I read a bunch of Agatha Christie novels when I was in junior high and high school, beginning with THE BODY IN THE LIBRARY, which I checked out of the school library when I was in the sixth grade. (Just for the record, that’s the same year I read GOLDFINGER by Ian Fleming and THE DEEP by Mickey Spillane. My reading tastes were nothing if not varied.) At any rate, my favorites of Christie’s work have always been the Hercule Poirot novels. There are a number of them I’ve never read, so I pick one up now and then and revisit an old friend.
Which brings us to PERIL AT END HOUSE, originally published in 1932. It’s the
sixth novel in the series, and as it opens, Poirot is already talking about
being retired. He and Captain Hastings, his friend/Watson/narrator, are
vacationing at a resort hotel on the southern coast of England. Visible from
the hotel’s terrace is a big, old house set on a point of land that juts out
into the sea. That’s the End House of the title, of course. On a pleasant
afternoon, Poirot and Hastings are sitting on the terrace when they see an
attractive young woman cutting through the garden between the hotel and End
House. Then somebody takes a shot at her, narrowly missing her. She doesn’t
even realize how close she has come to death, but Poirot does, and when he
questions her, he discovers that this is the fourth attempt on her life in as
many days.
Well, Poirot can’t stand to see such villainy right under his mustaches, of course, so he sets out to discover who wants the young woman dead. That leads him and Hastings into a complex plot involving drugs, a missing will, fireworks, poisoned chocolates, a secret chamber, a large fortune, a séance, and, naturally, murder.
Christie is famous for her plotting, and justly so, but I’ll be honest, I figured out all but a few details in this one well before the end, including the murderer’s identity. That didn’t really detract from my enjoyment of the book, though. Christie writes really well, with good characterizations, some sharp social commentary (her books are usually considerably darker than what you think of when you think about cozy mysteries), and a really fast pace, especially when you consider the fact that the books consist mainly of people standing around talking to each other. (There’s a little action, and some books have more of it than others.) The banter between Poirot and Hastings always leaves me feeling a little sorry for Hastings, but at the same time you get a sense of the deep friendship between the two of them.
I had a really good time reading PERIL AT END HOUSE. It took me back to those long-ago days when I was devouring Christie novels. I may just read more of them. The past is looking more and more appealing to me.
2 comments:
I agree with you. I remember PERIL AT END HOUSE as the first time I figured out the murderer in a Christie novel well before the end, a twist she used more than once. We are watching the entire AGATHA CHRISTIE'S POIROT series with David Suchet on Acorn - one each Saturday night - and remembered every detail of this one when we watched it a couple of months ago. Yes, poor old Hastings is surely among the dimmest of Watsons, always more concerned with cars and golf than anything else, and readily taken in by every red herring. But he means well.
Nice review. I agree with all of your points. After reading a few Christies here and there, I started reading last year from the beginning and going in chronological order. I'm having a great time with them. I finished End House about a month ago. After each Poirot or Marple story I pop in the DVD and watch that same story. That's been fun too.
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