Take a photo of a barcode or cover
robertncook 's review for:
The Big Four
by Agatha Christie
There is an understanding among modern writers that strong suspense relies on uncertainty: there is much that characters do not know, and the audience is only slightly ahead of them, if ahead at all.
Agatha Christie’s narrative style, when it comes to Poirot at least, relies on the audience guessing at what the characters already know, using subtle hints and outside knowledge; characters then explain things later. While this certainly works well for whodunnits, it takes a large amount of the thrill out of the international intrigue thriller.
I read this book specifically because of its reputation for being one of the worst works of a genre-defining author, and it lives up to the reputation. It is an excellent example of how not to write an intrigue novel.
Don’t get me wrong; by most metrics, it is a well-written book: themes and characters are consistent, methodologies, twists, and surprises are all foreshadowed with plenty of notice, and the rhythm and choice of words provides a consistent and easy-to-follow cadence that evidences a mastery of the art. The chapter-to-chapter connections are fairly disjointed, but this is the only other serious gripe. Even Christie’s excellent grip on scientific development is par for the course (Poirot regularly references the technology we now know as laser cutters and microwave guns as being in his enemy’s arsenal, even if we do not see them, decades before their invention).
But ultimately, this was intended to be a thriller, and ultimately it falls flat: the audience is not privy to the minds behind the chess game, only the moves, and only after they are made. There is no suspense, only a report of the events.
Agatha Christie’s narrative style, when it comes to Poirot at least, relies on the audience guessing at what the characters already know, using subtle hints and outside knowledge; characters then explain things later. While this certainly works well for whodunnits, it takes a large amount of the thrill out of the international intrigue thriller.
I read this book specifically because of its reputation for being one of the worst works of a genre-defining author, and it lives up to the reputation. It is an excellent example of how not to write an intrigue novel.
Don’t get me wrong; by most metrics, it is a well-written book: themes and characters are consistent, methodologies, twists, and surprises are all foreshadowed with plenty of notice, and the rhythm and choice of words provides a consistent and easy-to-follow cadence that evidences a mastery of the art. The chapter-to-chapter connections are fairly disjointed, but this is the only other serious gripe. Even Christie’s excellent grip on scientific development is par for the course (Poirot regularly references the technology we now know as laser cutters and microwave guns as being in his enemy’s arsenal, even if we do not see them, decades before their invention).
But ultimately, this was intended to be a thriller, and ultimately it falls flat: the audience is not privy to the minds behind the chess game, only the moves, and only after they are made. There is no suspense, only a report of the events.