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A review by bunnieslikediamonds
An Autobiography by Agatha Christie
3.0
The world changed quite a bit between 1890 and 1965, the period covered by Christie's autobiography. Not only did she live through two world wars, but witnessed enormous social and cultural progress - and decline, as far as she was concerned. She lightheartedly recounts the small and large events of her life, and these anecdotes are alternately hair-raising and refreshing. The tone is chatty, her observations about life are interesting, and I found myself engaged in lively conversations with her.
The Victorians looked dispassionately at their offspring and made up their minds about their capacities. A. was obviously going to be 'the pretty one'. B. was the 'clever one'. C. was going to be plain and was definitely not intellectual. [---] There is an enourmous relief in not being expected to produce something that you haven't got.
I quite agree. Not everyone can be a special little snowflake.
The position of women, over the years, has definitely changed for the worse. We women have behaved like mugs. We have clamored to be allowed to work as men work. Men, not being fools, have taken kindly to the idea. Why support a wife?
Well, Agatha, I can think of a few upsides to this. Say, if your husband, disappointed that you haven't been able to give him your full attention due to grieving your dead mother, has an affair and leaves you, it might be helpul to be able to support yourself and your child. By writing detective novels, for instance. Of course, you could just drive off, ditch your car and check into a hotel incognito for ten days and watch the nation suspect your spouse of murder. That wasn't a great marriage, huh?
A woman, when she married, accepted as her destiny his place in the world and his way of life. That seems to me sound sense and the foundation of happiness. If you can't face your man's way of life, don't take that job - in other words, don't marry the man.
Yes, I suppose if you're going to be entirely dependent on your man, that makes sense. Do you happen to know a fellow with a huge library and a kennel of golden retrievers? Labradors would also do nicely. And also, he'd have to be well-built and easy on the eyes. You know what I'm talking about, you were quite the maneater!
Those were still great days for the purity of young girls. I do not think we felt in the least repressed because of it. Romantic friendships, tinged certainly with sex or the possibility of sex, satisfied us completely..
Oh please, I've seen those pics of Archibald in a bathing suit. I KNOW you wanted to hit that. Why else hurry to marry a man who clearly warned you not to count on him in bad times? What was it he told you when he asked for a divorce?
He said: "I told you once, long ago, that I hate it when people are ill or unhappy - it spoils everything for me."
Ah, right. What a dreamboat. But you did get on all right by yourself, didn't you? You have some great skills, no?
What can I do? Well, I can write. I could be a reasonable musician, but not a professional one. I can improvise things when in difficulties - this has been a most useful accomplishment; the things I can do with hairpins and safety pins when in domestic difficulties would surprise you.
Do tell!
It was I who fashioned bread into a sticky pill, stuck it on a hairpin, attached the hairpin with sealing wax on the end of a window pole, and managed to pick up my mother's false teeth from where they had fallen on to the conservatory roof! I successfully chloroformed a hedgehog that was entangled in the tennis net and so managed to release it. An so on and so forth.
That's, er, very impressive. How did your mother manage to drop her - oh never mind. So anyway, then you met that young archeologist who had to talk you into marrying him?
I walked on the moor and had fits of occasional misery when I thought I was doing the wrong thing and ruining Max's life.
Oh no. Just because he was younger? But it turned out well, didn't it? He at least held your hair when you were puking your guts out, which, I have to say, you did a lot. Gosh, I'm sorry, I haven't asked you about your work. Writing all those mystery novels, how has that affected you?
As a result of writing crime books one becomes interested in criminology. I am particularly interested in reading books by those who have been in contact with criminals, especially those who have tried to benefit them or find ways of what one would have called in the old days 'reforming' them - for which I imagine one uses far more grand terms nowadays!
I guess we'd call it rehabilitation. What are your thoughts on that?
What can one do with a killer? Not imprisonment for life - that surely is far more cruel than the cup of hemlock in ancient Greece. The best answer we ever found, I suspect, was transportation.
Really? I think Australia is out of the question these days. But surely a criminal might be rehabilitated?
The only hope, it seems to me, would be to sentence such a creature to compulsory service for the benefit of the community in general.
I see what you mean. Community work, I quite agree.
You might allow your criminal the choice between the cup of hemlock and offering himself for experimental research, for instance.
Wait, that's not what I meant! And enough with the hemlock!
There are many fields of research especially in medicine and healing, where a human subject is vitally necessary - animals will not do. At present, it seems to me, the scientist himself, a devoted researcher, risks his own life, but there could be human guinea-pigs, who accepted a certain period of experiment in lieu of death, and who, if they survived it, would then have redeemed themselves, and could go forth free men, with the mark of Cain removed from their foreheads.
Human guinea-pigs, huh? Transportation actually isn't such a bad idea. Listen, it truly was a pleasure chatting with you but I gotta run. Bye now!
The Victorians looked dispassionately at their offspring and made up their minds about their capacities. A. was obviously going to be 'the pretty one'. B. was the 'clever one'. C. was going to be plain and was definitely not intellectual. [---] There is an enourmous relief in not being expected to produce something that you haven't got.
I quite agree. Not everyone can be a special little snowflake.
The position of women, over the years, has definitely changed for the worse. We women have behaved like mugs. We have clamored to be allowed to work as men work. Men, not being fools, have taken kindly to the idea. Why support a wife?
Well, Agatha, I can think of a few upsides to this. Say, if your husband, disappointed that you haven't been able to give him your full attention due to grieving your dead mother, has an affair and leaves you, it might be helpul to be able to support yourself and your child. By writing detective novels, for instance. Of course, you could just drive off, ditch your car and check into a hotel incognito for ten days and watch the nation suspect your spouse of murder. That wasn't a great marriage, huh?
A woman, when she married, accepted as her destiny his place in the world and his way of life. That seems to me sound sense and the foundation of happiness. If you can't face your man's way of life, don't take that job - in other words, don't marry the man.
Yes, I suppose if you're going to be entirely dependent on your man, that makes sense. Do you happen to know a fellow with a huge library and a kennel of golden retrievers? Labradors would also do nicely. And also, he'd have to be well-built and easy on the eyes. You know what I'm talking about, you were quite the maneater!
Those were still great days for the purity of young girls. I do not think we felt in the least repressed because of it. Romantic friendships, tinged certainly with sex or the possibility of sex, satisfied us completely..
Oh please, I've seen those pics of Archibald in a bathing suit. I KNOW you wanted to hit that. Why else hurry to marry a man who clearly warned you not to count on him in bad times? What was it he told you when he asked for a divorce?
He said: "I told you once, long ago, that I hate it when people are ill or unhappy - it spoils everything for me."
Ah, right. What a dreamboat. But you did get on all right by yourself, didn't you? You have some great skills, no?
What can I do? Well, I can write. I could be a reasonable musician, but not a professional one. I can improvise things when in difficulties - this has been a most useful accomplishment; the things I can do with hairpins and safety pins when in domestic difficulties would surprise you.
Do tell!
It was I who fashioned bread into a sticky pill, stuck it on a hairpin, attached the hairpin with sealing wax on the end of a window pole, and managed to pick up my mother's false teeth from where they had fallen on to the conservatory roof! I successfully chloroformed a hedgehog that was entangled in the tennis net and so managed to release it. An so on and so forth.
That's, er, very impressive. How did your mother manage to drop her - oh never mind. So anyway, then you met that young archeologist who had to talk you into marrying him?
I walked on the moor and had fits of occasional misery when I thought I was doing the wrong thing and ruining Max's life.
Oh no. Just because he was younger? But it turned out well, didn't it? He at least held your hair when you were puking your guts out, which, I have to say, you did a lot. Gosh, I'm sorry, I haven't asked you about your work. Writing all those mystery novels, how has that affected you?
As a result of writing crime books one becomes interested in criminology. I am particularly interested in reading books by those who have been in contact with criminals, especially those who have tried to benefit them or find ways of what one would have called in the old days 'reforming' them - for which I imagine one uses far more grand terms nowadays!
I guess we'd call it rehabilitation. What are your thoughts on that?
What can one do with a killer? Not imprisonment for life - that surely is far more cruel than the cup of hemlock in ancient Greece. The best answer we ever found, I suspect, was transportation.
Really? I think Australia is out of the question these days. But surely a criminal might be rehabilitated?
The only hope, it seems to me, would be to sentence such a creature to compulsory service for the benefit of the community in general.
I see what you mean. Community work, I quite agree.
You might allow your criminal the choice between the cup of hemlock and offering himself for experimental research, for instance.
Wait, that's not what I meant! And enough with the hemlock!
There are many fields of research especially in medicine and healing, where a human subject is vitally necessary - animals will not do. At present, it seems to me, the scientist himself, a devoted researcher, risks his own life, but there could be human guinea-pigs, who accepted a certain period of experiment in lieu of death, and who, if they survived it, would then have redeemed themselves, and could go forth free men, with the mark of Cain removed from their foreheads.
Human guinea-pigs, huh? Transportation actually isn't such a bad idea. Listen, it truly was a pleasure chatting with you but I gotta run. Bye now!