I was pleasantly surprised by this one.Let's get the bad stuff out of the way first. It's not very plausible at all. Somehow we have two spies and three murderers in the same block of apartment buildings. Somehow all these people co-exist independently not knowing of each other's existence. Also, there's too much information in the book freely given by one person -- a little girl with a broken leg in a constant state of boredom. One is reminded of the photographer in Rear Window. Furthermore, for the puzzle itself, it is definitely more fun to think about in the beginning. By the end, it runs out of steam. She has a hard time maintaining the initial excitement over the whole book.So why do I think the book is four stars? It's the sophisticated self-reference..First, this book famously has a chapter entirely devoted to critiquing other mystery writers and schools of thought. I didn't know some of the writers referred to in this passage, but I did find her criticism of hard boiled very interesting. Chandler understood Christie well enough to know it was the puzzle that interested her more than the reality of the story, but since he wasn't interested in the puzzle he found her books irritating to read. Now, I don't like this criticism because I find his books very unrealistic, too, in their own way. They very much have their own style, but Raymond Chandler's world of one-liners and random fate is nothing like the real world either. I didn't entirely agree with her criticism that hard-boiled is just violence for violence's sake. That oversimplifies it way too much. Nevertheless, it is very interesting to find self-referential literary critique like this in a mystery story itself.However, the aspects that I really like are the way it is narrated and the design of the murder itself. First, a lot of the story is written or reported by someone who is essentially us -- someone who has all the facts and sees it all from a limited view, but then can't put the facts all together. In this sense, we ARE Colin. Now, a lot of information of great importance is also spotted by an outside observer, someone who takes an interest in others and spies on them with opera glasses. This person reflects who we are as voyeurs within in the book. Last of all, there is the mystery itself. It is a copy of an unfinished manuscript by a thriller writer -- that is, it is planned out (the clocks et. all) according to the story of a mystery book itself! I believe Christie is commenting here about how much mystery stories seem to influence us as readers if we get too obsessed with them. What a clever way to point this out! Not only is it intelligently self-reflexive, but it comments on just how addictive they can get if we read too many of them.Poirot is also in better form here than some other Christie books I've read recently, even though his actual time in it is very short. Also, we have people who are good at playing roles and acting - a mainstay in Christie's books since the early 1930's. Implausible as it is, I'd recommend starting here for a late Poirot -- her sense of self-reference is getting more and more intelligent over time. I do worry, though, this will be the last good book with Poirot in it -- the reviews for the remaining Poirot books aren't positive at all. We'll see though!
This Hercule Poirot murder mystery, is rather unusual. Since he isn't in it. Very much.Poirot is old. And spends the few pages, he appears in. At his London apartment. Rich but bored.Reading fictional and nonfiction books. About of course, killings.Don't worry folks. He comes to the rescue, at the last chapter.In fact, 3rd from last.And a few others. In the middle of the novel.The plot ,Sheila Webb a stenographer typist. Goes to a house, for a routine assignment.The door is unlocked. As she is informed, beforehand.And enters the sitting -room. And waits for the owner, to arrive. A blind woman named Miss Pebmarsh. But surprise ,surprise, a dead man is found. On the floor. With a stab wound, in his chest.Things like this. Aren't common in the small English town, of Crowdean.In comes Miss Pebmarsh, and almost steps on the victim.Like a bat out of hell.The screaming Sheila,says,Eeeeeeeeek! Coming out the door. And collides with a secret agent outside.Colin Lamb,not his real name.He is investigating a spy ring(Crowdean isn't so quiet after all).Set in the cold war era, of the early turbulent, 1960's.Being quite attractive.Colin doesn't mind getting hit. By the young lady(love at first sight,or is it touch?).Stepping inside. He notices six clocks, in the deceased, room. Four showing the time as precisely 4:13...More than an hour. Ahead of the actual .What can that mean?And the owner says. She has only two clocks there ! The criminal brought them ? This being England. Everyone sits down and has a cup of tea. Awaiting the police to come.Detective Inspector Hardcastle. A friend of Mr. Lamb, is extremely puzzled.When he looks over the scene. The neighbors are no help.They haven't seen anything,no strangers around.Just the ordinary.And then one clock , vanishes...Days pass and still no one can identify. The dead man. This is the strangest murder, the policeman. Has ever had.And it will not be the last.Fine story by the always great,and talented Agatha Christie.
Do You like book The Clocks (2004)?
One of my favorite things to do when reading an Agatha Christie book is to try to figure out who the culprit is. I'm sure many people enjoy doing this and might be part of the popularity behind mystery novels. We like to apply ourselves, try to puzzle it out, see if we can beat the author to the reveal.Most of the time I feel like Christie gives enough information for the reader to follow the mystery completely, and possibly figure it out beforehand. It's always fun to look back after finishing and see what clues you may have missed. This book falls short of that for me. There's two different stories that improbably collide at the end, and I can't really see that the reader is given the same information that Poirot is given. I know that she was not a particular fan of her creation, and it almost seems like she wanted the rest of the world to see why she disliked him so much through this book.While still not a bad book, there are so many coincidences and overused ideas (someone may know something, but alas! they are killed before they can share what they know) that I'd have to classify this book as a near miss. A little underwhelming, like my crappy cover.One thing I'd like to do once I own all of the Agatha Christie books would be to read them in publication order. Often there are references to characters I'm not familiar with because I'm reading a later book. Also, Poirot is much older and retired in many of my books, and I think she had definitely gotten tired of him by this point.
—Shelby Lee
I find it telling that The Clocks is subtitled "A Hercule Poirot Mystery". This is not really a Poirot novel. Charles Lamb, our narrator, is quite able to solve the case himself and Poirot actually has very little "screen time", so to speak. He is here because, by this time in Christie's long and fruitful career, fans expected her to feature her famous detective (and no doubt he was good for sales). Even so, I do not think of this as a Poirot case. There are also a few references to Poirot and Charles' mutual friend Ariadne Oliver, but she does not appear. Rather a pity, I think, since I love Mrs. Oliver. The Clocks is a mixed bag of a novel. When Dame Agatha is at her best, she can create an incredibly complicated puzzle with a million pieces that, amazingly, fit perfectly in the end. When she is not at her best, some of the pieces are forced to fit awkwardly or not ever fitted in at all. Alas, The Clocks is not her best work. There are traces of her excellence in the fine characterization of all the neighbors on the Crescent (which put me in mind of Mary Roberts Rinehart's "The Album", one of my favorite mysteries of all time). However, the novel suffers from an unecessary spy element shoehorned in, as well as too many red herrings and a solution that the reader could not possible deduce from the facts given. One feels that Christie started with a fine concept, got midway through, tired of it, and rushed the conclusion so that she could move on to her next project. She wrote better mysteries directly before and after The Clocks, so I think of this as a bit of a lull in a strong era in her career, although it is by no means wholly without merit. The final twist had some of her usual flair, and the romantic subplot is rather endearing.
—Laurel Young
For those whose HP is always Poirot and not Potter, this is a great installment. A weird murder involving a dead man found in a blind woman's house with four strange clocks reading 4:13, a reluctant spy and a young shorthand typist as our Young Love couple, a thoughtful police inspector and Poirot offering a solution from afar based upon his trashy mystery habit. Lots of odd stereotypical characters and a clever reason for all of them - Christie making fun of Christie and of her own imitators, with a tiny bit of Dangerous Pinkos to boot.Is it wrong to wish that all of Christie could be set between the wars? There's something depressingly modern when her novels are set in the depressingly modern 1960s, it's harder to laugh at the weirdies.Read on audio
—Kate
