'The Good Earth' by Pearl S Buck

I've decided to work my way through a small stack of Pulitzer Prizewinning novels I've picked up here and there, before I realised what they share in common. This one was from a small, jam-packed secondhand bookshop near the sea at Port Eliot. I already knew, from a list I'd printed off, that it was the bestselling and Pulitzer winning fiction title the year my Dad was born. I knew it would be worth the few dollars I paid, regardless of what I thought of the story. 

MY THOUGHTS:  

This book was the bestselling fiction title of 1931 and 1932, winning Pearl Buck the 1932 Pulitzer Prize. In 1938 she also won the Nobel Literature Prize for her 'rich and truly epic descriptions of peasant life in China.' Eighty or ninety years down the track, I'm wondering if now she'd be more likely to be accused of cultural appropriation, for Buck was American, although she lived for a time with her missionary parents in China. Gone are the days a writer can simply spin an imaginative yarn based on meticulous research or close observation of others without getting in hot water.

Anyway, I digress.

This novel spans the life of its main character, Wang Lung, from the eve of his wedding day as a peasant farmer to his elderly years, as the head of a wealthy family. His passion for the land (the good earth of the title) combined with his savvy real-estate skills and the cleverness of his wife, earns him huge material success. But the story also takes its characters through some very rough patches of famine and war. 

This book's outstanding character is Wang Lung's wife, the under-appreciated O-lan. He purchases her, sight unseen, from the House of Hwang, the local gentry. O-lan is one of their plainest slaves, since Wang couldn't afford a pretty girl. There is nothing remotely romantic about the transaction, except that prior to their first night together, Wang Lung decides to wash his entire body for the first time since his boyhood. 

The young woman's exceptional frugality and initiative revolutionises his life, boosting Wang's comfort level in ways he'd never imagined. Still, he simply considers that he'd got what he paid for. O-lan even delivers her own babies quietly behind a closed door and then returns to her farmwork. No wonder we're often told the smile on her lips rarely reaches her eyes. She's regarded as slow and stupid because she's quiet, but it's evident to readers that her insightful wisdom keeps the household afloat. Whenever quiet O-lan speaks, we readers sit up and pay attention, knowing that she must consider the import worth the effort. 

 I think the crux of the story is that every upwards financial move chips away at a person's character, reducing our ability to enjoy what we've achieved. (Sorry to all the rich people out there.) Wang Lung's initial satisfaction with simple blessings from nature and willingness to work hard morphs over the years into a grasping, irritable, restless personality. Yet he retains enough of his early passion for the land to realise, too late, that his sons have lost sight of what he held most precious. There is a tinge of inevitability to the progression, since Wang makes sure to provide the boys with the culture and education he never had. Only later does it dawn on Wang Lung that in the process, their hearts were infused with entirely different values from his own early ones.

Whenever the urgency of simply living is no longer an issue, nothing suits Wang Lung, including his own wife. For when you've 'arrived' nothing that used to suffice seems good enough anymore.

 He's really a total arse, but we are challenged to wonder whether that's just human nature. It's darkly comedic when the oldest son goes through a phase of moodiness because he has the leisure to. Then instead of feeling irritated because the kid is a pain in the neck, Wang Lung feels proud that his boy exhibits the disgruntled traits of rich young men. We're prompted to ponder a chicken-or-egg sort of a question. Does a person's personality shape their wealth building or does their wealth building shape their personality?

Toward the end of the book, we are told, 'The people who used to say Wang the Farmer now said Wang the Big Man or Wang the Rich Man.' Therefore he is technically a huge success, but does pay a price for something that brings no real happiness. 

And the ending reminds us that we can't take any of it with us.

I'm giving this book just three stars because I found it so triggering, especially regarding the sorry plight of females. It left me with a melancholic readers' hangover. But I'm sure many other readers may give it five stars for the very same reasons. My back cover blurb calls it, 'Pearl Buck's magnificent Pulitzer prizewinning novel.' Well, lots of sordid and desperate stuff happens over a long time span, if that's what they mean by magnificent. I guess it is rather Biblical in its scope. Wang Lung's family saga puts me in mind of the patriarch Jacob's family in the Book of Genesis, with poor old O-lan taking on the Leah role. 

Perhaps I'll put it out there as a timely recommendation for anyone who's ever felt taken for granted. No matter who we are, I can guarantee that O-lan and her daughters fare far, far worse. The horrific foot binding is just the tip of the iceberg. 

🌟🌟🌟

'The Mysterious Affair at Styles' by Agatha Christie

This year's Read Christie Challenge has the changing decades of publication as its theme. And January's choice is this novel that set the ball rolling.  

MY THOUGHTS: 

This is the story that started it all. It's Agatha Christie's debut mystery, written in 1916 and published in 1920. She first introduces us to Hercule Poirot, who is already considered one of the finest detectives of his day. Belgian refugees were fleeing from the thick of World War One and arriving in Christie's home town, to which we owe the conception of her most famous personality. We also meet other recurring characters; the ferret-featured Inspector Jimmy Japp, and the surprisingly youthful Captain Arthur Hastings, a 30-year-old soldier invalided home from the Front. I admit, I'd never imagined him as such a relative baby before.

Young Hastings is invited to stay at the grand country estate of Styles, where he spent time in his boyhood. His old friends, John and Lawrence Cavendish still live there with their stepmother, Mrs Inglethorp, although she has now married her male secretary, a far younger man everyone suspects of gold-digging. When poor Mrs Inglethorp suffers an agonising death in bed late one night, an autopsy reveals a dose of strychnine killed her. But was it administered to her nightcap cup of coffee or her supper mug of cocoa? The finger of suspicion points straight at her unpopular husband, but Inglethorp turns out to have a rock solid alibi. Yet it's unthinkable that her stepsons, grateful boarder or loyal staff members could have done it. Hastings' cleverest move in the whole story is dashing off to beg Poirot's help to figure out the mess. 

Hastings sets up his pattern of being a bit of a doofus, for which he's teased by Poirot throughout all their subsequent cases, committing errors of extremes. He either skims the surface of clues where he should have probed deeper, or flails in way too deep, jumping to rash conclusions and letting his imagination run away with him. As Poirot says, Hastings has no instincts. And he's also a sucker for flattery.

I like this passage, in which Poirot muses about the crook and gives Hastings a backhanded compliment.

'Yes, he is intelligent. But we must be more intelligent. We must be so intelligent that he does not suspect us of being intelligent at all.'

I acquiesced.

'There, mon ami, you will be of great assistance to me.'

I was pleased with the compliment. There were times when I hardly thought that Poirot appreciated me at my true worth.  

'Yes,' he continued, staring at me thoughtfully. 'You will be invaluable.' 

Yet we readers are challenged not to be too hard on Hastings, since it's written in such a way that we probably won't piece together the solution from the patchwork of clues right in front of us either. I didn't, although I did foresee a nice little romance.  

I enjoyed the intro to this edition, written by Agatha Christie herself. She describes how she was inspired to write this story by her wartime work in a Red Cross dispensary, similar to the character of Cynthia Murdoch in this story. Christie admits that her war work helped her establish poisons and drugs as her very favourite murder weapon in her stories. Turns out she felt far less confident with firearms. 'People can't, of course, be poisoned every time, but I'm happier when they are. Especially the drug that allows the victim to gasp out one, unnecessarily cryptic sentence before expiring.' 

I'm glad she could be so tongue-in-cheek about what turned out to be such a brilliant career for her. And I agree that for a debut murder mystery by a young author, this was pretty good and watertight. 

🌟🌟🌟½   

'Kilmeny of the Orchard' by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Later this year will be Lucy Maud's Montgomery's 150th birthday. It's an excellent reason to focus on her novels. The Race Who Knows Joseph Book Club on Bookstagram will be reading them in publication order throughout 2024. I decided to join them, starting with this story from her youth.

MY THOUGHTS: 

This short romance novel was from early in Montgomery's writing career. I believe she wrote it in her teens, and it was published in 1910, not long after Anne of Green Gables. Now, sit tight while I try to explain why this story makes me see red. 

Eric Marshall is a young university graduate and dreamboat; a total package sort of guy all the girls drool over. And he's already being quizzed by his father and friends, at the age of 24, as to why he isn't inclined to engage himself to one of the many lovely girls he knows. The answer turns out to be that he's waiting for absolute perfection. 

Anyway, Eric accepts a plea from his ailing friend, Larry, to come and do some substitute school teaching until he recuperates. There in the little backwater town on Prince Edward Island, Eric chances upon a lonely and romantic old orchard where a reclusive, stunningly beautiful girl plays violin like an angel. She turns out to be Kilmeny Gordon, whose initial reaction to Eric is one of sheer terror. She's never set eyes on another man outside of her immediate family and the egg peddler, let alone one as drop-dead gorgeous as Eric. They strike up a friendship which becomes rock solid in a matter of days. 

Eric has finally discovered a girl whose beauty ticks his high standards. Her wide-eyed naivety, and inclination to treat his every word as an oracle probably exceeds his wildest dreams. She's a one-dimensional character but that suits him, for he is another.

Kilmeny cannot communicate except through her violin and her trusty slate and chalk. Her backstory involves an intriguing possibility for her muteness, since there is absolutely nothing wrong with her vocal apparatus. Even though she quickly grows to love Eric wholeheartedly, Kilmeny refuses to marry him unless, by some miracle, she acquires the power of speech. She believes it would be unfair on him to put up with a mute wife. (There's a nice bit of ableism right there, but hold on, the 'isms' keep coming.) 

Eric's good friend David Baker, a clever speech specialist, deems Kilmeny's silence psychological, which makes the whole stalemate extra tricky. 

Maybe I'd rank this book higher if not for the plight of poor Neil, the boy of Italian descent who's partly Kilmeny's adopted cousin and partly a convenient plot device. The Gordon family are convinced they've always done right by Neil, who was born beneath their roof. They even, 'had him baptised, same as any Christian child.' Nice one, dudes! Reading between the lines, it's clear to the modern reader (although apparently not to LMM herself), that he's always suffered filthy racism and been kept at arm's length by his nearest and dearest, who just can't see what they've done to him. Neil, in his own tragic way, bears a 'curse of the innocent' as much as Kilmeny is said to do. 

It's no wonder he has a sullen countenance! And I totally get why, after loving and caring for Kilmeny for so long, he'd develop an intense grudge against Eric, this smug Marty Stu character who breezes in and wins everyone's hearts after three measly weeks. 

Neil's running away is treated as a blessing, which elicits a sigh of relief all round. No member of the Gordon family will try to track him down, even though he's been with them since he drew his first breath. Uncle Thomas' self-righteous, 'We have cared for him as our own...' is super-hypocritical in light of his earlier instruction to Kilmeny not to make an equal of Neil. Yet he can't see it. You see, to them, the tainted Mediterranean blood that flows through Neil's veins makes him a potentially volatile, embarrassing second-class citizen. My gosh, the whole Gordon family attitude is appalling! 

But hey, it's happily ever after for everyone but Neil. Eric the newcomer, backed by his father's considerable Canadian lineage and wealth, wins the girl and nobody is happier to see the back of Neil than he. Kilmeny can at last give her fingers a break from scribbling so fast on that slate. She was as chatty and effusive with her pencil as Anne of Green Gables was with her tongue, and wrote such very long speeches, Eric must have waited around twiddling his thumbs a lot. And there is absolutely no need for Uncle Thomas and Aunt Janet to take a good, hard look at themselves, since Neil has conveniently removed himself from the picture. 'We have made more of him than we should,' Thomas decides. Charming way to regard your own adopted son.

(Sigh) Although I aim to overlook the standards of their own eras when ranking old novels, sometimes one comes along that pushes my buttons a bit too hard. My low score here is mostly about the triggers, but I also feel Maud was still finding her voice and perfecting her craft when she wrote this book. She's given Kilmeny's parents a melodramatic history which puts me in mind of the sensational stories that Anne and her friends wrote for their Story Club. And Kilmeny and Eric's relationship is a bit too saccharine sweet. She's a perfect fairy tale princess and he's Prince Charming. Lucy Maud Montgomery does Disney here. It wouldn't surprise me if Maud ended up agreeing with me, since she eventually decided love scenes were a challenge for her. This is probably her most lovey-dovey attempt at fiction. 

I'm willing to wonder if Montgomery might have even agreed with my one-star ranking for this early novel of hers, and lampooned it herself down the track. Overall, I'm so glad she became a more sensitive writer who gave her characters far more depth as she progressed.  

🌟

'Orley Farm' by Anthony Trollope

It's been years since I read a novel by Anthony Trollope. Back in my twenties I read a couple of the Barchester chronicles which I remember finding a trifle slow and meandering. I thought they might be more suitable for my dad's demographic than mine. This far down the track, I'm ready to try again. Especially since I've seen them recommended by several bookish friends on Instagram. 

Trollope wrote 47 novels! He had an intensely productive work ethic. I won't necessarily aim to read them all, as I'm doing with his peer, Charles Dickens' major works. At that rate, reviewing one each year would take me until I'm older than 100! On the other hand, reading nothing but Anthony Trollope books back to back would take just a few years, but no way am I doing that either. I'll read one every so often, to help fill my quota of Victorian novels. That's all I'm committing to :) 

So rather than tackling one of his series, I'll start with the occasional stand-alone title. I'd seen this one recommended, so got hold of a free kindle version. 

MY THOUGHTS: 

I ripped through this massive Victorian court case novel. What makes it so compelling is that the 'bad guy' is the wronged party, and the lovely, gracious lady is the 'crook.' Trollope is playing around with his readers' headspaces, making us want to see justice averted. 

The backstory occurs twenty years prior to this novel's start. When elderly Sir Joseph Mason dies, everyone assumes that his eldest son, also named Joseph, will inherit both family properties; the smaller but productive Orley Farm along with the large family seat, Groby Park. Indeed, that's what Joseph Junior has been led all his life to expect.

However, old Sir Joseph recently married a very young woman and now has a baby named Lucius, who's a full forty years younger than his half-brother. A codicil was added to the will, bequeathing Orley Farm, the smaller property, to his infant son. Joseph Mason angrily disputes the will after the old man's death but loses the case. Peace has reigned for twenty years, but something outrageous is about to be unleashed. Fast forward to the start of this book.

Samuel Dockwrath, a disgruntled former tenant of some Orley Farm land, approaches Joseph Mason with strong evidence in his favour that's been lying dormant for two decades. It appears that Lady Mason forged the signatures on the will, anxious to provide for her own baby son. (For some time, Trollope makes her guilt crystal clear without stating it outright, so this is no spoiler.) Now Lady Mason, a valued friend and neighbour to many, may be arrested as a felon. And Lucius, a forward-thinking young experimental farmer whose high principles tend to be black and white, has no inkling of his mother's dodgy maneuvre on his behalf.  

We don't want to see her suffer the consequences of a crime based on the tenderest love, which may include deportation to the colonies. And we certainly don't want to see grumpy, greedy Joseph Mason take over Orley Farm, which he'll rent out to the smug and odious Dockwrath. Not when his young half-brother has exciting plans to maximise its potential. So are we readers supposed to hope the lie will win out? Lucius Mason once rejected his mother's suggestion to consider studying for the law, since he has an idea that all lawyers are basically dishonest. Little does he know his mother may count on that very thing, for his sake! 

Mr Thomas Furnival is the barrister defending Lady Mason. He's fallen prey to her charm, although he's convinced of her guilt, and his devotion to her cause has caused friction in his own marriage. (Oh dear, many of us could tell you that passive aggression and sulky guilt trips don't work on guys, Mrs Furnival. It just makes them uptight and defensive, and therefore more inclined to blame you to justify their own behaviour.) 

Sir Peregrine Orme, the local landed gentry, is the stately old widower in the mansion next door. He falls in love with Lady Mason and longs to rescue her from her plight by marrying her, to the chagrin of his grandson, young Peregrine. And Sir Peregrine's daughter-in-law, Edith Orme, is one of the loveliest characters in the book; a gentle and gracious friend who takes doing a friend's dirty work to a whole new level.

It's interesting how both opposing parties use scripture to strongly justify their questionable attitudes. Lady Mason reasons that she was taking the precedent of the biblical matriarch Rebekah, who was prepared to cheat to gain an inheritance for her beloved son, who would otherwise have been left out in the cold. And arguably the principled and energetic young Lucius turns out to be a 'better' heir than his vitriolic older half-brother, just as Jacob trumps Esau. For his own part, Joseph Mason is all about wreaking righteous vengeance on the head of the woman who prevented him receiving his full inheritance. This dour, pitiless man prides himself on carrying out the letter of the law. 'All that I have done from my youth upward,' were his thoughts about himself.  

There are also plenty of amusing side-characters, such as the travelling merchant, Mr Kantwise, who carts around what sounds like the Victorian version of an IKEA ensemble and assures everyone that wooden indoor furniture is going out of vogue, and iron is where it's at. What I appreciate about Anthony Trollope is his fairness in showing the strengths and weaknesses of all his characters. His narrator sometimes tends to interrupt the flow of conversations, but since his voice has the sense of humour I enjoy, it's all good. 

Trollope is very much easier to read than his contemporary, Charles Dickens. This book took me a steady fortnight to read rather than the full month I'd expected to put aside, based on Dickens. The ethical dilemmas and awkward relationships of Orley Farm guaranteed that I kept turning pages, but I still can't decide whether I consider the ending of this one disappointing or satisfactory. Perhaps all that can be said is that it is, in a way, inevitable. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟½

   

My 2024 Reading Agenda

Happy New Year, friends and followers. We welcomed 2024 by watching fireworks on the beach at Brighton after a free train ride. 

My most delightful news is that we've finally erected a new pride and joy. This street library is the carpentry project my hubby has been working on for quite some time. It is now up and running out by our street side fence. We've had it operating for less than a week and already I'm finding it great fun to facilitate excellent quality free books to the community. Ever since I first started hunting down these little free libraries, I've dreamed of joining the network. It's finally happened. Such a wonderful outreach for a bookworm, don't you think? 

Incidentally, it's also been set up as a Pokemon pit stop. A passionate neighbour on our community chat FB group came and did that. 

Now, I've been dedicated to delivering a weekly, book themed blog post on Thursdays or Fridays for quite some time. 2023's is complete. I'll have another crack at it for 2024, although a few factors might slow me down. 

1) I've had a hankering to re-read some good novels which I've already reviewed. It won't be necessary to give them two reviews. 

2) I might spend some time working on my fiction projects. I'll share more about this when (or if) they come to fruition.

3) It turns out I've been functioning for at least the last few years on an empty tank. I've started 2024 with a much-needed iron infusion. I didn't know how urgent it was until I had some blood tests the day before Christmas Eve. They were my first since 2019. Oooh, now I understand why I've been puffing and panting while climbing slopes and doing housework. Maybe I should slow down in general. 

However, I'll see how I go. Since this blog is one of my favourite hobbies, I may well end up with 52 posts after all. If you'd like email notifications whenever I add a new post, just click the subscribe button in this blog's toolbar. I peomise you'll never be spammed, and you won't miss a single one either, however frequently or infrequently I post.

For the past few years, I've been adding a new blog page for the start of each new year. In 2022 it was my Trixie Belden Marathon, which was a burst of nostalgia I adored. Last year at the start of 2023 I added my Agatha Christie, Queen of Crime page, which is more of an ongoing, slow burn. For 2024 I've decided to add Spiritual Classics. That'll have to be uplifting, right? I've already added a list of older posts to kick it off, and you'll see that fiction titles trump non-fiction for now. 

I'll finish off with a rough agenda for the start of this year. No doubt I'll latch onto something unanticipated which will snowball. But for now, I have these four Pulitzer prizewinning titles picked up from various places, so I'll factor them into my early reads of the year. I've also acquired a good handful of WW2 fiction, including a couple that were gifts. It's time I got stuck into them. And of course I'll include some Victorian novels. I haven't missed a year of at least one Dickens novel since 2017 when I started my quest to read all his major works. It's taking a while, but too much Dickens all at once makes my head explode.   

I hope you'll stick with me, enjoy my reviews and discussions, and share your own reading journey during 2024.     

2023 Top Ten Wrap-Up

It's hard to believe another year is almost done and dusted. I'm happy with my reading and reflections throughout 2023 and I've also ticked off enough Creative Writing and Communication subjects at Tabor College to acquire my Graduate Diploma. At the end of each year I re-assess whether I should keep this blog going, since it's time consuming. The same twofold reason makes me say YES again. Since I'm always writing anyway, it's another good outlet for me to hone my craft and rave about books at the same time, which I've loved doing from the time I was tiny.  

Here, in no particular order, are the ten shining lights of 2023, from among the 50+ books I read and reviewed. Please click on the titles, for my reviews of each. 

1) Demon Copperhead. Barbara Kingsolver's award-winning retelling of Dickens' classic novel ticks every box. It's a modern mirror in every way. The young hero Damon Fields is arguably even more charismatic than his model, David Copperfield. And this story's counterparts to Dickens' other characters make me smile and prove that human nature doesn't change. (This was a library book and therefore not in my stack photo.) 

2) Little Dorrit. This year's pick from Dickens himself has put the grim Marshalsea Prison on the map of places to visit while in London. The story aimed to show the corrupting and personality-changing influence of big money, especially in the form of sudden windfalls. It is also full of deeply buried family secrets and sudden disaster.

3) Adam Bede. More Victorian drama, this time from George Eliot. I appreciate her charming pastoral touches and her pioneer spirit in venturing to focus on working class families, rather than the gentry who were normally highlighted in novels of her era. Eliot's books are valuable historical documents as well as excellent stories. This one is all about the huge impact of youthful indiscretions and the struggle to earn back trust once it is lost.

4) Treasures of the Snow. The snowy mountains of Switzerland make a great backdrop for this juvenile tale of unforgiveness and revenge. The main girl and boy, Annette and Lucien, are both excellent protagonists-cum-antagonists. And their two elderly mentors, Annette's grandmother and Lucien's unlikely friend, the gruff old man of the mountain, drop some truly wise lines we are never too old to take to heart. 

5) The Man Who was Thursday G.K. Chesterton's teeming and colourful imagination brings us a fanciful, picaresque version of his own turn-of-the-century London. Gabriel Syme is a double-agent opposed to anarchy who completely misrepresents the characters of his fellow agents, who are all named after the days of the week. 

6) Oliver Twist. I read two Dickens titles this year and they both make it onto my annual Best-Of list. This sweet and humble 11-year-old finds himself the pivot around which all types of low-life from the London underworld swarm. And they all have their reasons. He's in almost too deep to be rescued for the peaceful, respectable lifestyle which he craves.

7) The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. This must be my year for finally catching up with famous classics about exceptional boys. This is an amazing tale about a misguided morality issue, and the 13-year-old whose heart prompts him to do the right thing, while his conscience accuses him of doing serious wrong. The great Mississippi River forms the backdrop of the action. 

8) The Grapes of Wrath. Anger is a great prompt for social justice, when the right person wields his pen. John Steinbeck was furious enough about the plight of the displaced tenant farmers who were forced interstate to find work during the Great Depression to create the ultimate Dust Bowl novel. Several members of the down-and-out Joad family have become mouthpieces and icons of a movement which was just ripe to happen. Especially Ma, the family cornerstone; and Tom, the straight-talker with his heart for revolution. 

9) The Happy Prisoner. I read this one way back in January and it's remained in my Top Ten all year. Oliver North, a young war veteran who has lost his leg, narrates this story from his bed where he's recuperating surrounded by quirky family members. The fact that his voice held me captive throughout the novel proves that any modest setting will suffice for a truly witty and winning personality to shine. And we can benefit from Oliver's hands-on revelations about busting bad moods. 

10) The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. The more I read over the conversations of these impressionable, adventurous, superstitious and energetic boys, the more waves of nostalgia wash over me. We don't have to have been alive in the mid-1800s to remember how seriously we took our play-acting before we hit High School. If we have forgotten, I reckon the chats of Tom's gang will whiz us back decades.   

So those are my ten top reads of 2023 and when I looked over my spread of options, they were all clear stand-outs.  

Honourable Mention - Spare I'm giving this controversial memoir a quick plug because when I revisited all this year's books, I re-read my prediction that it might be among my top ten reads. Sorry Harry, it's not even close. Yet if I extended my list to 15 or 20 it might be a contender. In spite of all the flak he got for writing it, I can see how Prince Harry felt a humanitarian obligation to lift the lid on his disturbing lifestyle which made him an exhibit just for being born, and a magnet for the world's heartless media.   

Wooden Spoon - Naw, I won't be mean enough to award one this year.     

 I wish you all happy reading and holidays as we swing into 2024. I'll touch base early in January with my plans for this blog in the year to come. 

'Hercule Poirot's Christmas' by Agatha Christie

I never planned to review two Agatha Christie novels back to back on two consecutive weeks, but hey, it's Christmas week. It seemed a no-brainer to give the slot to this quick and entertaining Yuletide murder. 

MY THOUGHTS:  

This could be called catastrophe at Christmas time.

Simeon Lee is a detestable old man who invites his adult sons and their wives home to Gorston Hall for a Christmas family reunion, seemingly out of sudden sentimentality in his old age. But really it's to insult them, set them off against each other and enjoy the resulting mayhem. This is arguably a book about reaping what we sow. Old Simeon gets what's coming to him in one of Agatha Christie's more gruesome murder scenes. 

At the start, Christie dedicates this mystery to her brother-in-law, James, who'd joked that her crime scenes were getting a bit anemic in his opinion and needed the occasional brutal bloodbath to spice them up. Agatha hoped this would tick his boxes. She has Simeon Lee's throat cut with a loud, spine-chilling scream and blood spattered over upturned furniture and smashed ornaments. And when the family burst in on the scene, Simeon Lee's daughter-in-law, Lydia, quotes Lady Macbeth when she remarks, 'Who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him.' 

Of course it's almost farcical that Lydia would have been cool and collected enough to drop such a corny line at such a shocking moment, rather than just a one-word oath or a scream. I guess for Agatha it all compounded the effect of James' Christmas gift. 

In all honesty, this story is a seasonal melodrama from start to finish. The son characters are all typecast caricatures. Was the murderer Alfred, the gentle conformer who claims to love his dad? Or David, the sensitive artist who loathes his father because of the heartache inflicted on his gentle mother? How about George, the tubby politician whose parasitic lifestyle is threatened by Simeon? Or Harry, the flashy and arrogant Prodigal Son who throws his weight around with no scruples about who he offends? Could any of their wives possibly have committed a crime so appalling? Maybe it was Pilar, Simeon's only granddaughter, the bloodthirsty young woman with Spanish heritage from her other family connection. 

Police Superintendent Sugden is on the case and getting off to a thorough start of investigations. The Chief Constable, Colonel Johnson steps in to lend a hand, and his houseguest turns out to be none other than... drumroll... Hercule Poirot! 

The setting isn't as festive as I'd expected. There is not a decked-out tree or wreath in sight, although as the characters themselves point out, the savage slaughter of their patriarch dampens the jollity. I just thought some trimmings might have been put up beforehand, but perhaps if anyone had the nerve to hang a sprig of mistletoe anywhere near this resentful, brooding mob, it might have backfired badly and caused another murder. 

The colonel is initially surprised to be summoned to a murder scene at Christmas time, as he assumes no crimes take place in a holiday period of cheer and goodwill. Poirot argues that irritability brought on by overeating and subsequent indigestion makes Christmas a prime time for murder, because people who don't feel inclined to be amiable have put themselves under more of a strain to appear so. His conjecture seems spot-on with the Lee family. 

I was pleased with the revelation of the murderer. I'd truly been wondering how Christie could pull off her Wow! factor with such standard suspects, any of whom would elicit a 'Meh,' from me. She manages though. It's a cheeky and audacious effort by the crook, accidentally helped along by the red herring masquerades of certain others. Taken altogether, the whole set-up of this one is way over the top, but I think Agatha Christie knew a crime writer can get away with lots at Christmas time when readers are inclined to be more indulgent.

🌟🌟🌟