Today is the 123rd birthday of the grand dame of detective fiction, Dame Agatha Christie. What a wonderful repertoire of detective fiction novels, starting from 'The Mysterious Affair at Styles'! I have always marvelled at her genius in devising and unravelling complex mysteries replete with dramatic and romantic tension.
Her quirkily brilliant Belgian detective, Hercule Poirot, and the good old homely, solidly English Jane Marple are two of English literature's greatest fictional detectives. One could not be more different than the other.
Poirot is proud, often rude and unapologetically vain about the quality of his "little grey cells". While one marvels at his genius and unparalleled acumen in solving puzzling cases, his attitude to poor Hastings and other police detectives often put us off. His nose up in the air, he looks down upon all us ordinary mortals, often mocking us for not being able to deduce the "logical conclusion". But hats off to him for being always firmly on the side of justice and never faltering in deliverign justice.
Miss Marple (I think she is an extension of Christie's personality) is the opposite of Poirot. She is the typical English aunt/granny with a very humble opinion of her detecting powers. She is so self-effacing that people talk to her finding her harmless. But under the demure exterior lies a razor sharp brain, capable of unravelling the most complex of crime. She unfailingly gives hardened criminals their just desserts.
There are a number of novels featuring neither Poirot nor Marple, where the crime unravels with the help of the protagonist's intervention. These novels are simply too good, with 'And There Were None', 'Crooked House' and 'Man in a Brown Suit' being my personal favourites.
Agatha Christie appeals because her fiction is so believable and deals with real palpable characters. Okay her premise may be slightly fantastic, but the way she builds up the crime is totally relatable. And she has the guts to laugh at her own beliefs. She mocks gentle fun at the uppity nature of the British, the pseudo intellectulism of the young and well-read, the stiff upper lip of genteel old nobility, the disdain shown towards foreigners (of which Poirot himself is a victim!). Through the fictional novelist, Adriadne Oliver, she laughs at her own kind.
Hats off to Christie!! There can never be anyone like you, Ma'am.
Her quirkily brilliant Belgian detective, Hercule Poirot, and the good old homely, solidly English Jane Marple are two of English literature's greatest fictional detectives. One could not be more different than the other.
Poirot is proud, often rude and unapologetically vain about the quality of his "little grey cells". While one marvels at his genius and unparalleled acumen in solving puzzling cases, his attitude to poor Hastings and other police detectives often put us off. His nose up in the air, he looks down upon all us ordinary mortals, often mocking us for not being able to deduce the "logical conclusion". But hats off to him for being always firmly on the side of justice and never faltering in deliverign justice.
Miss Marple (I think she is an extension of Christie's personality) is the opposite of Poirot. She is the typical English aunt/granny with a very humble opinion of her detecting powers. She is so self-effacing that people talk to her finding her harmless. But under the demure exterior lies a razor sharp brain, capable of unravelling the most complex of crime. She unfailingly gives hardened criminals their just desserts.
There are a number of novels featuring neither Poirot nor Marple, where the crime unravels with the help of the protagonist's intervention. These novels are simply too good, with 'And There Were None', 'Crooked House' and 'Man in a Brown Suit' being my personal favourites.
Agatha Christie appeals because her fiction is so believable and deals with real palpable characters. Okay her premise may be slightly fantastic, but the way she builds up the crime is totally relatable. And she has the guts to laugh at her own beliefs. She mocks gentle fun at the uppity nature of the British, the pseudo intellectulism of the young and well-read, the stiff upper lip of genteel old nobility, the disdain shown towards foreigners (of which Poirot himself is a victim!). Through the fictional novelist, Adriadne Oliver, she laughs at her own kind.
Hats off to Christie!! There can never be anyone like you, Ma'am.
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