Sunday, February 23, 2014

Rashmi bookmarks “The Mysterious Affair at Styles”


Set at Styles Court, an Essex country manor, this is Agatha Christie’s first published novel, and introduces the one and only Hercule Poirot. (Interestingly enough, the saga of Poirot comes full circle, as Styles is also the setting of “Curtain”, Poirot’s last case).

My entire childhood consisted primarily of reading, and while I am terribly fond of many writers and their works, growing up, I went through three phases in particular - Enid Blyton, Agatha Christie and P. G. Wodehouse; I mean I read (and re-read) everything that these authors ever wrote.

In this first ever creation by Christie, I recently re-visited that brilliant unfolding of mystery/crime writing that very few people can even attempt to imitate. Wealthy widow Emily Cavendish marries a much younger man, Alfred Inglethorp, whom everybody in the family immediately dismisses as a fortune hunter; a suspicion which appears to be justly based, when she is killed by strychnine poisoning. Enter Poirot, who meticulously (of course!) goes through all visible clues and invisible events to recreate the fateful day.

As far as the characters go, I have to say, I really liked how everyone is so believable, so tangible. It not only adds a lot to the reading experience when you empathize with a person so completely, the final denouement also comes as a greater shock when someone you were with all along, is revealed to be a killer.

The best part of this story - as with all of Christie’s storytelling - was that we are privy to all the clues all along, just like everyone in the story. Nothing is ever a secret, closely-guarded till the grand reveal - no, we are always given equal opportunity along with the characters themselves, to work it all out. And that is truly brilliant - to show all your cards right from the start, and still pull the rug from under the reader’s feet.

The final revelation came as quite a shock … I did suspect the person at one point; then again, other than Poirot and Hastings, at regular intervals I suspected everyone, so I guess that’s really not saying much.

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