Murder, she wrote

The spirit of Agatha Christie lives on…in a new Hercule Poirot book by Sophie Hannah

It probably marks me out as irredeemably middle-brow, but I am a complete and utter devotee of Agatha Christie. The queen of the intricately-plotted murder mystery, Christie is a past mistress of setting the scene just so, littering the story with red herrings, before pulling together all the clues (and false clues) together in a denouement that I never ever saw coming. I read my first Christie when I was still at school, and ever since, I pull out her books every couple of years or so to re-read them, just so that I can experience once again the thrill that I felt when I first came upon them. And Christie, bless her dear departed soul, never disappoints.

Of the two staples of her fiction, I always preferred Hercule Poirot, the quirky, eccentric, French-expostulating, terrifying bright, and brilliantly (or should that be Brilliantined?) moustachioed Belgian detective, to the English spinster, Miss Marple, whose inquisitive disposition and propensity to meddle made me feel positively squeamish on occasion. So, you can imagine my delight when I read that Hercule Poirot was being brought back to life by the Christie estate, with his new adventure being assigned to the British writer, Sophie Hannah, who is quite the dab hand at writing psychological crime thrillers.

I have been a fan of Hannah as well, though she doesn’t inspire the same devotion as Christie, but I wasn’t quite sure if she could bring the spirit of Christie and the personality of Poirot come alive once again on paper. Well, I have just finished reading The Monogram Murders (as it always is with every ‘Agatha Christie’, in one greedy gulp) and I am happy to report that, for the most part, Hannah succeeds very well indeed.

The turning-and-twisting plot is worthy of Christie herself, the portrayal of Hercule Poirot is dead-on (is it just me who can never read the name without conjuring up the image of David Suchet in my head?), and Hannah – a big Christie fan herself – does a splendid job of conjuring up the atmosphere of England between the two wars, a society in flux in which the old moral certainties are fraying rapidly. Where she fails is in replicating the classic simplicity of a Christie whodunit. The devices are all intact but the plot is much too convoluted and the denouement stretches credulity a tad. That said, I was glad to have read the book and sad when it finished – which is sometimes all you can ask of a novel.

But would the story have worked just as well if the detective had been an Italian called Gianni Pirelli? And if the only author credited was Sophie Hannah? Yes, it would. And perhaps it would have worked better because the reader wouldn’t constantly be referencing Agatha Christie in his or her head.

Which brings me to this week’s question: does it make sense to rework old classics by having them reinvented by new authors? Or should we leave them well alone?

Speaking for myself, I always believed that classics were best left well alone. If you needed to tell a story, why not do it with through characters that you had dreamed up? Why cannibalize those that had their birth in other people’s imaginations?

What made me change my mind was P.D. James’s homage to Pride and Prejudice, a murder mystery called Death Comes to Pemberley. This opens six years after the protagonists of Jane Austen’s magnum opus, Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy, have married and settled down to blissful matrimony in their sprawling Derbyshire estate, Pemberley. They are all set to host the autumn ball when an ugly, violent death intrudes upon their perfect ordered world.

Like all P.D. James’s suspense thrillers, this one was immaculately crafted as well, but what brought particular pleasure to an Austen fan like me was the glimpse into the married life of Mr and Mrs Darcy, now the proud parents of two young boys. For all of us who wonder what happens after the happily ever after, this was a big bonus, indeed.

For some reason, of all of Austen’s novels, Pride and Prejudice is the one that exercises the maximum hold on our hearts. But even so, it took particular guts and an amazing leap of imagination for Jo Baker to write Longbourn, the book that tells us the story of the servants who served the Bennet household. And it worked because Baker didn’t just indulge in Upstairs-Downstairs conceit, but instead fleshed out the staff as living, breathing characters with stories of their own (though I still haven’t forgiven her for the needless calumny heaped on poor, old Mr Bennet – no sorry, I’m not telling, you’ll just have to find out for yourself!)   

But while these may be triumphs of imagination over hope, do all such recastings of old classics work? I have never been a fan of Ian Fleming – or James Bond, for that matter – but those who love the spy with a license to kill tell me that William Boyd’s recreation of James Bond is immeasurably superior to that of Jeffrey Deaver’s.

For my part, I have just discovered Jill Paton Walsh’s resurrection of those legendary characters of detective fiction, Lord Peter Wimsey (later the Duke of Denver) and Harriet Vane, created by the inimitable Dorothy L Sayers. And I have a horrid suspicion that they are going to keep terribly busy in the foreseeable future.

Reading List

Here’s a handy list of my top reads last year: try them if you haven’t; you won’t regret it

If you are a regular reader of this column then you know by now that books are my drug of choice. There is nothing quite as wonderful as discovering a brand-new writer, except perhaps discovering a new book by an old favourite. And there is nothing more comforting that finding solace between the pages of a tried-and-tested comfort read when you are feeling low.

Over the last year, I have had my fill of both new writers and old favourites. And yes, I have revisited many classics as well, in the hope of discovering something new in them. But here, for your benefit, is the list of my best reads of 2013.

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

This was by far one of the best thrillers I have read in a long time. The story unravels through the first person accounts of the two protagonists: the husband whose wife has gone missing; and the diary entries of the ‘gone girl’. But as the tale unfolds, it becomes clear that nothing is quite as it seems. Since I hate spoilers of any kind, I won’t say much more than assure you that this is a book like no other. If you haven’t read it yet, then do so NOW.

The Silent Wife by ASA Harrison

Another psychological portrayal of a marriage that isn’t quite what it seems, and in fact, turns out not to be a marriage at all. The characters are acutely drawn, the plot moves forwards slowly but menacingly, and the ‘silent wife’ of the title proves that old adage of still waters running deep.

Longbourn by Jo Baker

I am generally not hot on conceits like rewriting an old classic from the viewpoint of a different character. But I have to say that Jo Baker has pulled off a cracker of a novel, retelling Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice from the viewpoint of the servants of the Bennet household. The maid, Sarah, is the central character, whose most memorable line is that Miss Elizabeth would be more careful of her petticoats if she had to wash them herself! A brilliant retelling of a classic; which should become a classic in its own time.

The Cuckoo’s Calling by Robert Galbraith (aka J.K. Rowling)

Confession time: I first read The Cuckoo’s Calling before J.K. Rowling had been outed as its author. And while it was a good enough story, I have to admit that I didn’t think Robert Galbraith was going to be the next Harlan Coben or even Lee Child. After the author’s identity was revealed, I re-read it. And no, I didn’t change my mind. This was a good enough book as far as murder mysteries go, but  ‘Robert Galbraith’ still has a long way to go.

Just One Evil Act by Elizabeth George

I really don’t know how she does it. But with every novel in her Inspector Lynley series, Elizabeth George manages to up her game just a little. This, the latest in the series, has Barbara Havers at the centre while Lynley plays a sort of supporting role. Set in Italy, the story gallops forwards furiously, taking twists and turns when you least expect them, the characters evolve in ways you could barely imagine, and in true Elizabeth George fashion, the ending is far from the happily-ever-after variety.

The English Girl by Daniel Silva

Yes, I know. Daniel Silva has gone a tad formulaic on us. But I guess that’s a risk you run when you have the same hero, Israeli agent Gabriel Allon, and are committed to churning out a potboiler every year. So, this book has much the same elements. Allon is put into impossible situations and manages to fight his way out, and save the world while he is at it. But that said, the book is a page-turner, the kind that will keep you up till 3 am, as you read on to find out what happens next.

Mapping The Edge by Sarah Dunant

I have to admit that I had mixed feelings about this one. It started off well, but then got a bit too clever by half, and two-thirds into the narrative, I was more confused than ever. But despite my reservations, I am glad that I read it. Dunant attempts the brave – even impossible, some might say – feat of offering two alternatives to a woman’s abduction without ever indicating where the truth actually lies. But while her writing is, for the most part, assured, there is a real sense in which the reader ends up feeling manipulated by her trickery. Well, at least, I did. You can read it and make up your own mind.

The Golden Egg by Donna Leon

There is something ineffably soothing about the gentle pace of Donna Leon’s murder mysteries. She spends as much time evoking the spirit of Venice, describing the family life of her hero, Guido Brunetti and his wife Paola, detailing the meals they eat and the wine they drink, the books they read, as she does investigating the death that is at the heart of the story. This book is no different, with the story telling us as much about the corruption at the core of Venetian society, as it does about the murder itself. If you haven’t read her, you should start now. (But remember to start at the beginning, and work your way through the 17 or so books she has written.)