foot note of interest: Frank J. Green's poem was originally titled "Ten Little Nigger Boys." (This was the original title of And Then There Were None.) This was - for obvious reasons - later changed to "Ten Little Indian Boys" for UK editions while US editions were titled And Then There Were None. By 2007, the poem had again - for the purposes of Christie's novel - been changed to "Ten Little Soldier Boys" and some of the original lines modified to meet the types of murders committed within the novel.