Today, September 15, is Agatha Christie's birthday. I won't give her age as it wouldn't be polite, but let's just say she would be pretty old if still alive.
I have written before about my longtime enjoyment of Dame Agatha's fascinating mysteries starring Hercule Poirot (my favorite) and Miss Jane Marple (her favorite). I also wrote about researching her passion for archaeological splendors for a paper I presented to a group four years ago (here and here).
I recently read Crooked House for the first time and was struck anew by how pleasant it is to be in her world of stately homes, family secrets, afternoon teas, formal gardens, nannies, and tutors.
I came to Crooked House through a column in The Guardian called Novel Recipes. It takes a look at certain foods mentioned in various works — say, the macaroons in The Enchanted April, or potted beef from The Wind in the Willows — and creates the recipes. For Crooked House, it was the ice cream sodas mentioned near the end of the book.
This tale doesn't feature either of her famous detectives. Instead we have Charles and his fiancée Sophia trying to solve the murder of Sophia's grandfather Aristide Leonides. Sophia has put the marriage on hold until the murderer is unmasked.
There are plenty of suspects. All of Aristide's family rub up against each other in the large house — two sons, two daughters-in-law, Sophia and two other grandchildren, a former mother-in-law, a nanny, a tutor, and the young new widow.
Fortunately, Charles's father is assistant commissioner of Scotland Yard so he is privy to the goings on both in the house and in the investigation. Ms. Christie writes in the prologue that Crooked House is one of her favorites. I can see why: the denouément is quite surprising and dark.
But back to the ice cream sodas — one of my favorite childhood treats. When I would spend the night with my grandparents, I would beg for one as an after-dinner indulgence. My grandmother kept those little glass bottles of Coca-Cola chilled in the refrigerator which combined with vanilla ice cream made for a cold, fizzy, foamy delight.
So, in honor of Dame Agatha's birthday, I treated myself to an ice cream soda today. A very simple one from McDonald's — I ordered a vanilla ice cream and a small Coke. Combine, et voilà.
I think she would approve. Happy Birthday!
Currently I am On the Road to Little Dribbling with Bill Bryson. Well, actually I am reading his latest book about his own trip to Little Dribbling via a whole multitude of English towns, villages, gardens, beaches, pubs, tea shops, and walking paths. I hope to be finished with this splendid journey in time to write about it next week.
In the meantime, here is your chance to take a little road trip of your own. Below are links to a series of Interviews with Bookstores that I discovered on the Guardian. They come by way of Literary Hub which is a part of the Guardian Books Network. (I hope that is enough attribution...)
Each interview gives a brief history of the bookstore, Q&A with the owner, and staff recommendations. Get out your To Be Read list and enjoy.
I will be the first to admit that The Bedside Guardian may not be for everyone. Since 1952, the national British daily newspaper, The Guardian, has published a yearly collection of its best writing and cartoons. I happened to have stumbled upon, in The Booklady Bookstore in Savannah, four of its volumes: numbers 28 (1978-79), 30 (1980-81), 33 (1983-84), and 35 (1985-86).
The newspaper was founded in 1821 as The Manchester Guardian which it was known as until 1959.
Each volume that I bought has an introduction written by (respectively) John Cleese, William Golding, Peter Ustinov, and Salman Rushdie. Each edition runs about 250 pages.
And what glorious pages they are. I have finished Volume 28 and have been treated to stories on the Dryfly trout fishing season; a profile on actress Cathleen Nesbitt on her ninetieth birthday; novelist Angela Carter and her thoughts on cats and the Marquis de Sade; a trip through the major cities of India with Peter Jenkins; an afternoon spent with Lady Rothermere musing on what makes for a perfect party; and a long weekend spent in Outer Mongolia.
This sentence, from the article on the trip to Outer Mongolia, stopped me cold:
All that said, the journey has the most extraordinary rewards; the landscape has an arid, unfamiliar beauty bathed in a light sparkling air so pure it tastes as though it has never even been snuffed by a yak.
I find it fascinating to read of world events from 30 years afar. There are mentions of Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and other world leaders of the time. There are tales of British politicians who are strangers to me. And, any story about cricket or football pretty much had me totally, but delightfully, confused.
It doesn't really matter what person or topic is being covered, the writing is so crisp and conversational that I look forward to bouts of insomnia just so I can make these bedside books my companions in the night.
