"An archaeologist is the best husband
a woman can have. The older she gets the more interested he is in her." This
was uttered by none other than Dame Agatha Christie whose second-husband was
incidentally the world famous archaeologist Sir Max Mallowan.
Reading
detective fiction has been one of my favourite pastimes since childhood. It
started with Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes mysteries and has progressed
to Paul Doherty’s historical thrillers. Many a time, I have read the same books
again and again because I have forgotten the story within an year or two. Among
these books Agatha Christie’s works stand first and foremost.
When
I look at the titles, they look familiar and though I may remember some of the
storylines very vaguely, I can re-read most of her books (except a few haunting
ones) just because of the fact that they
are so readable and so forgettable.
Most
of the time what I do is to read the blurb just to see if it rings a bell. If
it does, the book must still be vivid. Otherwise, it usually only three or four
of concentrated reading to finish a novel and the blessing is the kind of
intellectual stimulation at the end of it.
The
feeling can be compared to that of putting together a jigsaw puzzle and watch
it fall together in a kind of “aha” moment. This is not just my opinion, as
only recently I read the historian Romila Thapar’s recommendation to read Agatha
Christie mysteries to enhance gestalt thinking.
A
few of her mysteries are so haunting that I don’t even need to read the blurb
to know the storyline. For instance, I
find it impossible to forget At Bertram’s
Hotel, which is about a nightmarish world where some very innocent people
are framed for crimes they have not committed and the police recognizes a gang
of lookalikes who manage to get away with it. It has Miss Jane Marple as the detective and she is of the view that human life everywhere the same as in her
village of St. Mary Mead.
Most
of the good reads have Hercule Poirot, the Belgian as the detective. He is described
as short, with his head the shape of an egg, moustache always well-trimmed and
shining, and with good manners. He is shown as obsessed about neatness and
order, be it solving the case or his attire.
What
I still remember from childhood is that reading was mostly an accompaniment to
meals as these books were so un-put-downable. Even now there is this
fascination for reading a Poirot with a hot mug of steaming coffee and
something really good to eat. Enjoy your reading, mon ami!