The Indefatigable Hercule Poirot

In the Agatha Christie's Poirot episode "The Adventure of the Clapham Cook," Hercule Poirot and his friend Captain Hastings journey by train to Keswick, a town in the Lake District of England.  From the train station in Keswick, they trek across the land, and up and down the gently rolling fells (or hills), until they reach the remote cottage where Eliza Dunn now lives. 

Many see Poirot as someone who would prefer to sit in his apartment all day, and relax rather than take exercise. But Hercule Poirot's not afraid of walking several miles up and down hills and through fields to uncover the mystery surrounding the missing cook. It's also noteworthy to point out that he travels from London to Keswick, and by the time he talks with Miss Dunn, and returns to the station, night has fallen. So he journeys back to London well into the night.

My wife and I visited the Lake District on our visit to England in 2012. We stayed just south of the Lake District, outside the city of Landcaster. Our drive to Ambleside, a village in the south of the Lake District, took us an hour or more.

There we enjoyed beautiful Rothay Park, saw a museum, the local church, and visited the home of writer Beatrix Potter, where all our questions about Peter Rabbit were answered. 

Had we driven up to Keswick, it would have taken us an additional forty-five minutes each way. As you can imagine, four hours of driving would have limited what we could see and do on our day in the Lake District. 

Without a hundred-year-old copy of an ABC Railway Guide, I can only imagine how long it would have taken Poirot and Hastings to travel roundtrip from London to Keswick via an old steam-driven train, and then walk to and from Eliza Dunn's remote cottage. And all to unravel the mystery of a disappearing cook.

 But then, it's all in a day's work to the indefatigable Hercule Poirot.

Dragon Dave

Hercule Poirot at Albert Bridge

In the Agatha Christie's Poirot episode "The Adventure of the Clapham Cook," Hercule Poirot agrees to investigate the disappearance of Mrs. Todd's cook. He and Captain Hastings accompany her to her house in Clapham, a district of London south of the River Thames, via Albert Bridge.

After questioning Annie, Mrs. Todd's maid, Poirot must wait for Mr. and Mrs. Todd's lodger to come home. He and Hastings "take a turn" on Clapham Common, a nearby public park, while they wait for Mr. Simpson to finish his shift at the bank. This is a large park, taking up over two hundred acres in densely populated London. This gives the men plenty of area in which to stretch their legs, and chat about what they've learned. 

After their turn on the common, they walk back to Mrs. Todd's house, where Poirot questions the bank clerk for clues to the missing cook's whereabouts. Then they leave the Todd's house to return to Poirot's flat.

You'd think, after his walk to, around, and back from Clapham Common, Poirot would call a cab and return to his comfortable flat. But either the cabs aren't running this late, or the men opt for even more exercise. At least, they walk as far as Albert Bridge, roughly 1.7 miles from Clapham Common. This gives Poirot time to ponder what he has learned, and review the essential points of the case with his friend Hastings.

There's a long tradition in stories of characters thinking through the issues that perplex them while walking. Albert Bridge is certainly a beautiful place to walk to. It's a pink and white suspension bridge, with lots of great architectural features. 

You'll pass over it in an instant traveling by car. But when you walk across it, like Poirot and Hastings do, you'll see so much more of the artistry that went into its design.

It also affords great views of the River Thames, as well as the adjacent Battersea Park.

Given their training and experiences during World War I, Poirot and Captain Hastings would remember not to walk in step with each other. Despite their apparent need to exercise, they wouldn't want to break the beautiful Albert Bridge, and find themselves swimming in the River Thames. At least, not at night, and in their best clothes.

Then again, given Poirot's love of walking, maybe I'm wrong.

Dragon Dave

The Importance of a Good Cook

In the Agatha Christie's Poirot episode "The Adventure of the Clapham Cook," Mrs. Todd comes to see the great detective in his office. When Poirot shows no interest in investigating the disappearance of her missing cook, she stands up and insists that a good cook is hard to find, and hugely important to her life and happiness. Her appeal knocks Poirot out of the doldrums, and he agrees to take the case.

Once or twice during our marriage, my wife and I have been forced to live without a microwave oven. While it takes little effort to warm up leftovers in a microwave, it takes far longer to do so in a traditional oven. And if you want to cook it over the stove, that takes even more care and effort. Often, it's easier to just cook up something new, rather than reheat something that's also been prepared.

Needless to say, each time our microwave oven broke, we replaced it fairly quickly. 

A century ago, the refrigerator was a relatively modern invention. More than likely they were expensive, and few people owned one. People like Mrs. Todd might have had a wood or metal icebox, but whether (and how much) they could use it to keep food cool would depend on the cost and availability of ice. Other devices we take for granted, such as electric can openers and toasters, would likely have been just as scarce. This, along with a much more limited supply of food, due to less developed preservation techniques, and longer transportation times for food, meant that people had to devote more thought, effort, and time to food preparation than they do today. Hence, Mrs. Todd's insistence that she needs a good cook.

In E. F. Benson's Mapp and Lucia series, whenever Elizabeth Mapp or Emmeline Lucas wanted to get together with her friends, she called them over for tea, or an afternoon party, or dinner. Either way, there was a menu to plan, and food to buy and prepare. It's not until the sixth and final novel, Trouble For Lucia, published in 1939, that the ladies begin to entertain their friends regularly at a neighborhood tearoom. They do this because it becomes economically feasible, and the setting is conducive to their get-togethers. 

Obviously, there were restaurants where people could go out to eat in the 1920s, when Agatha Christie wrote "The Adventure of the Clapham Cook." In Agatha Christie's Poirot, we see Hercule Poirot and Hastings dine out in restaurants. (In the 1983 TV series Agatha Christie's Partners in Crime, we see Tommy and Tuppence dine out at teashops, small restaurants, expensive restaurants, and hotel restaurants). But there seems to be a societal change in the late 1930s, that E. F. Benson wanted to comment on, about the idea of a proper lady in society feeling like its okay to regularly entertain her friends in a tearoom or restaurant, whereas before the primary setting for such get-togethers was the home. Then again, the Mapp and Lucia novels depict everyday life in Tilling*, whereas "The Adventure of the Clapham Cook" takes place in metropolitan London. Obviously, Mrs. Todd would have more options for entertaining than Elizabeth Mapp and Emmeline Lucas did in a remote fishing village.

So while we don't know how often Mrs. Todd entertained, she would have likely eaten breakfast and dinner with her husband most days. Lunch probably depended on her plans. Then there's her parlormaid Annie, who would have eaten three meals per day. Poirot and Hastings question her, to learn about the missing cook's daily routine.

In addition, Mrs. Todd rents out a bedroom. Assuming she fed her lodger one to two meals each day, we can see the cooking duties of Mrs. Todd's household beginning to take shape. And remember, all this food preparation and cooking requires washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen. This would have been a laborious process, in an age without nonstick pans, and the glory of the modern age, the electric dishwasher.

Mrs. Todd obviously didn't want to spend all day planning, preparing, and cooking food. Thus her insistence that a good cook is hard to find, and important to her quality of life. Given how particular Hercule Poirot was about the food he ate, his agreement to investigate the case of her missing cook grows a little more understandable. The only thing that seems a little odd is that, in the early seasons of Agatha Christie's Poirot, Hercule Poirot doesn't seem to employ a cook, or any other household servants. In fact, when we see him eating at home, or entertaining guests, he is doing all the cooking and cleaning up! And no one could accuse Hercule Poirot of leading anything other than a rich and full life--one that makes him fulfilled and happy.

Take that, Mrs. Todd!

Dragon Dave

* In the Mapp and Lucia books, Tilling is a fictionalized version of Rye, located in the British county of Kent, in southern England. E. F. Benson lived there in Lamb House, which he rented from fellow writer Henry James.

Poirot's Noteworthy Mustache

In the Agatha Christie's Poirot episode "The Adventure of the Clapham Cook," Hercule Poirot sits in his office with nothing to do. His friend, Captain Hastings, suggests a few mysteries he could devote his little grey cells to. None of these potential cases, including a significant bank theft, interest Poirot in the slightest. Perhaps, the great detective muses, he will trim and pomade his mustache instead.

Pomade is a dense, oily substance that can be used to make hair retain a given shape. In my youth, I knew a young pastor who sported an enormous mustache. While the main part resembled that of Inspector Japp, he teased each side into a spiral covering his lower cheek. His red hair showed off his mustache in spectacular fashion. I wonder if sinners saw the flames of Hell in his mustache, and if it helped attract converts to his ministry?

While not as spectacular as that of my pastor-friend, Albert Finney sported a bigger mustache in the 1970s movie adaptation of Murder on the Orient Express. It's a little bigger than that of David Suchet, but not as spectacular as my pastor-friend's.

Leave it to actor, director, producer, and overall British Hollywood heavyweight Kenneth Branagh to go one better. The mustache Branagh sported in the recent movie version of Murder on the Orient Express takes the cake. It's hard to imagine anyone doing a bigger, more elaborate mustache than Branagh. Okay, maybe my red-headed pastor-friend would have been in the running, had he ever tried out for the part. I wonder if audiences would accept a red-headed Poirot?

Incidentally, Poirot needed a special facial apparatus to protect his mustache while he slept in both movies. I wonder if this pastor from my youth needed to strap one of those on his face every evening?

Perhaps the best comparison is between David Suchet's Poirot and that of Peter Ustinov. The latter had a bushy mustache like Inspector Japp, which has just been teased into a point on each side. Compared with Ustinov's, David Suchet's is dainty and stylish. 

Like Poirot, Sherlock Holmes, whom Agatha Christie constantly evoked in her stories, would often fall into the doldrums between cases. He regularly turned down pleas for help that didn't pique his interest. Can you imagine Holmes telling Watson that he would rather attend to his wardrobe, or his personal hygiene, than investigate someone's perplexing mystery? 

While Sherlock Holmes always looked respectable, and perhaps even dashing, Hercule Poirot had a style all his own. Wouldn't you agree, mon ami?

Dragon Dave

Sexism Is Announced

Over the Thanksgiving weekend, I visited two used book stores. The first was a small shop in a strip mall. A sign on the door thanked customers for voting them their favorite bookstore in a recent poll. Inside, the shop was packed with books. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases leant the shop a claustrophobic atmosphere, and divided the rental space into rooms. 

A kindly old gentleman greeted me at the door. He welcomed me, and asked if I was looking for anything in particular. When I said I was just browsing, he went on to explain how he had organized his store. Off to one side was Women's Literature. This included Romance and Mysteries. "Mysteries?" I asked.

"Only women read--and with a few exceptions, write--mysteries," he replied. Just as the bookshelves differentiated his shop into little rooms containing different genres, he went on to explain that Men didn't write mysteries, they wrote Suspense Thrillers. Again, he asked for a specific author so he could lead me to the section in which he had placed that author's books. When I deferred a second time, he left me to my own devices. 

Intriguingly, Nonfiction, History, and Classical Literature were all in the Men's half of the store.

I wasn't all that impressed with his selection, or the prices of his well-used paperbacks, so I was all-too-happy to leave after a quick tour of the shop.

The second shop was larger, and part of a chain. The selection was vast, and represented a large number of authors. Salespeople were available, but no one tried to lead me to a specific area. Like the first shop, the prices were a little higher than I prefer to pay for used books, but overall the quality of the books was better. My browsing eventually led me to the Clearance area, where I picked up several Science Fiction and Fantasy novels, as well as a Miss Marple novel by Agatha Christie.

At the register, the young counter assistant scanned the old comics and books I had selected. He commented on none of them until he saw the Miss Marple novel. "Ooh, Agatha Christie," he enthused. "She's my favorite author!" He claimed that the novel I had selected, A Murder is Announced was his personal favorite novel. He went on to tell me how Christie occasionally lost him, when she was inundating him with characters at the beginning of a story, but she always made up for it with the quality of her storytelling.

I didn't have the heart to tell him that he was reading Women's Literature. But then, so am I, apparently.

Dragon Dave

Clive Exton and H.G. Wells

"The Infinite Worlds of H. G. Wells" begins with a dark and stormy night. An aged H. G. Wells receives a journalist in his library. While he's not inclined to answer her questions, as a gentleman he cannot send her away with a storm raging outside. So he agrees to relate one story from his youth, and then she must leave. 

The esteemed author of such celebrated works as "The Time Machine" and War of the Worlds relates a mysterious event that took place in his youth. As a young man, hunting for ideas, he came across a strange series of events at a London university: an experiment gone wrong, a stack of empty food cans in a cupboard, and laboratory rats that escaped a locked and fastened cage. From these disparate clues, young Wells deduced that a professor has developed a chemical that allowed the user to slow down relative time. 

When Wells and a professor friend find the compound, they take a little of it themselves, and walk across the campus. Everyone else seems frozen. Even a cricket ball has stopped in mid-flight, and hovers over the pitch. These events inspired the author to write the short story "The New Accelerator."

Over the course of three nights, or if you prefer, three episodes, this patriarch of Science Fiction relates the facts that inspired five more of his early stories. His visitor, he soon realizes, is no mere journalist. In fact, she works for a secret government department, specially appointed by Winston Churchill. She takes him to laboratories beneath the streets of London, where he finds artifacts that inspired his early stories. And he tells her about his young love, Jane, who encouraged his writing, and also worked at the university.

These stories lack the production values of "Agatha Christie's Poirot." They venture into the realms of the fantastic, whereas Hercule Poirot only investigated the here and now. But the events of each story are presented as a mystery for a young H. G. Wells to solve.

The series was cowritten by Clive Exton, who adapted many Poirot stories for the screen. They aired in 2001, the same year Exton's final Poirot story, "Murder In Mesopotamia," was broadcast. Did Exton grow tired of Agatha Christie's famous detective, and wished to sink his teeth into another mystery series?  

Sadly, only three episodes of the series were produced. It would have been interesting to have seen how it developed, and if H.G. Wells had somehow helped Churchill defend his nation's shores. At least the series' end left Clive Exton free to write for "Rosemary & Thyme," another charming, light-hearted series about two gardeners who solve mysteries. Those stories aren't Poirot either, but like "The Infinite Worlds of H. G. Wells," they are infinitely fun.

Dragon Dave

Hyoscine, Amorite, the Mousetrap, and Oh Yes, More Spills!

In Agatha Christie's Poison Garden
Torre Abbey, Torquay, England

In Agatha Christie's play Black Coffee, the Amory family finds a selection of drugs previously kept by Edna, one of Sir Claud Amory's daughters. Like the author, Edna worked in a dispensary during World War I, during which she accumulated this cache. Since the war, Edna has settled in India, while her father Sir Claud, the famed scientist, has worked on a formula to split the atom. 

Among "the spoils of war," as the family members term the collection, they find Iodine, Castor Oil, Morphine, and a drug called Hyoscine. Dr. Carelli, a houseguest, states that an overdose of Hyoscine would bring no pain, but merely a dreamless sleep from which one would never awaken. Lucia, the daughter-in-law of Sir Claud, is seen taking some of the Hyoscine pills. 

After Sir Claud dies, the doctor pronounces that the scientist was poisoned. Naturally, the only thing that stands between Lucia and a murder charge is Hercule Poirot.

Deadly Nightshade, from which Hyoscine is made,
Torre Abbey, Torquay, England

According to Matthew Pritchard, Agatha Christie's grandson, the author wrote Black Coffee in 1929 after a stage adaptation of her novel The Murder of Roger Ackroyd disappointed her. The play, adapted to novel form by Charles Osborne, offers a unique and interesting insight to the author's views on life, as well as the consciousness of the age. Most of us think of the Manhattan Project in the 1940s as the beginning and end of the development of the atomic bomb. Yet a decade-and-a-half before the United States dropped atomic bombs on Japan during World War II, Christie's character Sir Claud is working on a formula for splitting the atom.

While his family view him as stern, stingy, reclusive figure, the world cherishes the scientist as a benefactor, despite the destructive nature of his research. Sir Claud dubs his finished formula Amorite, which seems odd, as most people know that the Spanish word "amor" is translated as love. The world loves Sir Claud Amory, and in return, he will share the fruits of his labor, Amorite, with the world? While making social commentary on human nature, Christie is unknowingly foretelling how the fruits of military researchers will blossom in the future.

As in The Mysterious Affair at Styles, Hercule Poirot visits the grand country house. There, he cannot help rearranging unsymmetrical items on a mantlepiece. Again, the item that concerns him most is a spill vase. Every time he enters the room, he sees the spill vase has been moved. At the novel's climax, he connects one of the witnesses' comments with the rolled up scrap paper used to transfer fire from fireplace to fireplace. "What is it I have in this vase?" he asks his friend and companion Hastings.

"Why, spills, of course," Captain Hastings replies.

"No, mon ami, it is cheese," Poirot replies. "You use it to bait a mousetrap."

In the early 1950s, Christie wrote her most famous play. The Mousetrap would go on to become the longest-running play in world history. I've never scene it performed, or read an adaptation. I don't know if it contains Hyoscine, Amorite, or even spills kept in a spill vase above a fireplace. But twenty years earlier, Christie seems to be sowing creative seeds she will reap two decades later when she likens the spills to cheese for a mousetrap.

And as for those paper spills, which people used to save money over the more expensive matches? After Hercule Poirot saves Lucia from a charge of murder, the famous scientist's daughter-in-law lights a match, uses it to burn the spill, and then tosses the burning paper into the fireplace. How's that for taking family story elements, and presenting them in a new and interesting way?

Dragon Dave