Hercule Poirot Doesn't Swear

One factor in how a story ages is the words with which it is written. I don't mean the language itself, such as English or French, but the idioms and words that fail to pass the test of time. As a native Belgian, Hercule Poirot often salts his English with a word or phrase of French. Sometimes the editor of an edition of Christie's novels will translate that into English for the reader. Most often not. Either way, Poirot makes his point perfectly clear in English, and uses words that today's readers readily understand. Thus, knowing (or looking up) the French remarks merely enhances an already pleasurable reading experience. 

In comparing Christie's writing with that of her contemporary, Baroness Emma Orczy, one thing I found interesting was the number of words I stumbled over in the latter's novel The Scarlet Pimpernel. Many times these were French words in use during that country's revolution, such as Ci-Devant, which meant "former," and was commonly associated with the aristocrats the revolutionaries killed, arrested, or otherwise stripped of land, title, and power. But other words also tripped me up, and these were English words, not French. Many of these were swear words.

Although spoken in English, these words and phrases communicated nothing to me. Here's one for you: Odd's fish. Say it with feeling: "Odd's fish!" Feel better? Good, because I've got a few more to consider: "Zooks" and "Zounds." I especially like these last two, because they start with "Z", one of the most underutilized letters in the English alphabet. These three words and phrases, along with equally mystifying others, are readily and repeatedly expounded by the Scarlet Pimpernel and his associates. "Odd's Fish!" "Zooks!" "Zounds!" It's a fair bet you haven't heard anyone using words and phrases like that recently.

These swear words are abbreviations, or short-hand for invoking the name of the Divine. Thus, when someone snapped "Odd's Fish!" what he really meant was "God's Fish!" Zooks and Zounds are even more evocative. Zooks is short for Gadzooks, which apparently meant God's Hooks, or the nails used to impale Jesus to the cross. Zounds was short for wounds, or more specifically God's Wounds, such as those Christ received from the nails driven into him on the cross. Such abbreviations are called minced oaths, in which a blasphemous or taboo term is replaced by one less objectionable. Still, everyone then knew what the speaker was referring to.

Beginning authors often salt their characters' dialogue with swear words. It's an easy way to reveal a character's anger, sadness, or disgust. As an author matures, he or she may find more sophisticated ways of revealing emotions and turmoil without resorting to such crassness. This takes work and skill, as it involves the author striving to widen his readership to entertaining without offending his readers. To me this seems a worthy, and perhaps even noble, goal.

I have no idea how Baroness Emma Orczy portrayed herself in the media. By all accounts The Scarlet Pimpernel caused a sensation in the early 20th Century. Yet I'm sure we can agree that, a hundred years later, that novel, and those that followed in the series, are not read as often, or as widely, and certainly are not loved and taught and adapted and discussed as much as those of Agatha Christie. What strikes me as even more notable is that Baroness Emma Orczy was a deposed aristocrat. Given her upbringing, I have to wonder: did she swear in public like her characters?

Unlike Orczy's character Sir Percy Blakeney, Hercule Poirot is a humble Belgian policeman. Whereas Blakeney was born to power, Poirot must earn his place in society. While Blakeney hangs out with the English aristocracy, including the British royal family, Poirot must impress them with his conduct, as well as his little grey cells. So it makes sense that, while Poirot often flaunts expectations by his conclusions and actions, he doesn't flaunt others' expectations of proper conduct by using words and phrases that others may find offensive. Not even in Agatha Christie's first novel The Mysterious Affair at Styles. Perhaps that's part of the secret to Hercule Poirot's enduring popularity, and an example of the wisdom contained in Agatha Christie's little grey cells.

Agatha Christie's Exclusive Club

My research into links between Agatha Christie and her literary predecessor, Baroness Emma Orczy, uncovered one indisputable fact. The two writers knew each other and conversed with each other, as they belonged to the same writers' club. This was called the Detection Club, or the London Detection Club, formed in 1928, a decade after The Mysterious Affair at Styles was published. In 1930, when the members formalized their group, Agatha Christie and Baroness Emma Orczy were listed as charter members, along with other luminaries of the mystery genre, including G. K. Chesterton (The Father Brown Mysteries), Dorothy L. Sayers (the Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries), and A. A. Milne (Hey, Winnie-the-Pooh stories are mysteries too, right?) 

Thereafter, the members would admit additional authors into their ranks, but only those whose work set them apart from their fellows. Some members whose works I have read, who have since been received as members of this exclusive club, include P. D. James (The Children of Men) and John Le Carre (The Spy Who Came In From The Cold). Other authors, whose novels and TV adaptations have become important to me, are Reginald Hill (the Dalziel and Pascoe mysteries), Colin Dexter (the Inspector Morse mysteries, which also formed the basis for today's Inspector Lewis TV series), and Jonathan Gash (writer of the Lovejoy mysteries, upon which the too-short TV series starring Ian McShane was based). 

The Detection Club is still around today, with an interactive website that is regularly maintained and updated. There you can find a list of past members, references to important golden age British mystery authors, writer biographies, and even essays on how to write detective stories. There's a lot to read and discover there, if you're so inclined. I've included the direct link to their Agatha Christie page below. From there, you can explore further on your own. So if you find it of value, and learn something you'd like to share with me, feel free to leave a comment below. Personally, I can't help wondering what Agatha Christie and Baroness Emma Orczy might have spoken about, perhaps seated in two comfortable chairs, and enjoying a cup of hot tea and chocolate biscuits. Or what she might have talked to G. K. Chesterton about. 

Who knows, maybe she even shared her thoughts on Winnie-the-Pooh with A. A. Milne. If so, I'm betting she put a spoonful of honey into her tea. As a mark of respect, if you know what I mean, mon ami.

Related Internet Links
Agatha Christie's Page

Agatha Christie: Inspiration For Hercule Poirot

In the TV adaptation of Agatha Christie's novel The Mysterious Affair at Styles, Hercule Poirot lectures a group of fellow Belgian refugees on English horticulture: specifically, the Scarlet Pimpernel. As this scene doesn't appear in the novel, this got me wondering if screenwriter Clive Exton saw any similarities between the two fictional characters. When Agatha Christie invented Hercule Poirot for his first novel, writer Baroness Emma Orczy's own creation, The Scarlet Pimpernel (SP), was flying high in the British public mindset. Her play of the same name had caused a sensation, which led her to write a novelization, and then a series of bestselling novels on her famous hero. In time, Agatha Christie's character of Hercule Poirot would overtake Orczy's creation, but I couldn't help but wonder, given his popularity at the time, if Christie's creation of Poirot might have been in any way inspired by that of Orczy.

While reading Baroness Emma Orczy's The Scarlet Pimpernel, I noticed the two novels share some intriguing similarities. Both occur during wartime, with SP set during the French Revolution, and Styles set during World War I. Both concern the fate of refugees, with SP rescuing the French aristocracy, and Mrs. Emily Inglethorp arranging for the housing of Belgian refugees in her village. Both are largely written from the point of view of someone who initially underestimates the hero: in Styles, the narrator is Hastings, who sees Poirot as intelligent, but can't help but feeling he'd make a better detective. In The Scarlet Pimpernel, Marguerite sees her husband as simple-minded, and wonders how she could have been so stupid to have married him. This is because both protagonists hide their intelligence like a cloak, and wish others to underestimate them. 

The third act of both novels concern a dramatic rescue. In The Scarlet Pimpernel, Marguerite sails across a storm-tossed sea to France, where she attempts to warn SP that a trap has been set for him, while he is attempting to rescue more of the French aristocracy. In Styles, Hercule Poirot races against time, taking a cab from London down to Styles Court, to search for the vital clue that would save an innocent man from a courtroom prosecutor's utterly-convincing arguments. In both cases, the fate the protagonists eventually save the innocent from is death: in SP, by the guillotine. In Styles, the hangman's noose.

Both heroes are particular about their appearance. In Styles, when Captain Hastings races to Poirot's home to tell him of Emily Inglethorp's murder, Poirot urges Hastings to calm down, to recount the important incidents of the last few days, while he dresses and combs his mustache. He then straightens Hasting's tie, and remarks on his friend's disheveled appearance, before he will allow his friend to accompany him back to Styles Court. This is hardly an aberration for Poirot, as he is always impeccably dressed, with his smart suits, hats, and walking stick, which makes him stand out in the TV series. In The Scarlet Pimpernel, SP's alter ego Sir Percy Blakeney is also renowned for his impeccable dress sense. In fact, he leads the London fashion scene, wearing new styles of clothing that others in society take note of, and begin wearing as a result. Both men form a focal point at parties, their unique appearance and magnetic personalities enhancing the appeal of any social do. Hercule Poirot may not toss out the verbal witticisms like Percy, but those who speak with him find his dialogue no less memorable.

I've no doubt that more similarities could be drawn between the two characters and novels, and if you've spotted any that I've overlooked, I'd love to hear from you. I'm also curious what you think of my analysis. Based on the similarities I've listed above, do you think Agatha Christie, at least in part, base Hercule Poirot on this other popular fictional hero? Or are all these attributes simply elements that make for an interesting character and a popular series of novels?

Hastings Complains In Poirot Investigates

Most evenings, my wife and I read a few pages of a story before we drift off to sleep. Right now, we're about halfway through Poirot Investigates, the third book Agatha Christie published that featured her ingenious detective Hercule Poirot. Like the first two novels, The Mysterious Affair at Styles and The Murder On The Links, the short stories in this collection are narrated by Captain Hastings. Unlike the first two novels, I'm not enjoying them. Or, at least, not as much as I wish I were.

Part of the problem is that I'm not in love with the short story form. When I read, I care about the characters, and a novel gives the author lots of pages to explore that. With a short story, the author has to focus in on the action, the plot, and underpinning idea. So I suppose that's some of the reason for my dissatisfaction with the book.

I think the major reason I'm not enjoying this collection though is because of how Agatha Christie portrays Captain Hastings. In Poirot's first novel, The Mysterious Affair at Styles, Hastings might have initially fancied the idea that he was smarter than Poirot, but he also showed great respect for Poirot's instincts and deductions. That's not to say that he never questioned his friend's decisions, but he went along with (what seemed to him) the little Belgian's wackiness more often than not. In The Murder On The Links, however, Hastings seems to be chafing at his friend's actions, and calling into question everything he says and does. Perhaps not verbally, but at least inside himself. I came away from that second novel feeling that Hastings had felt Poirot was wrong every step of the way during the investigation. That's not to say I didn't enjoy Hasting's role in the second novel. Christie really takes him on personal odyssey, and he sort of grows-up by the end of the novel. It's as if he's been clutching onto his friendship with Poirot because he's not really to venture on ahead with his life, whereas by the end of The Murder On The Links he's ready to be his own man. So I enjoyed that aspect of his part of the novel. I just didn't enjoy the complaining, distrusting, thinking-Poirot-is-wacky part.

This theme continues in Poirot Investigates. Perhaps people who read the Hercule Poirot stories before they saw the TV series based on these stories will feel differently, but the Poirot and Hastings I fell in love were the 50 minute adaptations. Each episode expanded upon the story it was based upon, and screenwriters such as Clive Exton infused them with character, strengthening the bonds between Hercule Poirot, his secretary Miss Lemon, Chief Inspector Japp, and especially (or so I felt) his friend Captain Hastings. The Hastings in the TV series might have questioned Poirot, might have gently begged to differ with him, but the Hastings in Christie's stories sometimes grows so angry with Poirot that he storms off at the end of the story, and needs weeks until he can stand being with Poirot again. When he reappears in the next one, he may be over his previous huff, but he's all too eager to think his friend is wacky again.

I used to think it was a shame that Agatha Christie didn't put Captain Hastings in more of the novels. Now I think I understand her reasoning. She needed someone to call into question everything Poirot did, and after awhile it seems tiresome and unrealistic if the same sidekick is doing that. So she brings in other characters who don't know him so well to fulfill that function, and ultimately, be amazed by his brilliance. 

Look at these two. They're firm friends. They practically exude affection and mutual respect. That's the Captain Hastings that I fell in love with, that I want to encounter again and again: the TV version of Hastings, not the one Agatha Christie created. I'd hang out with him any day, any time. More importantly, so would Hercule Poirot. Still, if Agatha Christie hadn't created her Hastings, screenwriters such as Clive Exton couldn't have created the version I love.

Still, who knows? I might feel entirely different about Captain Hastings by the time I finish the remaining stories in Poirot Investigates. Maybe, for whatever reason, I'm just in a huff.

Hercule Poirot in the Post Office

The village post office, in the TV adaptation of Agatha Christie's novel The Mysterious Affair at Styles, might pose something of a mystery to viewers in the United States. For it is there that we find our friend Hercule Poirot, purchasing two bags of his evening cocoa. Actually, the post office sells any number of items, including fresh breads, tinned food, and baking supplies. It seems more like an early American general store than a post office. Yet it is here Captain Hastings bumps into his old Belgian friend, the famous detective, when he pops out of Styles Court to mail a few letters. 

Of course, all this happens amid World War I, when most of the menfolk would be away, fighting in the British Army. Additionally, this is a tiny community, where many of the charities and community functions are orchestrated and sponsored by the great benefactress, Mrs. Emily Ingelthorpe, from her mansion at Styles Court. It's easy to imagine how during this time of scarcity, when labor, food, and fuel are in short supply, any businesses that managed to remain open had to fulfill a number of roles. So perhaps it's not too difficult to imagine an English village Post Office carrying out a number of functions that would normally be handled by specialists shops in larger cities like London.

As Poirot values order, he makes a suggestion as to how the shop might be better organized. Each item could be arranged along the wall of the store (North, South, East, or West) to illustrate the region of the world in which the product originates. Thus the shop would not just supply necessary goods, but educate patrons as well. The Proprietress seems somewhat amused by his idea, but as she tells him, as far as she's concerned, each item comes from the wholesaler, who delivers all the items to her shop. 

Oops. I mean, her Post Office.

On my visits to England, I've popped into a few post offices. While I never saw one that sold food, I had previously learned from various Britcoms about characters who had money stored in the Post Office. So on one visit, I asked the clerk about that, and he told me that anyone could invest money in the Post Office, in a similar manner to opening a savings account in the United States. 

I don't know what the advantages of investing money in a Post Office are over that of an English bank, but I certainly prefer visiting banks in the United States to my local post office. I've never been offered a cup of hot cocoa while the Post Office counter staff weigh my packages and sell me stamps, but bank clerks usually have some kind of treat available. Over the years, they've offered me bags of hot popcorn, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, lollipops, and even packets of candy corn around Halloween. But then, Post Offices in the United States don't seem to get much government funding, and people don't mail letters or collect stamps like they used to. Meanwhile, our banks seem flush with funds, probably as a result of their paying out such measly interest on our checking and savings accounts.

I wonder what suggestions Hercule Poirot might make to improve Post Offices in the United States. I certainly don't expect to bump into him there any time soon. Still, I'll have to keep an eye out for him the next time I visit, perhaps when I bring in the Christmas presents I'm sending to all my far-flung relatives. Sadly, none of them live in Belgium.

Those Mysterious Spills...and Puppies

I'm going to do something now that is particularly nasty, or at least terribly unkind: I am going to discuss a major plot point in Agatha Christie's novel The Mysterious Affair at Styles. So if you haven't read it yet, if you don't want to read a major SPOILER, then now's the time to close this tab or browser window, and read about the latest Hollywood socialite to adopt a puppy. Or watch a funny amateur video about a puppy. Or, you know, anything puppy related.

Warning: This post has nothing to do with cute, cuddly puppies!

Notice the objects on the fireplace in the picture below. Can any of you identify the object on the left?

This is called a spill vase, and they were apparently used in homes until the early 20th Century. Today we take matches for granted. Actually, matches are starting to get outdated now, in this age of cheap lighters. But in 1916, when Agatha Christie wrote her first novel, matches wouldn't have been readily available to most people, let alone cheap lighters. So they would endeavor to keep fires going in their houses, and transfer a fire from one source to another via some kind of small, cheap object, such as a stick of wood or a twisted-up piece of paper. Thus, you needed to store these tapers somewhere so you could have them readily at hand.

I'll admit, this item passed over me when I read the novel. I guess I just couldn't visualize it. Nor does it readily make sense, as Mrs. Ingelthorp tells Hastings that they send every scrap of paper they don't use to the English troops fighting in WWI. (This is a point of pride for her). Yet Poirot discovers that Mrs. Ingelthorp burned some papers the day before her death. Why else would she order her staff to start a fire in the fireplace on a hot day? And the way the maid started the fire was apparently by transferring the fire from a candle, to one of those long twisted pieces of paper, then using that to light the kindle in the fireplace.

Even when I saw the TV adaptation for the first time, the notion of paper spills holding a clue to the identity of the murderer wasn't something that particularly resonated with me. It wasn't the method of Mrs. Ingelthorp's poisoning, after all. But the handwriting on those spills, as Poirot discovers, tells him the identity of her murderer. And this he demonstrates at the end of the novel, when he gathers all the suspects together, and slowly unrolls the paper spills he found in Mrs. Ingelthorp's spill vase.

Just try getting a definition of a paper spill on Google. It's impossible. Today, you'll learn about spilling liquids, or taking a fall, or perhaps even what happens when you get a cute, cuddly puppy overly excited. (Okay, my apologies: this post does have a little to do with puppies). But the meaning of a paper spill has been overwritten by the necessities of today's vocabulary. I finally found information on it by looking under spill vases, which led me to an article by Dan Pinnell, an early American lighting collector and researcher. If you're interested, you can read his article, "Spilling the Whole Story," by following the link below. You can even purchase a spill vase for your fireplace, if you're so inclined. 

But then, if you're so outdated that you're still using a fireplace for your heating...well, what can I say? Get with the times! Upgrade your home!! Buy yourself a central heating unit, and above all, adopt a puppy!!!

They're so cute and adorable, aren't they?

Related Internet Link
Spilling the Whole Story

The Mysterious Battle of Ypres

Agatha Christie wrote her first Poirot novel, The Mysterious Affair at Styles, during World War I. Her day job--filling prescriptions in a dispensary--gave her the idea of how the killer would poison Mrs. Inglethorp. She wrote her first draft by hand, then typed up a second. But according to Bill Peschal's notes in The Complete, Annotated Mysterious Affair At Styles, the story grew more complicated with each draft, until her ingenuity crashed into a brick wall. With her creativity stifled, she left Torquay to spend some solitary time at the Moorland Hotel in Dartmoor. When she returned home, she had figured out the intricacies of the plot, and carried a completed manuscript.

No doubt she had some work still to do, massaging and fine-tuning her writing. But Peschal states that she finished it in 1916. World War I was still going on at that point, and although she began submitting her manuscript to publishers, The Mysterious Affair at Styles would not be published until 1920, two years after the war had ended. 

Agatha Christie introduces us to Lieutenant Arthur Hastings by having him narrate the novel. In the first few paragraphs, he explains that he was recovering from injuries in a military hospital when he happened to bump into his old friend John Cavendish. In his adaptation of The Mysterious Affair at Styles, screenwriter Clive Exton introduces us to Arthur Hastings by showing him in a dark projection room. There he sits with other wounded soldiers and watches newsreel footage of the Battle of Passchendaele, or the Third Battle of Ypres. The silent black and white images play out on the screen, accompanied only by the sound of the projector's clicking, as the operator turns the film reel with a hand-operated crank. Hastings watches soldiers climbing from their trenches, fighting on the battlefield, and tanks blasting at enemy positions. Then the images change, and he sees Belgian refugees disembarking from the ships that brought them to England. Although Hastings doesn't know it yet, one of those Belgian refugees is none other than his old friend Hercule Poirot. Or, at least, that's what Clive Exton suggests, by inserting this scene into his TV adaptation.

The Battle of Passchendale, or the Third Battle of Ypres, was a controversial campaign that, all told, cost hundreds of thousands of lives. Yet refugees began arriving in cities and towns all over England shortly after the war began in 1914. Their presence in Torquay inspired Agatha Christie to feature them in her novel, and make the star of her novel a Belgian police officer. So here's the question: Why do you think Clive Exton set his adaptation of The Mysterious Affair at Styles in 1917 instead of two or three years earlier, when Agatha Christie actually conceived it? And does it alter Christie's story in a substantial way? 


Some related links
See The B&W Newsreel Footage that Arthur Hastings watched.