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kavreb 's review for:
The Mysterious Affair at Styles
by Agatha Christie
I can quite see why it went on to influence a whole genre, and I cannot deny the personal appeal of a cozy country house murder mystery; but unfortunately it also has a habit of dragging, especially in the chapters nearing the end where I wished we'd just be done with all the (probable) red herrings and got down to the business of the final showdown.
It's good luck (and good writing) that the showdown in they penultimate chapter is then indeed so absorbing and intellectually invigorating that it's easy to forgive any dalliances; and while Christie does ‘cheat’ a bit, revealing only then some information we had no way of knowing beforehand, I still had a moment where I paused the recording to try to figure something out, and had a moment of pleasure when I was proven right upon resuming; and the final solution is as nifty and delightful as you can expect from the criminally mischievous mind of the Agatha Christie we know and love. Although re-explaining the whole thing in the ultimate chapter does drag a bit, and undermines all that “feeling a satisfaction with one's intelligence” part; but the tying up of personal relationships, if expectedly heteronormative, was rather delightful (as was the pervy fool Hastings getting his due), and sometime all’s well that ends well, especially a quaint little old country house murder mystery.
My anti-rich heart does roil a bit at the extravagance & presumed loftiness of the setting, but unfortunately it does tend to be too easy to forgive any indications of classism in these novels, where being poor means you can’t afford as many servants as you were used to and you spend most of your days scratching the leg of your richest aunt. If you, the reader, are not willing to accept some cosying up to the rich & powerful & often dumb, better look elsewhere than the popular writings of the time, especially the country house murder genre. As for me, seeing my favourite side-characters end up together offered me more joy than was appropriate. Oh well, such are the times, such is the life.
Oh, and Poirot is such a joy, already right out the door, even with his weirdest outbursts. And it's pretty much uphill from here, right up to the door of David Suchet.
It's good luck (and good writing) that the showdown in they penultimate chapter is then indeed so absorbing and intellectually invigorating that it's easy to forgive any dalliances; and while Christie does ‘cheat’ a bit, revealing only then some information we had no way of knowing beforehand, I still had a moment where I paused the recording to try to figure something out, and had a moment of pleasure when I was proven right upon resuming; and the final solution is as nifty and delightful as you can expect from the criminally mischievous mind of the Agatha Christie we know and love. Although re-explaining the whole thing in the ultimate chapter does drag a bit, and undermines all that “feeling a satisfaction with one's intelligence” part; but the tying up of personal relationships, if expectedly heteronormative, was rather delightful (as was the pervy fool Hastings getting his due), and sometime all’s well that ends well, especially a quaint little old country house murder mystery.
My anti-rich heart does roil a bit at the extravagance & presumed loftiness of the setting, but unfortunately it does tend to be too easy to forgive any indications of classism in these novels, where being poor means you can’t afford as many servants as you were used to and you spend most of your days scratching the leg of your richest aunt. If you, the reader, are not willing to accept some cosying up to the rich & powerful & often dumb, better look elsewhere than the popular writings of the time, especially the country house murder genre. As for me, seeing my favourite side-characters end up together offered me more joy than was appropriate. Oh well, such are the times, such is the life.
Oh, and Poirot is such a joy, already right out the door, even with his weirdest outbursts. And it's pretty much uphill from here, right up to the door of David Suchet.