A few of my reviews are a bit later than I would like because my foot is suffering from a bad case of mummy rot [are their any good cases of mummy rot? -ed]. Why is my personal health relevant to this review? Because I was stricken with plague while within spitting distance of the Nile. And while I may have forcibly crawled up my own butt about how time and place can increase the impact of a novel, it is pertinent. Because reading Death on the Nile while touring Egypt was really, really cool. Not simply because I saw the same sights that the characters, but because the tourism has barely changed since the book was written nearly eighty years ago. In a land that sits in the shadow of the Pyramids, I suppose a single century is barely makes a splash.The camel I rode was named Whisky Soda; I laughed when I saw a donkey of the same name near the opening of Death on the Nile, a clear delineation of generational tourism continuity. I bought a plaster scarab, of which Jacquelline de Bellefort and Hercule Poirot would not have approved: “Is that your excursion today, Mademoiselle? Eh bien, they are picturesque—but do not spend large sums on native curios.” “Which are shipped here from Europe? No, I am not so easy to deceive as that.”I, without question, am that easy to deceive. Or, at least, I tend to get swept away by atmosphere. My gullibility—which I prefer to term active engagement in creating experiences—aided my enjoyment of my first Agatha Christie novel as much as it did while touring Cairo and Luxor. I let the red herrings ensorcell me like an episode of Scooby Doo; I never tried to outthink the plot or predict what had—or might—happen, which was also what made Gone Girl so enjoyable for me.Books are a great format for mysteries because you are alone with the words; you can let them move you at their own pace. When entertainment is social—you watch a movie with someone who has already seen it, for example—you’re constantly trying to guess what is happening so you seem clever, or saying things like, “Who’s that guy?” or, “She’s the killer, right?” so you don’t fall behind. You don’t engage primarily with the fiction because you’re trying to engage with your real-life friend or friends. “You” in this context means “me.” But it might mean “you” to you (meaning “me”), as well. This is, to you (meaning “me”), only slightly less irritating than being with someone—or being someone—that has already seen the movie and continues to say things like “Just wait!” or keeps sucking air in through their teeth in anticipation of some sort of surprise. We get it; you’ve seen the movie. Now let me do the same! I think it is so weird that the normative cultural standard is to go to the theater in a two-plus person group. I suppose the fifteen minutes before the lights dim would be less enjoyable, as would the lack of common experience to reminisce over on the trip home. Those are small prices to pay for an internal voyage into the magic of cinema, but books keep you focused because unless you have a younger sibling, no one is likely reading over your shoulder. No one is gasping right before the big reveal; the plot comes to you when it comes to you. So you don’t have to look smart in front of Dame Agatha Christie. You probably won’t. Death on the Nile is convoluted, purposefully retroactively comprehensible, and thick with intermingled poignancy and pointlessness. Great to drift away with while waiting at the airport or cruising down the Nile. And I was not the only Dinaburg that thought so. You see, through coincidence or kismet I was able to borrow a copy—not from the library—but from my dad, who had taken this very same book to Egypt seven years (nearly to the day!) before me. He has a habit of writing in the margins: about the text; about the day; about himself. And while I was pleased with the overlap I had with the characters of Linnet and Fanthorp and Miss Van Schuyler, reading about my father’s trip was even more exciting. Following his trail through ancient ruins as I read notes from his journal and eventually seeing our paths converge is probably the closest I will ever get to being Harrison Ford in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.I was about as much of an archaeologist as Indy, though I didn’t appropriate any artifacts or shoot anyone.Death on the Nile is a nice way to pass some time while you’re touring Egypt; I have no context for it outside of that country. If you have this book already, interpret that as an omen telling you to go to Egypt:“I always make my plans well in advance.” “You don’t just move on from place to place as the fancy takes you? Isn’t the latter really pleasanter?” “Perhaps. But to succeed in life every detail should be arranged well beforehand.” Heed the omen, find your way to Egypt, and know you have chosen wisely.
So if you’re a famous detective like Hercule Poirot, you’re probably steeped in murder. It’s just murder, murder, murder, all day, every day. What’s a Belgian to do? Go on vacation, of course! Tour the Nile, they said. It’ll be relaxing, they said. No one will kill anyone on your boat, they said.In case the title doesn’t give it away, Death on the Nile is a punishment of sorts for Hercule Poirot. Poor bastard doesn’t get a moment’s peace and quiet. I guess it’s payback for being so insufferably arrogant.Poirot is a badass, with one badass moustache, and this book proves that pretty definitively. Borrowing a page, anachronistically, from a television crime procedural, Christie ramps up the stakes with not one but two additional murders. The guests aboard the S.S. Karnak are all suitably aghast. It’s up to Poirot and the able, but not as sharp, Colonel Race to discover the culprit. Who killed the heiress, her maid, and the novelist? It’s like Clue, set on a boat in Egypt.The characterization here is brilliant. As with And Then There Were None, Christie spends about a chapter introducing each character in sequence. This has the potential to make one dizzy—I find this technique is far more effective in movies, because of all the different visual cues one has at one’s disposal. Soon enough, though, we are off on the cruise. We get to watch as Lynette and her husband Simon attempt to elude their stalker, Joanna. Tim Allerton and his mother just want some peace and quiet. Rosalie Otterbourne is stuck tending to her mother—I love how Christie pokes fun at her own profession here, creating a somewhat melodramatic woman novelist, albeit of a more … um … delicate type of novel than the murder mystery. There’s also Dr. Bessner and the archaeologist Signor Richetti. And Cornelia Robson accompanies her cousin, Madame Van Schulyer. Into this vast cast Christie thrusts Poirot, who wastes no time getting mixed up in all the business.It would be very easy to see Poirot as nothing more than insufferable. He spends a lot of time talking about how clever he is. But at the end of the day, he’s right. He’s not talking himself up: he’s just being accurate. Modesty on his part would necessarily be false modesty. Countless characters label Poirot a mounteback, a rogue, or a loonie, and underestimate him and think they can hide things. He always ferrets it out. (I seldom do. I am not Hercule Poirot.)In Death on the Nile, Poirot insists on playing matchmaker before revealing the identity of the murderer to Colonel Race. This is brilliant. It reminds us that in spite of his emphasis on order, organization, and cleanliness, at his heart Poirot is a romantic. He believes that the young deserve happiness; I think, in part, his obsession with the criminal element and solving mysteries is an obsession with what makes people happy. So often we are stirred to crimes, passionate or coldblooded, because we are not happy, and we think that removing someone or gaining something will make us happier. Alas, it seldom works out that way.Egypt itself does not feature so much in this book. In that respect, the Nile portion of the title indicates setting only barely—this could just as easily have been a cruise down the River Thames, though I doubt there would have been any takers if that were the case! This is a straightforward murder-on-a-boat kind of mystery, very similar in tenor and tone to The Murder on the Orient Express, which Poirot references here. However, two things elevate this and explain its presence in my omnibus of Masterpieces of Murder alongside The Murder of Roger Ackroyd and And Then There Were None.Firstly, the motives. Revenge. Lust. Love. Betrayal. So primal, much impressive. And there is plenty of motive to go around. You might or might not deduce the identity of the killer, but there are plenty of red herrings. Not only does everyone have something to hide, but everyone has something to be upset about. Christie is a master at pulling the curtain back and exposing the torrid emotions that beat beneath our breasts.Secondly, the construction of the mystery. Christie uses a combination of timing and subsequent murders to set up a twist at the very end, just as Poirot reveals the killer. As usual, trying to find the murderer is a process of elimination—but it also involves making assumptions on imperfect information. Poirot reminds us that if one isn’t willing to discard an assumption and create new theories to fit the facts, then one won’t get very far at all.Death on the Nile is certainly an enjoyable Poirot mystery. It showcases all the best about Christie’s writing, and the Belgian detective of the little grey cells is in his prime here. Part of me feels so sad that these people have to die to bring me joy. (And is it terrible that part of me doesn’t care? I mean, they are fictional….)
Do You like book Death On The Nile (1978)?
I should have known I like Christie because her stories are just simply wonderful old-fashioned crime puzzles that make you turn the pages and sigh when everything's finished. There's not much action or focusing to the crime solver's personal life which is fantastic and in a lot of ways works better than the plots of formulaic contemporary crime novels. Also, the time in which the murders are set is part of the appeal to me. For a long time I've adored the tv movies because you could actually see the lovely costumes and the stories came to life. Now I'm really pleased to have finally decided to read the original books.You might also want to try one of my favourite games, the Orient Express board game if you want to train your "grey brain cells" like Poirot.
—Suvi
Ultimately quite thrilling though parts did drag a bit for my taste. I think because we had so many characters and while they were outwardly very different from one another it was also hard to get beneath the superficial with most of them and thus harder for me to feel as connected as I like to. And I was a little disappointed that there wasn't more Egyptian "atmosphere" -- with a few brief passages as exception, the story played out on the ship very much as it might have done in the typical English country house, lots of questioning of various guests, etc. The final 1/3 of the book was quite enjoyable though with lots of surprises and startling moments. I did guess the murderer and motive quite early on but then second-guessed myself and the actual "how" of the murder totally surprised me. All in all a great mystery, focused on the plot. (Oh and it was fun seeing Col Race again! "Man in the Brown Suit" is one of my favorites!)
—Kathryn
Agatha Christie had a romantic streak, which you can see in most of her books, where an unlikely couple is brought together either by the interference of Poirot or Miss Marple. This happened several times in this book but as I learned during this re-read, there's nothing she loves more than to subvert her own tendencies. The story was very sad, not for the victim, whose personality made it likely somebody was going to kill her at some point or another, but for the murderer.Dame Christie continues her trend of setting her murders in modes of transportation, as way to disguise her "country house mystery", a plot device she created herself with The Mysterious Affair at Styles. In this case we have a boat, but there are many similarities to Murder on the Orient Express, in that the murdered person finds herself unknowingly surrounded by people who wish her harm.The narration by David Suchet was really good. You can tell his changed his Poirot's voice over the years because he really sounds different than in the series. He has such a beautiful speaking voice that it's a pleasure to listen to him.Definitely looking forward to listen the next in the series.
—D.G.
