Elephants Can Remember: Agatha Christie's Last Hercule Poirot Novel

Was it suicide or was it murder? That is the question at the heart of this Agatha Christie novel about memory and the influence of the past. More than once the saying "past sins cast long shadows" is noted. 

Elephants Can Remember is striking in the manner in which it is written. It's told in a series of dialogues that take place in various situations. I can't help but think of Erle Stanley Gardner's Perry Mason dramas in which descriptions are sparse, story details emerging via dialogue.

The two main characters in this story are Hercule Poirot--that odd little Belgian with a singular mustache and an abundance of brain matter ("little grey cells") that is perpetually in motion--and Ariadne Oliver, a famous author of murder mysteries, who says she has no idea how murders take place in real life, that her works are simply fiction.

The central event in this story involves the deaths of an apparently happy husband and wife about 15 years earlier. They were found on a hillside near their home shot with a gun that lay between them, the only fingerprints present being their own. Did he kill her, then take his life in remorse? Or did she shoot him first? Did they agree to die together like this or was something else at play.

The Ravenscrofts had a daughter Celia, who was Mrs. Oliver's goddaughter. Celia, somewhat rudely to Mrs. Oliver's thinking, asks Mrs. Oliver to help her. Celia is about to marry a man, but rumors of mental illness in the family were stirring up concerns, and this double death on a hillside was never properly resolved. Mrs. Oliver turns to Poirot and the two set about to see what the elephants can remember.

The story is especially fascinating to me after having read Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go this summer, which is essentially a story made of memories. Insights from later in life illuminate earlier moments and give them new meaning. 

Painting by Ms. Wendy Rouse

Agatha Christie had been publishing for more than half a century when she wrote this, and was purportedly experiencing the onset of dementia at the time. This undoubtedly contributed to her interest in the subject of memory. It may also have contributed to the writing style which some Amazon reviewers  criticized sharply. One call it her worst book and says, "Skip it." Another says, "Stick with her earlier books." Yet others say, "Don't miss this one."

Ironically, I have found it exceedingly compelling. And I like the set up. A writer of murder mysteries teams up with the greatest contemporary sleuth to solve a long forgotten mystery. 

Each person they talk with reveals new details about the Ravenscrofts, thereby patching together an image in the reader's mind. But which details are accurate? How much is true and how much is rumor? Aren't we all subject to partially flawed memories because of our biases, our tendency to incorrectly interpret stories we heard, or question their veracity?

I remember a kid on our block when I was growing up who tortured grasshoppers and seemed like a troublemaker. A year or two after he moved away a rumor circulated that he'd been killed because he was sticking his head out the window of a school bus which got too close to a telephone pole. What stuck with me from the story was that he was told not to stick his head out the window like that. 

In retrospect, the story doesn't seem credible, but we believed it, perhaps because it seemed consistent with his character. (Wouldn't the rear-view mirror hit the pole before something sticking from the window? Wouldn't the bus have to be over the curb for that to happen?) Alas, we did not have Snopes in the 60s and here's what Snopes has to say about a similar urban legend.

I should mention here that I am "reading" audio books from the library, and they are a special joy in part because of the readers. I love the way Poirot says "Ah!" -- or rather, the reader has Poirot say "Ah" with a delightfully crisp little puff. The pacing feels peaceful and reflective. It's been a good read.

Related Links

A New Thought Regarding Agatha Christie's Crime Fiction
Shooting an Elephant (Notes on an Essay by Orwell)

A New Thought Regarding Agatha Christie's Crime Stories

Many years ago I had a friend who was going through an Agatha Christie binge. Actually, both he and his wife were thoroughly absorbed in reading her crime novels, ever trying to solve the crimes before Miss Marple or the little grey cells of Hercule Poirot could. 

At the time, I was involved in other pursuits, reading “serious literature” in preparation for a writing career. I can’t lay all the blame on Covid, but my reading in 2020 has included a long list of books from the John Sanford and Agatha Christie catalogs. In reading the latter, something dawned on me that I hadn’t noticed before.

“Ah, my friend, one may live in a big house and yet have no comfort.” — Hercule Poirot

How many of you grew up in a home with maids and butlers? As I reflect on the numerous Christie stories I’ve read, I can’t seem to recall any involving a family like my own. In addition to murders taking place in exotic places, such as the Nile or on the Orient Express, we have countless stories of people with wealth, whose servants are under suspicion, or who have both city and country homes. 

I can only guess that part of the appeal of her work may have been the voyeuristic aspect of peeking in on the lifestyles of the rich and, sometimes, famous. It was easy for her to write accurately about this lifestyle, for it was the lifestyle she was acquainted with. She didn’t have to make it up. In her autobiography she states that she herself grew up with three servants in her household.

“Servants, of course, were not a particular luxury–it was not a case of only the rich having them; the only difference was that the rich had more,” she wrote in her autobiography. 

This is a very different set of life circumstances than my father’s grandparents were experiencing in Eastern Kentucky at the time. (Agatha Christie was born in 1890.) They were illiterate and poor, but resourceful, scratching out a livelihood halfway up the side of a mountain, and even being generous.

Yet, even growing up with a nurse and nanny, Ms. Christie claims that her family was not rich. Rich people had cars. Her family did not. 

Two other areas of expertise show up in her stories. When it comes to poisons, her knowledge is vast. That is, the more stories you read, it’s surprising how many ways to poison people there are. She gained this knowledge first hand. No, not first hand by poisoning people, but by working in a dispensary during the two world wars. 

Another area of specialized knowledge came from marrying an archaeologist in 1930. While her second husband was actively exploring digs in the Middle East, she was no doubt picking his brain and digging for details that would give veracity to her murders in Egypt and elsewhere. 

She’s to be commended for her tenacity. Her first six books were rejected by publishers. Nevertheless, she persisted despite the lack of interest from editors, until a door opened in 1920 and “the rest is history.” She became a master of the craft. One title alone, And Then There Were None, sold 100 million copies worldwide.

If these are not new thoughts for you, then I suppose I'm just late to the parade. One of the first bits of advice that young writers are frequently given is this: Write about what you know. This may be why you don't find butlers and housemaids in my stories. More often than not it's just a character trying to figure out the meaning of his life.

* * * 

J.K. Rowling Proves She's Equal to the Masters with The Cuckoo's Calling

When it comes to cuisine, the Brits haven't really given us much worth chewing on compared to France and Italy. But when it comes to the mystery/crime genre in literature, the former great empire is second to none, offering up endless thrillers from the likes of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie, household names whose books have sold more than a billion copies worldwide. Should it be her aim, J.K. Rowling has demonstrated with a master's hand that she has what it takes to own the crime fiction throne in the 21st century should she desire it.

Rowling (pronounced "rolling") already proved she knows how to tell a story that keeps readers turning pages. Her Harry Potter books have already sold 400 million copies. Under the pseudonym of Robert Galbraith she released a completely different kind of story. That is, different from the books that established her name and made her a small fortune.

The title of the book comes from "A Dirge" by Christina Rosetti. The poem, a lament, sets the tone well for everything that follows. What's more, it signals to readers (or at least those who already know this is Rowling) that her Harry Potter books are part of the past and something more serious lay ahead.

A prologue follows, a quote from quote from Telephus by Lucius Accius, a Roman tragic poet of the second century B.C.: "Unhappy is he whose fame makes his misfortunes famous."

I read these words and thought of the author's fame and her proximity to the lifestyles of the famous. It was the perfect preparatory remark as we waded into the story.

The book's hero/detective is Cormoran Strike, a name that immediately strikes you as a character that will be memorable. Expectations for a good read are stoked from the moment he bursts onto the scene.

They say that one way to get readers to like and root for a character is to hurt him and Rowling hurts him quite a bit before it's over. Before the story even begins Rowling has hurt him. He was wounded in Afghanistan, lost part of his leg, and must where a prosthetic limb. Back in England his detective business is pretty much washed, and the woman he'd given his heart to has left him high and dry.

Into this mix comes Robin, an efficient and helpful secretary from a temp agency, whom Strike can't afford but, as it turns out, can't afford to lose as she's present when that most important client arrives. She's a character we suspect will be coming along in the sequels, should they follow, a 21st century Watson to assist our 21st century Holmes.

The story features a suicide by someone rich and famous, a beautiful supermodel who apparently leapt to her death from her top floor balcony one wintry night. The building is one designed for the exceedingly wealthy, with security guards, a private pool and the other embellishments that wealth affords. The occupants are few, one on each floor. A hard-boiled movie producer and his cokehead wife occupy the second, a superfame hip hop artist Deebie Macc will be moving into the next level, and Lula Landry the upper story. (This is no high-rise.)

The police have already settled the case, proving it had to have been a suicide. Her brother thinks otherwise and presents Strike with a handsome advance to get to the bottom of it.

For the past couple weeks this books served as my evening nightcap, a little reward to look forward to at the end of the day. Fortunately, despite protestations from within, I had the discipline to put it down and get my needed rest. To be honest, it was exceedingly difficult the last few days. I could have easily stayed up all night to finish in one fell swoop, as I had with Mario Puzo's The Godfather when I was young.

Not all the reviews at Amazon.com are five star but I tend to agree with this one: It's hard to put your finger on exactly what it is that makes The Cuckoo's Calling such a terrific new Private Investigator crime fiction debut. On the surface it seems straightforward, unexceptional and unambitious, everything fits the established conventions, there's nothing immediately new that stands out, and yet it's an utterly compelling read with strong characters that wraps you up completely and thrillingly into the investigation.

The pacing was good throughout, and despite the intricate complexities with regard to characters and details, Rowling's Cormoran Strike is a good note taker and processor of information, which he is continually sifting so that the reader has all the clues in hand as he or she goes along.

This whodunnit is not formulaic. All the characters are superbly drawn, and a whole bunch of 'em had motive.

I suspect there will be a film deal on this. I recommend the book.