Title: Ego Clash
Author: vvj5
Rating: All ages
Word Count: 567
Characters: Third Doctor, Jo Grant, Hercule Poirot

It’s time for the denouement and Poirot takes centre stage, the identity of the murderer to be unveiled… and then someone steals the limelight and insults his moustache. Incroyable!

 Este primul meu roman de Agatha Christie.Este impartit in 7 zile (din22 decembrie pana in 28 decembrie ).Nu e foarte mare : 249 de pagini.

 Un milionar batran si foarte rau pe nume Simeon Lee face o reuniune de familie cu ocazia Craciunului.Acesta are 4 fii : Alfred,George,Harry si David, si o fiica : Jennifer ( care este moarta ). Alfred traieste in casa cu tatal sau .Ei vin si cu sotiile : Lydia , Magdalene si Hilda (Harry nu are sotie , el hoinarand in lume , din cauza caracterului tatalui sau ).Ei afla ca anul asta o sa vina si 2 straini,momentan necunocuti.Acestia se dovedesc a fi Pilar Estravados(fiica lui Jennifer) si Stephen Farr (fiul asociatului lui Simeon ).Intr-o seara , batranul anunta ca isi va schimba testamentul , certandu-se cu membri familiei.In aceasi seara , este omorat , gatul fiindu-i taiat.Usa este inchisa pe dinuntru , iar geamurile sunt inchise.Cine este criminalul ? Aici intra in scena Hercul Poirot , care face ( ca de obicei ) lumina.N-o sa spun cine e criminalul , dar pot spune ca este cieva la care nu te gandeai …

 A aparut la editura Rao.Costa in jur de 20 de lei;oricum,merita toti banii : o carte super tare!

POIROT BEGINS THE INVESTIGATION

It was one hour later that the police arrived. Of course in the meantime everybody had woken up.

The police inspector’s name was Denwors. He was a strongly built and apparently under the impression that he was the most intelligent human being in that house.

‘Who discovered the murder?’, he asked as soon as he came in.

‘Me and my friend, Captain Arthur Hastings. I am…’ , Poirot answered but Denwors interfered.

‘Yes, yes. And who do you say you are? Ah, never mind. Who is willing to help me and Srg. Basing carry the body down so the coroner can examine it?’

‘Erm…’, Poirot began. ‘If I may, I am Hercule Poirot…’

‘I got that all right. Now please be quiet – I am anxious to find out the cause of death!’

‘But I know…’ This was Poirot – already getting mad.

‘I am indeed confident you know a lot, and yet…’, it was the inspector’s turn to be interrupted.

‘She was poisoned with belladonna!’, Poirot shrieked and everybody turned to us.

‘Excuse me!’

‘Yes?’, Poirot asked as if nothing would have happened.

‘How in God’s name did you know that?!’ The inspector made big eyes and was very amazed.

‘It is in my nature to know things…’ That was about the most modest thing Poirot could say about himself.

‘Who did you say you are?’, the inspector said finally paying a minimum of attention to us.

‘Hercule Poirot, and this is my friend, Cpt. Hastings. If you don’t mind, I will also conduct an investigation to find Miss Dervandt’s killer. Now, I apologize, but I will go upstairs to interview the party.’ With this, we left the poor man in a more or less absolute amazement and went to the room of our host.

‘Poirot, you are going to solve this case, aren’t you?’

‘Oh, do not worry, my friend, do not worry. Hercule Poirot is here! But you understand I will have to know what you and your other guests, as well as the Duchess did before you went to bed.’

‘Of course, of course. I suppose this is why you came?… To interview me?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so. Now, please describe me what you did last night.’, Poirot started.

‘Well, soon after we talked, I went upstairs. It was about half past ten. I was the first to go up – older age’s problems… I didn’t hear anything, I didn’t see anything. I take sleeping pills; as a result of so many years of work in the fashion industry.’ Roger’s story was much clearer than one would have expected. Probably because of his past experience of being part of an investigation of Poirot. ‘The others I should think, followed my example. But if there was anything to be heard or seen, ask Thomas. His room is next to the Duchess’ and he doesn’t sleep very well either.’

‘Thank you.’, Poirot said and we went out. ‘So his room is next to the Duchess’. That’s interesting.’

We went to the secretary’s room. He was sitting on the sofa and drinking a steaming cup of tea. He had been crying – his eyes were all red.

‘Yes, please? You came to ask me wether I saw or heard anything last night, didn’t you?’

Poirot nodded.

‘There’s no point in hiding the truth. I really am a secretary, but I’m not from South-Hampton. I come from a relatively poor family, so when a rich secretary offered me a big salary to come with him to Holland, I couldn’t say no. That is where I met the Duchess. Her title is too important to allow her to be seen with me, so we set up a sort of strategy: I was to go where she went, but a few months earlier, and get a job in the area, so we could meet. This time, Mr. Chiswick himself proved to be in need of a secretary.’

‘What about last night?’

‘As usually’, he continued, ‘I went to her room, where I was supposed to stay with her until she fell asleep. She had gone to bed at eleven and I joined her twenty minutes later, but she was already asleep. I assumed it was because of tonight’s party, so I went to my room. Most unusual, I also fell asleep in only a couple of minutes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d rather be alone for some time.’

Mkay peoples.  The lovely Kals is hosting her very first challenge over at her equally lovely blog.  I’m not even going to waste time asking you to join in because I know you will.  Immediately.  What is the topic you ask?  Well, I will give you some hints:

1.  Knitting needles

2. Magnificent moustaches

3. Pipes that are usually filled with tobacco, but sometimes that kooky rascal Opium shows up too.

Put them all together and what have you got….

That’s right.  Kals is calling on all book lovers to get knee-deep in stories from three of the greatest mystery solving characters EVER.  The challenge is a year long undertaking beginning on January 1, 2010 and ending on December 31, 2010.  The basic premise is to choose two books from each of our nosy crime fighters and complete them within the year.  Please read the full details and sign up here.

I, for one, am really frigging excited about it.

MURDER!

I sat in a big comfortable arm-chair examining the party. It consisted of the same people we had met two days ago, only for an american cabaret dancer Monique who had joined us this morning. Not extremely beautiful, but had big bright eyes. She was just explaining the coreography of one of her numbers to Josephine Chiswick, who was absolutely fascinated. Duchess van der Hausen was dancing with Thomas Worley and Lady Malroft with General Malroft.

‘Charming couple, isn’t it?’ Roger Chiswick approached me. He meant the Duchess and his secretary.

‘They seem to be dancing together for ages.’, I aproved. ‘Is she married?’

‘Widow. Why?’, he paused. ‘You don’t think that… Do you? I mean they’ve just met eachother!’

‘I do’, Mrs. Carter interfered. ‘It’s actulally quite obvious.’

‘But a woman of her… social status… with… my secretary?’, Roger seemed stunned.

‘When did you hire Mr. Worley?’, Poirot asked. ‘I believe rather recently, isn’t it?’

‘As a matter of fact, you’re right, Poirot. Just three months ago. But he’s a great secretary. Always knows where things are and brings them to me in a minute. Not like the last one I had. Let me see… What was his name? Ah, Lavereaux. Something Lavereaux. Half french. Total imbecile!’ Mr. Chiswick got up from the settee and went to get himself another glass of wine. He looked at the pair we were talking about all the way to the bottle.

When he came back he said, ‘She’s looking at him like at a god. I don’t know why, with that scar of his.’

Two hours later Josephine Chiswick, Poirot and I were left alone in the drawing-room. The others had gone to bed.

‘So, tell me, Monsieur Poirot,’ she began, ‘Do you think you will have some work to do around here? Any precious diamonds to be recovered? I always wanted to be part of such a scandal – it’s so exciting! – yet I’m never in the right place at the right time.’

‘Oh, but mademoiselle, it is very wrong what you wish for! And no, unless your father does not want me to find out Mr. Worley’s true origins, then I do not think I will have any investigation to conduct.’ Poirot answered.

‘You mean… He’s not coming from South-Hampton?’

‘No. He’s an Englishman allright, but he emigrated to the mainland where I’m pretty sure he met the Duchess.’, Poirot explained like all of it would have been more than obvious.

‘Really? Who’d have thought?!’ , she cried and stood up and started walking round the room thinking.

Poirot looked at her with an air of superiority, but also sort of indulgently. We appologized and went to bed, leaving her alone. As we climbed the very steep stairs which led to our bedroom, we heard a shriek piercing through the quiet night at Willow Manor. It came from the second floor.

‘The Duchess’ room!’, uttered Poirot and ran to the chamber. I followed.

‘It’s locked!’

‘We must break it!’, he said. ‘At three… One… Two… Three!’

And bang! The door crashed on the wooden floor to unveil a sinister view. The Duchess was lying in her bed, with her hands clasped round the bedsheet and staring at the ceiling. I ran to her to check her pulse, but Poirot stopped me.

‘Ah, there’s no use now.’ He looked at her.

‘What dilated pupils she has!’, I noticed.

‘Indeed, Hastings. Good point. She is also very hot and her mouth is unusually dry. Call the police. I’ll wake Roger up.’

 Hercule Poirot este un detectiv creat de Agatha Christie , fiind printre cei mai celebri detectivi ai lumii.

Este descris ca fiind nu mai inalt de 5 picioare , cu capul in forma de ou(care era dat tot timpul intr-o parte), par negru,si o mustata neagra,militaroasa.In descrierea pe care o face capitanul Arthur Hastings  in “Misterioasa afacere de la Styles” , “…Curatenia imbracamintii lui era aproape incredibila;cred caun fir de praf i-ar fi provocat mai multa durere decat o rana facuta de un glonte …”.  In prima carte in care a aparut,i se atribuie si schiopatatul,dar care dispare in timp.De asemenea,are ochi verzi care stralucesc mai puternic cand are o idee.

Dar in anii 1960, creatoarea lui il uraste.In anii ‘30,il considera ‘doar’ insuportabil.Aceasta relatie este siilara cu cea dintre Sherlok  Holmes si creatorul sau , Arthur Conan Doyle.

Apare in peste 30 de romane si 50 de povestiri polotiste.

Este singurul personaj fictiv a carui moarte(in romanul “Cortina-ultimul caz al lui Poirot) a primt un necrolog in New York Times. 

David Suchet como Poirot

Duas notas na rede falando sobre “Incident of the Dog’s Ball”, descoberto pela filha de Agatha em 2004. A primeira da Reuters, em 10.11.2009:

After more than 30-years, murder mystery writer Agatha Christie’s fictional Belgian detective Hercule Poirot will return to the United States next week.

The Strand Magazine said it will publish the 5,000-word story called the Incident of the Dog’s Ball, which was found in the attic of the author’s daughter in 2004.

The story was published in the Britain in September.

“It’s a typical Agatha Christie whodunnit,” Andrew Gulli, the editor of the Strand, said in a telephone interview, adding that it contains lots of surprises.

Pistas, pistas...

A segunda, da Examiner.com, em 12.11.2009:

Agatha Christie’s famed detective, Hercule Poirot, will make a surprise U.S. reappearance in Strand Magazine’s tenth anniversary issue, to be published next week. This Reuters November 10, 2009 announcement followed closely upon Strand’s mention of a surprise in store for for its readers of the magazine’s upcoming issue.

The new Christie publication, a 5,000-word short story entitled “The Incident of the Dog’s Ball,” was discovered in the home of Christie’s daughter in 2004. British readers saw an earlier September 2009 release of the story.

Una delle locandine del film

ALIBI E SOSPETTI
di Pascal Bonitzer
con Miou-Miou, Lambert Wilson, Valeria Bruni Tedeschi, Pierre Arditi, Anne Consigny

Abbiamo scavallato il nuovo millennio da quasi una decina d’anni ma Agata Christie continua a suggerire a registi ed emuli dalle buone intenzioni trame per le loro opere. Opere, diciamolo, che spesso sono di una qualità piuttosto scarsa, in modo particolare nel momento in cui il regista in oggetto non si limita a prendere il libro della celeberrima scrittrice inglese e trasporlo sul grande schermo, ma ci si mette di buzzo buono per cambiarlo un po’, magari aggiornandolo ai nuovi tempi che corrono. L’esito è sempre inferiore alle aspettative, forse e soprattutto perché, all’improvviso, vengono a mancare sotto i piedi della storia raccontata le solide fondamenta del giallo classico di cui la Christie è stata indiscussa maestra.

Cosa analoga la si potrebbe scrivere di questo “Alibi e sospetti” firmato dal regista francese Pascal Bonitzer e con un cast particolarmente raffinato e ricercato. Bonitzer prende spunto dall’intrigo di un romanzo della Christie, quel “The Hollow” (Poirot e la salma) del 1946 che dovrebbe avere il bravo Hercule Poirot quale mente formidabile della legge e della giustizia a risolvere un intrigo all’apparenza davvero insolubile o, diversamente, già risolto ad uno sguardo superficiale. Prende questa trama gialla, dicevamo, e la trapianta nel nostro mondo moderno e quotidiano, fatto di sms e da una informazione necrofagica e pruriginosa. Un gruppo di amici dell’alta borghesia francese, fatta da medici, politici e intellettuali, si ritrova per un week end di relax nella villa del senatore Henri Pages. Tra cose dette e non dette, piccoli misteri e grandi corna ci scappa il morto: l’affermato psichiatra Pierre Collier viene trovato morto a bordo della piscina privata dell’influente politico, accanto la moglie con in mano una pistola revolver. Peccato che il colpo che abbia ucciso il medico sia di una semiautomatica 9mm. Mistero.

Ammetto di non essere un grandissimo estimatore della Christie e di non conoscere neanche in maniera molto approfondita la sua produzione letteraria, men che meno questo romanzo da cui il film è tratto, che non ho letto. Ipotizzo, comunque, che una volta ritrovato il corpo il buon Poirot, con i suoi baffetti e il suo look alla Philippe Daverio, entri in scena e una osservazione dopo l’altra, una induzione tra un sigaro Avana e un cognac e via che il giallo è bello che risolto. Nel film manca tutto ciò, così come manca una figura fondamentale e protagonista come quella dell’investigatore francese, la risoluzione dell’enigma avviene un po’ per caso, a botte di culo, e soprattutto senza grosse punte di suspense o colpi di scena e di ritmo in grado di tenere desta la nostra attenzione di spettatori un po’ annoiati.

Gli attori, poi, svolgono il loro mestiere in modo più che dignitoso, ma mediante un “mestiere” più adatto ad un’opera teatrale piuttosto che ad una cinematografica. Non si può recitare nei due ambiti allo stesso modo. Il risultato è una narrazione fredda e distante, incapace di farti appassionare non dico agli algidi personaggi, ma almeno alla trama e alla risoluzione del mistero. È proprio questo il punto. Si è più impegnati a guardare l’orologio che a far funzionare il cervello per scoprire l’assassino prima della fine del film. E questo credo non sia un buon viatico per un film giallo.

CLICCANDO QUI potete vedere il traile di “Alibi e sospetti” e leggerne la scheda completa.

Peter Ustinov

Come per la collega Miss Marple, anche per Hercule Poirot ci sono stati altrettanti attori ad averlo impersonificato.
Ma l’unico Hercule Poirot più avvincente, carico di “humour”, sagace come pochi e dalla presenza strabordante è stato lui.. il grande e mai dimenticato Peter Ustinov.
Con quell’aria sorniona quasi a prenderti in giro, dipana le matasse più intricate con invidiabile leggerezza. Peter ha caratterizzato molto il suo Poirot tanto da renderlo ironico al solo guardarlo.
Anche per lui, se riuscite a trovare i “suoi” Poirot, vi consiglio caldamente di acquistarli senza la minima esitazione.

1978: Death on the Nile (regia di John Guillermin). In Italia è uscito con il titolo “Assassinio sul Nilo”.

David Niven, Peter Ustinov, Angela Lansbury, Olivia Hussey - Death on the Nile (1978)

1982: Evil Under the Sun (regia di Guy Hamilton). In Italia è uscito con il titolo “Delitto sotto il sole”.

Peter Ustinov, Maggie Smith - Evil under the sun (1982)

1985: Thirteen at Dinner (regia di Lou Antonio). In Italia è uscito per la TV con il titolo “Tredici a tavola”.

Peter Ustinov, Faye Dunaway - Thirteen at dinner (1985)

1986: Dead Man’s Folly (regia di Clive Donner). In Italian è uscito per la TV con il titolo “Caccia al delitto”.

Jonathan Cecil, Jean Stapleton, Peter Ustinov - Dead Man's Folly (1986)

1986: Murder in Three Acts (regia di Gary Nelson). In Italia è uscito per la TV con il titolo “Tragedia in tre atti”.

Tony Curtis, Emma Samms, Peter Ustinov - Murder in Three Acts (1986)

1988: Appointment with Death (regia di Michael Winner). In Italia è uscito per la TV con il titolo “Appuntamento con la morte”.

Peter Ustinov, John Gielgud - Appointment with Death (1988)

Buona visione a tutti

Hablando de cuentos de misterio (estoy leyendo y escribiendo un par), el día de hoy vi el trailer de lo que será la versión cinematográfica más reciente de las aventuras del famoso detective del 221 de la calle Baker.  Mi opinión respecto a dicho trailer y respecto las novelas de detectives en general, en una entrada próxima. Mientras tanto, dame tu opinión:

I know this news is quite old, but I’ve just hear it now. Agatha Christie lost stories were found in the attic of her daughter house on 2004 and the book itself was published in Britain on September 2009. The good news for American people, the story called “Incident of the Dog’s Ball” will be published soon by the Strand Magazine.

Agatha Christie

Here’s the snapshot of the news from Reuters:

The Strand Magazine said it will publish the 5,000-word story called the Incident of the Dog’s Ball, which was found in the attic of the author’s daughter in 2004.

…

“It’s a typical Agatha Christie whodunnit,” Andrew Gulli, the editor of the Strand, said in a telephone interview, adding that it contains lots of surprises.

Well… I just hope that the story will be published in Indonesia too somehow. I can’t wait to see it happened.

sapete perchè i libri gialli si chiamano così? è una storia che risale al 1929, anno in cui la mondadori pubblicò il primo titolo (per la cronaca, era “la strana morte del signor benson” di s.s. van dine, un caso per l’impareggiabile philo vance) di una collana dedicata a romanzi di investigazione, e per la copertina scelsero il colore giallo: et voilà, quella collana ebbe un tale successo, e alla dipartita del sig. benson ne seguirono così tante altre che la tinta finì per diventare sinonimo del genere letterario.

genere letterario molto bistrattato nel corso degli anni, soprattutto dagli altri generi, che l’hanno sempre guardato un pò dall’alto in basso…intendiamoci, non tutti i romanzi gialli sono dei capolavori. anzi, la stragrande maggioranza non lo è. arrivo a dire che forse non lo è la quasi totalità. ma, a parte il fatto che è da dimostrare che in altri generi letterari i veri capolavori fiocchino come neve di natale, è sbagliato non riconoscere a questo filone alcun lato positivo: è ottuso e miope, per il solo scopo di sminuire la categoria “libri gialli” non essere in grado di riconoscere gli spunti originali, curiosi, appassionanti e anche divertenti che alcuni autori ci hanno regalato, attraverso gli investigatori nati dalla loro immaginazione.

personalmente ho un debole per quelli in cui i protagonisti sono investigatori, per così dire, amatoriali…non necessariamente nel senso di dilettanti, ma indubbiamente di “non appartenenti alle forze di polizia” (e spesso in comico e aperto conflitto con loro, e penso al meraviglioso nero wolfe) dame agatha christie ce ne ha omaggiati addirittura due, il vanesio segugio belga hercule poirot, per cui nessun mistero resta tale a lungo, e miss jane marple, la vecchietta zitellona di un paesino di campagna inglese, st. mary meade, che generalmente sbroglia situazioni criminose intricatissime semplicemente basandosi sulla somiglianza di uno o l’altro dei personaggi coinvolti a qualche abitante del suo paesino e intuendone così personalità, difetti e possibili reazioni (poco ci possiamo meravigliare, poi, se i tutori dell’ordine si imbufaliscono quando, nonostante tutta la loro competenza e le loro indagini, il caso viene risolto da lei con questi metodi… )

il cervello affilato come un pugnale di sherlock holmes mi ha sempre lasciata senza fiato…e ho amato molto anche la rapidità di ingegno di ellery, figlio dell’ispettore richard queen…oltre al suo gusto per la vita…su quello che penso del sig. nero wolfe di new york city non occorrerà spendere molte parole e lo potrete facilmente indovinare, se vi dico che ha un carattere piuttosto burbero (ma dal cuore d’oro) e la sua grande passione è la cucina (oltre alle orchidee).

c’è mai stato un detective, più o meno professionista, che è diventato caro al vostro cuore, e di cui avete seguito le imprese con interesse? letterario, o televisivo…tra quelli televisivi io voto tutta la vita per la più fantastica insegnante di cabot cove, maine…evviva la signora jessica fletcher!

il primo giallo mondadori

l'investigatore philo vance

monsieur hercule poirot

the incomparable mr. holmes

nero wolfe

indimenticabile ellery queen

la signora di cabot cove

Cai o pano

A Avon, empresa de vendas porta-a-porta que atende o Brasil inteiro, apresenta uma novidade em seu catálogo de produtos da campanha 19/2009: um box contendo três livros de Agatha Christie por R$19,99.

Este ciclo de vendas se encerra no dia 18 de novembro, com os pedidos entregues em 28 de novembro.

Os livros do box são editados pela Nova Fronteira e os títulos são:

Assassinato no Expresso do Oriente [222 p.]
Pouco depois da meia-noite, uma tempestade de neve pára o Expresso do Oriente nos trilhos. O luxuoso trem está surpreendentemente cheio para essa época do ano. Mas, na manhã seguinte, há um passageiro a menos. Um americano é encontrado morto em sua cabina, com doze facadas, e a porta estava trancada por dentro. Pistas falsas são colocadas no caminho de Hercule Poirot para tentar mantê-lo fora de cena, mas, num dramático desenlace, ele apresenta não uma, mas duas soluções para o crime.

Cai o Pano [217 p.]
Para resolver o último caso de sua carreira, o detetive belga Hercule Poirot volta ao local onde solucionou os primeiros crimes. Neste livro, o último de um ciclo de romances de Agatha Christie, o talento da escritora inglesa junta-se à primorosa tradução de Clarice Lispector.

O Natal de Poirot [223 p.]
Um grupo de pessoas se dirige à Gorston Hall, para celebrar o Natal. Entre elas, um francês, um sul-africano e uma misteriosa e bela espanhola. A moça, Pilar, parece muito frágil – mas não há dúvidas de que seus nervos são de ferro: eles lhe serão indispensáveis para o abominável Natal que se aproxima.

A serial killer is on the loose and each murder is announced ahead of time through a letter to the now retired Hercule Poirot. The book opens with Captain Hastings visiting his friend and being on hand when he receives the first mysterious letter. The letter has a taunting tone and warns Monsieur Poirot to “Look out for Andover on the 21st of the month” and signed A.B.C. The warning causes much unease for Hercule who reports it to Chief Inspector Japp of Scotland Yard. Japp isn’t inclined to take the letter seriously thinking Poirot to be a doddering old fool when the 21st comes and goes without any undue incident. But then on the morning of the 22nd, poor Alice Ascher of Andover is discovered dead behind the counter of her smoke and sundries shop killed sometime the day before. “This is the beginning” says Hercule Poirot.

The story is told alternatively as a first person remembrance of Captain Hastings and in third person following the action of a fishy character prone to epileptic blackouts named Alexander Bonaparte Cust. He is described as “a tall wan man with a lost-dog look, so unprepossessing as to be almost invisible.” In other words just like every other serial killer description: quiet man, kept to himself mostly, you’d never suspect! These chapters, interspersed throughout, have the fabulously amusing titles of: (Not From Captain Hastings Personal Narrative).

More letters arrive from A.B.C. and even with the warning, the police always arrive one step behind and the bodies pile up: Betty Barnard of Bexhill-on-Sea, Sir Carmichael Clarke of Churston, at the scene of each murder is found an ABC railway guide. Another clue seems to be the appearance of a stocking salesman in each village prior to the murders. I was delighted to find that prior to her untimely demise, Betty Barnard was a waitress at a cozy little establishment called The Ginger Cat.

The police and Poirot are at their wit’s end until Doncaster when the murderer appears to make a mistake and kills the wrong man in a movie theater. A suspicious landlady finally points the finger at Cust and when police search his apartment they find, stockings, a stack of ABC railway guides and the typewriter on which the letters were written. Case closed? So you would think, but there’s a surprising twist at the end and Poirot is vindicated as the superb and cunning sleuth who cracks the case. Four murders: one heavy object at back of neck, one strangulation by scarf, one head bashed in and a stabbing. Entertaining book with an excellent twist, 8 daggers.

I settled not to work this weekend—I needed to get my entire body out of work to reboot itself. So, while my system is on auto-defragmentation, I decided to go over one of the novels I bought before but never really got to read right away. I chose Curtain by Agatha Christie.

It's my new favorite Agatha Christie-Hercule Poirot murder mystery novel!

At first, I felt something peculiar about this novel. It’s like I read something significant about it before but all together, it looked like any normal Christie novel. When I researched on Wikipedia, that was when all my assumptions were justified: Curtain chronicles the last murder mystery case of Christie’s main protagonist, Hercule Poirot. “Oh great!,” I thought. I’ve read just two Hercule Poirot murder mystery novels and now, I’m about to read his last case! And from what I gathered, he dies in this novel.

And he did. It was such a shock that he had to die while seemingly leaving a case unsolved. But in the final chapter, it turns out that he still emerges successful.

Curtain takes our Poirot and his Watson, Captain Arthur Hastings, back to the setting of the first novel (The Mysterious Affair at Styles) of the Poirot mystery series—Styles Court. Our hero perceives that a murder would happen once again in this revered place—a case that has some relation to five earlier executed, but unrelated, murders. Poirot knows the identity of the murderer and labels him “X,” apparently closing his identity to Hastings (and the reader). Now “X” is described as the most cunning and most intelligent of the murderers that Poirot has encountered all throughout his sleuthing career.

Poirot reports that this murderer is able to enjoy the satisfaction of killing without ever having to do the actual act. At first, I didn’t get what he meant, but as I read on, it dawned on me that this murderer urges a would-be victim to commit murder. He will identity a person who would likely have a motive to kill—a daughter being maltreated by an uncle, a wife with a womanizer husband, a father who wants to protect his daughter from a cunning suitor, etc. He closes in to these victims and enlarges their angst against the objects of their rage. Their desire to kill will be awakened that they will go about with the deed, not realizing the wrongfulness of their actions. “X”—like any enraged and sadistic criminal—would have had the satisfaction without being convicted.

Poirot explains that all of us have the tendency to commit murder. There are people whom we would rather see out of this life. I suppose this is true for most people. Some would say “I’m so angry I could kill him!” or “I wish he were dead!” Personally, if you have a solid grounding on the importance and beauty of life and GOD’s law, you wouldn’t say these things. I think I’m getting personal with this novel—it’s just an entertainment story.

I understand that Christie made this novel before some other novels and intended it to be published as the last in her Poirot series. She even had the original manuscript to this novel locked away in a vault for 30 years, before being released. This was so the last novel of her series would continue to be published should she die in World War II. Although she did survive the London bombings, she still had Curtain released, as she no longer had the ability to write any new novels.

I am impressed by the dedication placed by Christie to her creation, Hercule Poirot. She really wanted her protagonist to have a grand, fitting ending. The fact that she came up with this murder mystery plot before other formulae added to my amazement. With that, Curtain is my new favorite Agatha Christie-Hercule Poirot murder mystery novel. It was just unfortunate that Poirot’s career had to end in such a final act. Never would I think that an angel of justice and captor of murderers would do that thing. But he died a little while after doing it, anyway. I have been thinking, what if Poirot succumbed to the manipulation of “X?” Would that mean that at the end of his career, Poirot lost his supposedly biggest case?

A Morte no Nilo, capa do Círculo do Livro

– Não creio que o sr. Pennington seja capaz de matar alguém. Ele me parece tão seco, tão gelado, como se não tivesse sangue nas veias…

– Creio que ele possui um forte instinto de preservação.

– Pode ser. E que diz da sra. Ottebourne, com seus ridículos turbantes ?

– Por vaidade…

– Vaidade ? Como motivo para um assassinato ? — perguntou a sra. Allerton, duvidando.

– Os motivos dos crimes são, às vezes, muito triviais, madame.

– Quais os mais comuns ?

– O dinheiro é o mais frequente. Isto é, o obtido das mais diferentes formas. E há a vingança… o amor, o medo, o ódio, a filantropia…

– M. Poirot !

– Não se espante, madame. Já vimos casos em que A matou B para que C pudesse lucrar. Se uma pessoa é considerada nociva para a civilização, sempre aparece alguém bem-intencionado para matá-la, esquecendo-se de que a morte e a vida são privilégios do bom Deus — concluiu Poirot, com gravidade.

(Trecho de “A Morte no Nilo” (1937), página 64, edição Círculo do Livro, tradução de Barbara Heliodora)

For those of you who actually follow this blog, and don’t just click on a link that happens to mention Robsten or the Twilight Saga, I’m sorry!  There’s not been much poetry over the last couple of days, but a lot of clicks.

Yes, I like the clicks.  (And, strangely, “Robsten” seems to generate a whole bunch more than, let’s say, “sestina.”)

But I want to explain to you (who may not understand why in the world I write about this stuff) that I truly am interested in a couple of facets of Twilight mania (besides each of Rob’s cheekbones.)

First:  despite all the poetry I’ve posted on this blog, I am mainly a fiction writer, primarily for children and young adults.  As a result, I am fascinated by the question of what makes people read a book again and again.  And I have to say (without mentioning anything about my own experience) that the Twilight mania proves Twilight et al. to be a set of those much re-read books.

It’s a given that books that generate this type of obsessive re-reading are not always particularly “good” books, i.e. well-written.  In fact, many “good” books, that is, really profound, original, heart-wrenching, or poetic books, are not the most dog-eared at the end of the day (or lifetime.)  It’s almost as if such books are too sharp, too bitter, too stinging, to be savored again and again (in the same way that grapefruit is not typically considered a comfort food.)

This is not to say that much re-read books are poorly written!  (Charlotte’s Web and  Harry Potter are much re-read great books.) Only that good writing alone does not make a book a good re-read.  (Nor does a good plot, good jokes, good suspense, even though one or more of these is likely to be present.)

So what does make a book a good re-read?

To me, the distinguishing factor is that the book creates characters with whom readers like to spend time, sometimes, too, a world in which readers like to spend time.

Reading a book is a commitment.  It means hours in which you are not conversing, i-ming, watching TV; hours, in other words, in which you are alone.  Sometimes, in fact, a book is a way to be alone, a path to privacy in a place with hard-to-place boundaries, such as a subway, or, if you are a child, a family dinner.

Because of the inherent solitude of reading, it is important that the main character is good company—fun, cool (but not too cool as to be unempathetic), willing to share confidences.  Being admirable is helpful too, as long as there are also sympathetic and/or humorous failings and idiosyncrasies.  (Sam Vines, Captain Carrot, Granny Weatherwax in Terry Pratchett, even Hercule Poirot in Agatha Christie.)

The world of a much re-read book can, of course, have its dark side.  But it is hard to repeatedly spend time in a world that is overwhelmingly creepy or frightening. (The Road, by Cormac McCarthy, and even Cold Mountain, by Charles Frazier, are obvious examples of wonderful books in which the worlds created, or re-created, are just too horrific to motivate re-reads.  On the children’s shelf, similarly, the later tomes of the wonderful, His Dark Materials by Phillip Pullman, that is, The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass, also, with the exception of certain scenes, get both too threatening and rarified for a child’s immediately repeated visits.)

Ideally, the created world, even if dark, has a fun, semi-magical side.  (Hogwarts, obviously; the barn in Charlotte’s Web, Florida, as seen by Carl Hiassen, Discworld, as envisioned by Terry Pratchett.)

Re-reading is a particular practice of the young and the young (or perhaps, immature) at heart who can repeatedly find sustenance in something that’s already well-digested.  (Sort of like baby penguins.)   This may be because the young (and not young, but immature) are themselves subject to (i) so much fluctuation, and (ii) so much beyond their control, that they find special comfort in the predictability of a “known” fiction.   The combination of the familiar with the fantastical may be especially appealing.

Romance makes a great re-read as well.   First love is a story that has been told again and again and again; is it any wonder that some people don’t mind re-reading the exact same version of it?

Which brings me back to Twilight.

Tomorrow or in the near future (if I get time),  I’ll write about the second facet that I find interesting—that is, what makes people re-see a movie, as opposed to re-read a book.

In the meantime, check out 1 Mississippi by Karin Gustafson on Amazon.

O Misterioso Caso de Styles - Agatha Christie

Há momentos em que é necessário confiar em si próprio.
Hastings

Ler Agatha Christie é se surpreender a cada final imprevisível e excitante. Agatha é autora de um total de 87 romances, 17 peças e outras histórias que assinava com seu pseudônimo Mary Westmacott, suas obras foram traduzidas para mais de 103 idiomas. Filha de um americano com uma inglesa, ela teve uma vida abastada, praticava piano e canto lírico na adolescência, mas não foi bem esse talento que a consagrou na literatura mundial. Tinha como passatempo a criação de histórias de crimes. Um dia Agatha aceitou o desafio da irmã, o de elaborar uma trama em que não fosse possível identificar o assassino até os últimos instantes da história. Desse desafio surgiu O Misterioso Caso de Styles [The Mysterious Affair at Styles, 1917].

Esse além de ser seu primeiro livro é também a estréia de seu mais famoso detetive, Hercule Poirot. Um belga pequeno e atarracado, com bigodes enormes, cabelos negros, um olhar minucioso, além de seu fino gosto por queijos, licores e perfumes. Poirot é inspirado num dos muitos refugiados políticos belgas que após a Primeira Guerra Mundial se instalaram na Inglaterra.

A Dama do Crime cria nesse romance uma trama em torno de uma casa, onde de início temos um assassinato e um gama de no mínimo oito suspeitos. Com sua habilidade de enganar já presente em seu primeiro livro, ela nos aponta os argumentos que incriminam cada suspeito, para depois justificar avidamente sua inocência, é com essa habilidade que Agatha consegue nos enganar e adiar até o fim o veredicto final e com isso a dita punição do réu. A história é narrada por Hastings o amigo inseparável de Poirot, e esse é notavelmente um ponto muito positivo porque permite esconder inferências do mistério que uma narração de Poirot permitiria que o leitor desvendasse facilmente.

Algo notável nas obras de Agatha é seu gosto por mortes súbitas com o uso de venenos e/ou medicamentos, que dão um quê de mistério. A autora chegou a trabalhar na Cruz Vermelha e isso pode tê-la apresentado a esse mundo de armas silenciosas. Com O Misterioso Caso de Styles não foi diferente, porém seu livro escrito em 1917 chegou a ser recusado por seis firmas, só encontrando um editor para publicação em 1921, algo que não chegou a acontecer em seus trabalhos posteriores, como seu segundo livro O Inimigo Secreto. Para concluir sua obra literária Agatha retorna a casa de Styles em seu último romance intitulado Cai o Pano.

Autora:

One morning, not so long ago, the husband went in to get the toddler up. As usual, she was treating us to a rendition of “Incy Wincy Spider”, one of her favourites at 6am (or earlier). Her version goes like this “Incy Wincy BIDER, climbs up the water BOUT, along came the WAIN, and washed poor Incy OUT!”. The last word is loud enough to be heard from 4 houses away I’m sure. Our poor, poor neighbours. But anyway, in he goes, one eye open and mumbling something about times when 6am was a late night rather than an early morning. I curl up and get ready to go back asleep for an hour or two (we take the 6am shift in turns). Next thing there’s a big roar out of him, “there’s blood everywhere!” he shouts “c’mere!”.

I duly hoist myself out of bed and waddle in. Sure enough, the blanket, the toddler’s pjs, her hair, and even the side of her face, are covered in blood. But there’s not a bother on the toddler herself. After a thorough examination, we find no cuts, and conclude that it’s certainly not toddler blood everywhere. The husband starts investigating. There’s blood on the cot, and streaks of blood on the door handle, so it’s apparent that a nocturnal visitor did the damage.

Leaving Hercule Poirot to it, I take the toddler into the bathroom to wash her, and happen to glance in the mirror. My entire face is streaked with blood! I have a look at my hands, they’re fine, but there’s a little bit on my wrist and up my arm. But I have no cuts anywhere? I go back into the bedroom and turn on the light… yes, spots of blood on the pillow and duvet. I summon Hercule, who still didn’t notice the blood on my face. (If he is to continue his career as a detective, he’d want to hone those observation skills). Once I point it out to him, we begin to piece the story together….

Like many pregnant women, I need to make regular visits to the loo at night. I have got so good at it, that I don’t even need lights, the whole process from leaving the bed, to handwashing, can be done with my eyes more or less shut. This is good, as lights cause two problems, firstly they can wake me up more than is necessary, so I get back into bed and start thinking about my credit card bill, and secondly they have the potential to wake the toddler… not often, but the fear is there.

Anyway, Hercule and I concluded that I had a nosebleed in the middle of the night. Nosebleeds, along with most other minor medical calamities that can befall a person, are a symptom of pregnancy. I must have woken up mid-bleed, and trotted to the loo as usual. When I got to the landing (wish we had an ensuite!) I must have veered into the toddler’s room to admire the sleeping child. While doing this, I bled all over her, her blanket, etc. etc. Then off I went to the loo. Washing my hands removed the blood from them, but my face and arms retained traces. I took myself back into my bloody bed then, and, due to the fact that no light woke me up properly, nodded quickly back off to sleep, until the dawn chorus of Incy Wincy BIDER a few hours later.

The other alternative, of course, is that some sort of injured ghostly phantom made its way into our home, and leant over the pregnant woman and child, leaving the husband alone, before heading back to whatever hellhole it came from. Possible I guess?

Din nou, astept pareri pentru partea a doua, ca la prima n-am prea primit Chiar mi-ar place sa imi spuneti ce credeti, si apreciez critica constructiva…

THE ARRIVAL

Our arrival at Willow Manor had been expected with enthusiasm. Apparently every living being at Kings Lynn had found out about Hercule Poirot, the greatest and most discreet detective in the world!

A butler was waiting for us at the front door. ‘Monsieur Poirot? This way.’ We followed him through the hall, up the stairs and into a study, where a tall, dark-haired man was reading in front of the fireplace. When he turned  to see who entered the room, we saw his cadaverous face and his white skin, which contrastated enourmously with his cheerful voice.

‘Oh, Poirot! How long has it been since that affair? Three years? Five? What a joy to see you!’

‘Cher Roger! Indeed, it has been five years since our last meeting! How are you? How is your daughter? Josephine, if I remember correctly?’, greeted my Poirot back happily.

‘Ah, she’s doing fine. Just came out of Eton! Well, now, maybe you’ll introduce me to Captain Hastings? Then I’ll lead you to the drawing room, to meet the rest of the party.

‘Very well then. As you already know, this is Captain Hastings, one of my oldest friends and my associates. Hastings, this is Roger Chiswick.’ Poirot was very excited, I could tell. I assumed that Roger had been more of a friend than a simple aquaintance to him.

After having been properly introduced, Roger led us downstair and into the drawing-room. Two charming girls, a rather old general and a young man who appeared to be his secretary were playing bridge. Two elderly ladies were talking outside the big french windows and a man in his thirties was studying some papers. They all turned towards us when we entered the room. Roger Chiswick spoke:

‘My dear friends, may I tell you that our guest has arrived – Hercule Poirot!’ and made a dramatic gesture as my friend bowed.

One of the girls, with flaming red hair and delicate and yet full of vitality features exclaimed:

‘I can’t believe you’re actually here, Monsieur Poirot! Finally, I get the chance to meet you – after all I’ve heard about you!’

She came to us. ‘I’m Lily Dervandt, Duchess van der Hausen.’, she introduced herself with a very voluptous voice.

‘Hercule Poirot. Ah, but it is my pleasure, Miss Dervandt.’

The others followed the Duchess’ example. The other girl, with wavy dark hair and green, cat-like (and Poirot-like) eyes was Josephine Chiswick, Roger’s daughter. The older ladies were Lady Malroft, wife of the old General Malroft and her companion, Mrs. Evelyn Carter, who was a rather distant relative of the former’s husband. The secretary’s name was Ashington, William Ashington, and the other man was Thomas Worley, Chiswick’s secretary.

When we finished introducing ourselves, a bell rang. ‘Tea-time!’, announced Mrs. Carter. We all hurried into the sitting-room. I sat down with General Malroft, whom I took the liberty of categorizing as an old dodderer. Poirot on the other hand had the pleasure of talking to the charming Duchess. They were discussing about dutch nobles.

‘…Yes, I have found the Countess of Baern’s black pearls.’

‘I understood they were stolen by her latest husband, weren’t they, Monsieur Poirot? Never, but never do I trust these dramatic leapings of 18-year-olds into my arms. They are all after my money… ’

‘You are perfectly right, mademoiselle.’

‘Another friend of mine,  Duchess Manderhaagen, who is rather old and of course looking for true love, but still shouldn’t be fooling around with such young and greedy adventurers – especially that one of hers; I could clearly read in his eyes he was after her manor at the Northern Sea, but naturally she wouldn’t listen to anything against dear Carl. Anyway, she left all her fortune to him. Barely had the time to make a new will, when she caught him stealing 1000 ₤ from her on a trip to England. He tried to poison her, but gave up the idea when he realised everything would have been in vain.’

I gathered the Duchess was pretty talkative. In any case, Poirot had a sort of gift that made people talk.

Later on, we wandered about the estate. It was huge indeed. Poirot insisted to go to the lake, I suspect because there were benches there.

‘Quite an interesting mix we have there!’ I said, hoping to attract Poirot into a conversation – he had been suspiciously silent since we had left.

‘Yes, yes, quite.’

‘What’s bothering you, Poirot? I couldn’t help noticing you did not for once critisize the English weather.’ I tried again.

‘Duchess van der Hausen. At the very beginning, she seemed to be an intelligent woman, but then she started doddering like an old countryside widow.’ Poirot replied. He seemed to talk to himself more than to me, so I didn’t continue. We got up and went back to the manor in time for dinner.

]]> http://adventureswithagatha.wordpress.com/2009/10/18/appointment-with-death/ Sun, 18 Oct 2009 15:16:11 +0000 the ginger cat http://adventureswithagatha.wordpress.com/2009/10/18/appointment-with-death/

10 Dagger Rating

How’s this for a grabbing opening line: “You do see, don’t you, that she’s got to be killed?” The question floated out into the still night air, seemed to hang there a moment and then drift away down into the darkness toward the Dead Sea. Hercule Poirot paused with his hand on the window catch. Frowning, he shut it decisively, thereby excluding any injurious night air!”

Written in 1938, this Christie mystery centers around a family on holiday together in Jerusalem, apparently bound together by their shared hatred for the “monstrous and evil” Mrs. Boynton, the matriarch. What a bond!

Knowing a bit about Agatha Christies life, I’m especially intrigued with the stories set in and around the Middle Eastern part of the world. She was married to Max Mallowen, a well known archaeologist, and traveled to this part of the world many times with him. I have it on good authority that Agatha had ‘killed off’ tiresome or annoying people who she had met along her life, or rather, done away with their fictionalized counterparts! As I read, I try to envision which of the blousy, egocentric characters these might be. With a poison pen in hand, it might be a bit intimidating to meet her, never knowing if you were going to be the next victim!

So, back to the book.  Our heroine, a Miss Sarah King, has traveled to Jerusalem on holiday after finishing her degree in the study of medicine.  She is befriended, and ogled, by an older Frenchman, a  well known doctor who has dabbled in the field of Psychiatry, also visiting the Middle East for a tour of sites and some local color.  The two form a kinship over their observances of a bizarre family, the Boyntons.  They watch in growing discomfort as the toady, obese, bug-evil-eyed Mrs. Boynton sadistically and controllingly order around her grown stepchildren (Lennox, Raymond and Clare) and her daughter (Gineva. ) Some vacation!  They flit and follow and flinch according to the verbal and nonverbal commands of the matriarch of the family, who is described by Christie to perfection!  Woe to the offspring who dare to disobey her, with cardinal familial sins compiled of speaking to strangers, wandering away from the fold, making friends, or, gasp, falling in love.  (cue Miss Sarah King, please)   Lennox is married to Nadine, who appears to follow the marching orders of her former-prison warden mother in law, but is brimming to the point of boiling as the family treks from one tourist spot to the next. 

Also along for the holiday is Nadine’s former beau, a hapless fellow who doesn’t quite see the mind games as clearly as the two psych specialists do, though he clearly represents an easy escape for Nadine, whose husband is now beyond the point of breaking loose, so lost in obeisence to his evil stepmother.

Companions also include a puffy, egotistical, monologist Lady (took over her husbands seat in Parliament as she wore britches better than he did), a little spinster type who carries around a romance novel, and M. Hercule Poirot.

As the cozy group meets in an offsite, tented red city, Mrs. Boynton, in an incredulous move, sets the ‘children’ free for the afternoon (for the first time in their lives, and come on, most of them are well into their 20s), while she remains in her temporary domain (inexplicably, a cave) to read and rest.

What the party finds upon their return shouldn’t be a shock…as, just about everyone in this motley crew wanted her dead.

Das Haus an der Düne ist einer der erfolgreichsten Romane der Crime Queen.
Hercule Poirot macht Urlaub und er will sich nicht wieder um einen Fall kümmern.
Da taucht eine junge Frau auf und stolpert. Zum Glück und schon ist der nächste Fall für den Meisterdetektiv da.
Denn die junge Dame erzählt von kleinen fast tödlichen Unglücksfällen.
Außerdem wurde auf sie geschossen als sie vor Poirot stolperte. Und das nimmt der Detektiv übel.
Zusammen mit seinem treuen Gefährten deckt er eine perfiden Mordplan auf.
Doch bevor er durch sieht gibt es eine Frauenleiche und der Meisterdetektiv scheint seinen Meister gefunden zu haben.
Bis ja bis….

Mehr sei nicht verraten.
Wie die meisten Romane von Agatha Christie liest sich auch dieser Roman sehr flüssig und man ist doch immer wieder überrascht, wie die Meisterin
der verwickelten Kriminalfälle ihre Leser an der Nase herumführt.
Wir als Leser sind natürlich wieder Hastings. Wir tappen am Ende meistens im Dunkel.
Allerdings muss ich zu meiner ehre sagen, daß die Idee zur Lösung des Fall bei mir in der Mitte kam.
Warum ? Keine Ahnung.

Wenn man wie ich schon eine ganze Reihe von Romanen der Autorin gelesen hat, dann sind nicht alle Romane immer so gut wie sie scheinen.
Dieser Roman gehört für mich ins Mittelfeld.
Aber immer noch besser als Unmassen von anderen Krimis die sich heute auf den Markt tummeln.

Note: 2-

Anmerkung: Das Titelbild entspricht nicht meinem. Habe Ausgabe in der Reihe DIE OFFIZIELLE AGATHA CHRISTIE SAMMLUNG mit Magazin. Etwas teuer aber sehr gut gemacht besonders das Magazin mit Hintergrundberichten ist das Geld wert.