When I first heard that author Sophie Hannah (of whom I admittedly knew nothing) was reviving Agatha Christie’s inimitable Hercule Poirot, I shook an angry fist at the sky and shouted many impolite phrases heavenward.
As pigeons scattered, parents shielded their children and two dozen people filmed me with their phones for You Tube, I vowed never to read this unwanted, unwarranted addition to the literary world.
But then I found out that Christie’s estate had given its blessing. I started to think about how I’ve read possibly all of the original HP mysteries and wouldn’t it be great if this new one somehow turned out to be OK. Then I read a review of it in the Telegraph that was actually positive. And that thing I swore I’d never do, I did.
Reader, I didn’t hate it.
The Monogram Murders is the mystery of three people killed on the same day in three different rooms of a rather upscale hotel. All three bodies are identically positioned, with a monogrammed cufflink in each of their mouths. Poirot and his sidekick – not a Hastings or a Japp this time, but a Catchpool of Scotland Yard – set off to follow a winding path of clues and red herrings, before Poirot masterfully pulls it all together and solves the whodunnit.
I was relieved to find our Belgian hero appears much the same (and – minor spoiler alert – no worse for wear after Christie killed him off in Curtain: Poirot’s Last Case). Sure, he refers to his moustaches in the singular now and is maybe slightly more loquacious than I recall, but Hannah ultimately succeeds in ensuring he remains the fussy, self-assured, but endearing, sleuth that Christie originally created.
The book is also true to the Christie trope of having numerous potential murders who are all assembled together at the end for Poirot’s final unraveling of the mystery – and what an unraveling. Because, again similar to many of Christie’s stories, this ending has so many moving parts that I would have welcomed a schematic diagram to help me through it.
But that was always half the fun of Christie – figuring out who was the real criminal and how she was going to wrap up all those loose ends in one final chapter. Hannah does a good job of giving the reader a satisfying ending and a thoroughly enjoyable read. While I thought I’d never say it, I’m happy to admit how hopeful I now am that she’ll give us another Poirot page-turner soon.
Up next: Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: And Other Lessons from the Crematorium by Caitlin Doughty, which I started last night and is so far entertaining and informative while making me hyperventilate slightly with its unblinking perspective on our ultimate, shared end.
*translation courtesy of Google because it’s been a long time since high school French