Dead Man’s Folly plot hole?

****SPOILERS as always****

With Hattie Stubbs missing, it seems likely a recent photograph of her would have been circulated in the papers and far and wide. Etienne de Sousa just had to catch a glimpse of one, and surely a lot of plot would have fallen apart.

The impetus for the shape of the disappearance of Hattie, as devised by the villains, was the fact that Etienne de Sousa had written to announce his imminent arrival. They knew that although it had been some years that Etienne had met Hattie, he would not have been deceived by an imposter– Poirot points out this motive in the final chapter. Hattie must disappear. Since the Tuckers are being nuisances as well, they devise murder and disappearance in a way that casts suspicion on De Sousa.

I just don’t see how they could have gotten round the “photograph in the paper” problem all too well…

‘Don’t bother about me,’ [Mrs Oliver] said to Poirot. ‘I’m just remembering if there’s anything I’ve forgotten.’

Sir George laughed heartily.

‘The fatal flaw, eh?’ he remarked.

‘That’s just it,’ said Mrs Oliver. ‘There always is one. Sometimes one doesn’t realize it until a book’s actually in print. And then it’s agony!’ Her face reflected this emotion. She sighed. ‘The curious thing is that most people never notice it. I say to myself, “But of course the cook would have been bound to notice that two cutlets hadn’t been eaten.” But nobody else thinks of it at all.’

–Dead Man’s Folly

Dead Man’s Folly vs. Greenshore Folly, and the mystery they solve together

As many Poirot fans know, Christie’s novel Dead Man’s Folly began its life in a different format: a novella called Hercule Poirot and the Greenshore Folly. This 1954 story was intended as a fundraiser for Christie’s church, but it was never originally published as such, and the similarly-titled Miss Marple story “Greenshaw’s Folly” was used for the fundraiser instead. Christie fleshed out her Poirot novella and it became Dead Man’s Folly, published in 1956.

Hercule Poirot and the Greenshore Folly was finally published in 2014, in a cute little hardcover edition with lovely artwork from Tom Adams. I was eager to read it and see how it compared with Dead Man’s Folly. (Spoilers to follow!)

The overall plot and much of the content were identical. The first chapter of GF reads almost verbatim as Chapter I, Part I of DMF. After that, the “missing content” became much more evident, and those familiar with the novel DMF will notice that most of the interesting, character-probing dialog between Poirot and the various suspects is nowhere to be found. The sub-plot with the Legges’ personal and political difficulties is gone, as is the majority of the police investigation, including their run-ins with Hattie’s visiting cousin. The murder of Marlene doesn’t actually take place until about two-thirds of the way through the novella.

There are also several name and character changes. “Nasse House, Nassecombe” was originally “Greenshore House, Lapton.” Etienne de Sousa was “Paul Lopez,” red-headed Sally Legge had been a blonde “Peggy Legge” (an incredibly fortunate change, one feels), Captain Warburton was “Warborough,” and Merdell was “Merdle.” The rest of the Tucker family, including Marlene’s sister, disappear entirely. Mrs Legge takes the name of Esmerelda instead of Zuleika for her fortune-telling persona, after all. 🙂

There are a few more interesting alterations. In the short novella, the girl hiker persona adopted by the false Hattie had not only the chestnut curls and the peasant scarf, but also spectacles. (Nerdy side-note: Poirot speaks both French and Italian, so if he had wanted to share a few words with the Italian signorina who was hitching a ride in his car, he could have done so. DMF makes it sound like there’s an insuperable language barrier there. But anyway…)

In the novella and unlike the final novel, Poirot actually recommends Mrs Oliver to the police as a suspect, in order to be properly thorough! 😀

There is a bit of shifted dialog between GF and DMF when Poirot and Hattie are discussing Devonshire. In the original novella, Hattie asks Poirot if he likes Devonshire; he replies that it is nice in the daytime, but that there aren’t any nightclubs! This dialog is swapped for the characters in the final novel, which seems rather more in keeping with the characteristics of Poirot and Hattie.

But of all the differences, there was one really fascinating detail that stood out to me, and helped me to make sense of a bit of Dead Man’s Folly that I’d never really understood. In the novel, there is a part of Poirot’s denouement where, speaking with Mrs Folliat, he says: “…When you talked of ‘Hattie,’ you were talking of *two different people*– one a woman you disliked who would be ‘better dead,’ and against whom you warned me ‘not to believe a word she said’– the other a girl of whom you spoke in the past tense, and whom you defended with a warm affection.” I had never understood where Poirot was getting the “better dead” comment, because Mrs Folliat never tells him anything like that in DMF. BUT! In Greenshore Folly, Mrs Folliat says the following: “Oh! How I hope that she will never come back” and “It would be better if she were dead– so much better.”

Mystery solved! Mrs Folliat’s words somehow didn’t make the edit into Dead Man’s Folly (not my edition, anyway), so we only have vestiges of that original bit of GF hinted at in the novel. (Interestingly, in Greenshore Folly, Poirot never does point out to Mrs Folliat that she herself gave him the clue to Hattie by seeming to describe her as two different people.)

Greenshore Folly is an interesting read for the Poirot completist– but Dead Man’s Folly certainly comes across as the properly-edited and expanded form of the story, especially when it comes to points of crucial character development. The artwork and the added notes appended to the novella are as much worth the price of admission as the rest of it. 🙂

Miniature room box #2: The study

I’ve been mostly finished the miniature study for some time, but I’ve been waiting for ages to get the shelves I ordered. Well, they came yesterday at last! There are still one or two things I’m waiting on, a standing lamp in particular, so I borrowed a lamp from the sitting room to help light things up in the meantime. Here it is…

Here’s a bit of an overhead view of the desk. On it, you can see a little green-shaded desk lamp, a calendar (anachronistically dated 2006!), a black vintage phone, a letter-holder, an inkstand and letter-opener, and that little verdigris antelope statuette that Poirot has on his desk in the latter episodes. (I made that out of Sculpey and painted it.) Also part of the desk set is a blotter, a fountain pen, a magnifying glass, and a bridge score pad. Perhaps Poirot is investigating Cards on the Table?  🙂  I made the chair on the right with some bendy brass rods and upholstered it with the same fabric I used on the window curtain and the cushions in the sitting room– the chair is actually very unstable! I was delighted to have found the brass clothing valet in the back left there, which you can also see in his study in the latter episodes. The floor lamp actually belongs on a table in the sitting room; I brought it here for a bit more light. The little bonsai tree I also made, not liking the ones I saw in stores, and put it on a little Art Deco table with scissors on the shelf beneath.

You may have seen this shot before, but I’ve made changes. The Japanese prints are still there, but I’ve exchanged white lilies for yellow irises (in reference to the story). The mini clock here really works; it’s very Art Deco-looking. I scored it off a friend of a friend for $1.  🙂  The ashtray includes a tiny black cigarette, the kind it is Poirot’s affectation to smoke. The brass coat rack really doesn’t belong here; that’s where the standing lamp is supposed to be. It would be an inconvenient location for a coat rack. But I live in hope of one day making a fourth room, a hallway and perhaps Miss Lemon’s office.

The scene of Prague appears in several places in the earlier episodes, most noticeably in the sitting room of his flat. I stuck it here in the study with a picture light. The mini barometer I made as a model of the one in his second flat (see the first bit of Third Girl for a good glimpse of it). I believe that one was loaned to the set by Suchet, who apparently collects barometers. The chess set is pretty self-explanatory. The umbrella and cane stand is meant to be transferred to Future Room #4 as mentioned above.  🙂  The Chinese curio shelf includes such trifles as a ball of malachite, a sheep figurine, a compass, a crystal specimen or two, and a Chinese coin.

The bookshelf is one of the most fun parts of the room. Delightful to fill it up! The “pottery” on the top shelf are actually dollar store beads.  🙂 I moved things from elsewhere to the shelf, including the running deer statue, the copy of Murder on the Orient Express, the copy of Blue Train (on the top right, propped up), and the globe that I used to have on the desk.

Detail. Notice the golden sphinx figurine (a reference to Poirot’s journeys to Egypt). I also moved First Steps in Russian to the bottom left shelf, as it was too big to stand up!

On the second shelf on the left, you can see a Pieta statuette; it is holding up the loose books in that shelf, including the one right next to it: Agatha Christie’s A Pocket Full of Rye!

More detail. On the bottom shelf is a series of medical reference books– VERY useful! Also, I painted up a series of Ariadne Oliver novels, which are next to them. You may remember that Poirot has a set of her books in his office, right behind his chair.  🙂  The turquoise “jar” is another bead.

How does Ariadne Oliver know the ethnicity of Mr. Shaitana?

In the television adaptation of Cards on the Table, Mrs. Oliver and Poirot have a conversation about the mysterious Mr. Shaitana at an art exhibit.

Mrs. Oliver: “Oh look, it’s Mr. Shaitana. What is he? An Armenian? A Greek?”
Poirot: “No one knows. All that is known is that he is one of the richest men in London.”

After the murder is committed, Mrs. Oliver has plenty of theories about a motive for her (then-) favorite suspect, Dr. Roberts. “Ideas? Ideas? I’ve at least five. For example… say Shaitana was a moneylender, Roberts was in his clutches… or, Shaitana ruined his daughter. Or his sister, if he had a sister… or, or, Roberts is a bigamist and Shaitana knew it… or, how about this: Roberts secretly married Shaitana’s long-forgotten second cousin and stands to inherit a fortune in Syrian gold…”

The background of Shaitana is supposed to be a mystery unknown to the general public. But Superintendent Wheeler will later reveal the fact that he knows this detail, which causes Poirot to suspect that Wheeler may have been on closer terms with Shaitana than he had previously let on.

Constable: “Perhaps he was Egyptian?”
Wheeler: “No, he was Syrian.”
Poirot: “Syrian?”
Wheeler: “Yes.”
Poirot: “How do you know this?”
Wheeler: “It’s in the files.”

So Shaitana is Syrian… and Mrs. Oliver’s reference to “Syrian gold” in her brainstorming cannot possibly have been mere coincidence. How on earth did she know this detail about Shaitana and when did she find out?

Mrs. Oliver and Poirot – acrylic on canvas board

A little 8″x10″ sketch, with an image from Cards on the Table. This particular painting has a very “book illustration” sort of feel to it. I think it’s a combination of factors: the way the image feathers away at the edges, the occasional appearance of dark outlining, the overall simple looseness…

I love the apple in this picture. A nice summary of the characters in this shot, I think.  🙂

Missing out on domestic love: 15 moments of loss

One of the most touching aspects of Christie’s characterization of Poirot are those glimpses of loneliness inherent in a character who has missed out on the personal relationships that lead to marriage and family life. ***As always, spoilers for everything!***

*************
‘I, Madame, am not a husband,’ said Hercule Poirot. ‘Alas!’ he added.

‘I’m sure there’s no alas about it. I’m sure you’re quite delighted to be a carefree bachelor.’

‘No, no, Madame, it is terrible all that I have missed in life.’

-Dead Man’s Folly 
**************

Viewers of the television series will notice that the theme develops and increases over time, especially in the filming of the novels. And yet, glimpses can be seen very early on in the series as well. Some are subtle, and others are blatantly obvious. There are nuances and shades of meaning in these fleeting and poignant moments, but they all share the same characteristic of wistful loss. Here I present 15 gloriously-rendered examples.

1) Third Floor Flat– Perhaps the first clear example in the series. It is unique, and pleasing for Christie readers, in that we get a glimpse of the nostalgic admiration of a girl who resembles an old flame of Poirot’s before the matter is explained to the viewer. So, readers who know the story are gratified to have “inside knowledge” of what lies behind the faraway smile, which will be explained in later scenes. ‘If I were your age, monsieur, without doubt, I too would be in love with her.’

2) The Plymouth Express– Another early example, this is the first clear indication we have that Poirot would very much have liked to have been a father and a husband. The expression says it all, in response to Halliday’s: ‘You’re not a father, Poirot. You don’t know what it’s like, trying to bring up a daughter all on your own… no wife to talk it over with…’ Also, it is perhaps the first time the viewer becomes annoyed with the lack of tact of those who remind Poirot what he’s missed out on!

3) The Double Clue– This one’s pretty obvious, of course, and it has the added novelty of a presently-kindled flame, with some returned affection, yet the impossibility of the relationship going anywhere. There are several other meditations on personal loss throughout the episode, from the loss of wealth to the loss of one’s homeland. But all the poignancy is concentrated in loss of a chance at love.

4) The Chocolate Box– It’s fascinating that this particular story was, when scripted, turned into another sort of dead-end romance, this time from Poirot’s past. I suppose it gives Virginie a little more “connection” to the plot than she seems to have in the original story, and since the incident is buried long in the past, one can get away with adding romantic elements. An added nuance to the sadness-tinged reunion with her is that Poirot has a glimpse of what life could perhaps have looked like for him, had les Boches not driven him from his native Belgium as a refugee: sons in native uniform, and a wife of his own country. ‘…I was just saying to Jean-Louis that he was always the most fortunate of men.’

5) Lord Edgware Dies– A rarity in that Poirot, Hastings, Japp, and Miss Lemon are all together at dinner when the conversation turns to Poirot’s lamented bachelorhood. It’s a subject that is clearly uncomfortable for Poirot, made weirder with the flattering attentions recently given him by Jane Wilkinson. Also, we have another indication (suggested as early as Third Floor Flat) that Poirot considers himself too old, and that the time of la tentation is lost in the past. ‘But now, alas, I think it is too late.’

6) The Mystery of the Blue Train– This is one of several examples of the awakening of loneliness and loss that comes, not from a romance of his own, but from some pretty young friend Poirot has met in the course of the case. In this instance, he has a travelling companion to whom he becomes an ‘avuncular.’ Like a daughter (in fact, she had lost her father and has a cry on his shoulder about it), Katherine Grey is a somewhat needy character who was taken under his wing. When she leaves him unexpectedly to go off on her own, he is struck again by the pain of solitude. The film ends when, after she leaves, he is left by the water’s edge, contemplating the happy, carefree family before him (consisting, incidentally, of an older woman, her much younger husband, and her grown daughter). This loss strikes me as resonating more with the parental sadness of the empty nest– although in Poirot’s case, his patronage came and went very quickly. I’m also reminded of one of Poirot’s iconic lines at the end of the book: ‘Life is like a train, Mademoiselle…’ And ultimately, he is fated to travel it alone. And we’re all sad.

7) Death on the Nile– A classic example, and one that works beautifully with the plot, which is seething with the desperation to which love might drive a person. ‘Love is not everything,’ Poirot says to Jacqueline. When she disagrees, he is forced to admit that he does not really understand this on a personal level, and is faced once again with the great loss of his life. At other times in his literary journey a la Christie, Poirot has expressed relief that he does not have an ‘ardent temperament’ because it has saved him from many embarrassments. But in this case the overwhelming devotion to a lover– an alien experience to Poirot– sparks pity in him, and he permits the couple to commit suicide rather than face the executioner. The precise reasons why– Poirot always has precise reasons– are spelled out a little more thoroughly in the book than in the adaptation.

8) After the Funeral– ‘The journey of life, it can be hard for those of us who travel alone, Mademoiselle.’ These are words, reminiscent of the theme in Blue Train, that Poirot states to the murderer– interestingly, very shortly after she has unknowingly incriminated herself with a fatal clue. In this context, the realization of loss and loneliness in life is displayed as a reality that transcends class, and the point of commonality Poirot finds here gives him an insight into the killer’s motive. To find another example of Poirot’s sympathy towards a woman who works as a lower-class companion and is driven to crime in a desperate bid for money, see “The Nemean Lion” from The Labours of Hercules.

9) Taken at the Flood– In this story, Poirot finds himself as a sort of godfather-type figure to Lynn Marchmont, whose father was a good friend. And, Lynn happens to fall in love with a mass murderer (!)  This causes an awkwardness similar to Death in the Clouds and Three Act Tragedy– “Er, I’ve kinda just sent the guy you love to the gallows… sorry/not sorry?” But I include this example here because Lynn, of whom Poirot is ‘most fond’ and who had been planning on staying in England permanently, decides to leave again. ‘Write me a letter, Monsieur. I like your letters.’ It is a familial sort of loss for Poirot, and one full of turmoil in light of the bizarre circumstances of her departure.

10) Cat Among the Pigeons– This is one of the most curious and enigmatic moments of “wist” in the series. It is very fleeting moment in which Poirot, in the course of observing the various teachers at Meadowbank School, is watching a ballet lesson. A row of girls are at the barre and are practicing positions in pointe shoes. Poirot watches them with the most startling expression of bittersweet nostalgia on his face. Of what exactly is he thinking? The touching innocence of youth, uncorrupted by matters of crime? The disappointing fact that he himself was not to be the father of a daughter? Someone please ask David Suchet… he’s the only one who can read Poirot’s mind…

11) Third Girl– Another case (and a particularly disturbing one) in which the young couple in love awakens in Poirot his own sense of loss. This is one of the most emotional reactions Poirot has in the series; even Mrs. Oliver comments on his tears. ‘…The mystery that even I, Hercule Poirot, will never be able to solve… the nature of love…’

12) The Big Four– Almost everything in the final series touches on this theme. There’s a really interesting moment in this script when the housekeeper describes the fastidious and irritating habits of the deceased man (a bachelor), and Poirot appears to have a moment of sober enlightenment concerning his own bachelorhood. It’s very subtle and lends a moment of personal poignancy to the scene where the viewer wasn’t expecting one. Japp: “Did he ever marry?” Housekeeper: “Oh, no! Can you imagine it? What woman would have him? Woe betide you if you tried to move one of his precious books, or tidy up his bloomin’ letters!”

13) Elephants Can Remember– Poirot says to Zelie: ‘Mademoiselle, neither you nor I are married. We may never be married. But they should be.’ It’s the argument that finally persuades the chief witness to come forward with her story.

14) The Labours of Hercules– The scriptwriters were going really, really heavy on the “wist” here. The first example of the theme is Poirot’s visit to his doctor. ‘You’ve had a remarkable career– at the expense of having a family! Nothing wrong with that, but that’s what you’ve chosen…’ This is adding insult to the injury of having “failed” as a detective, and these two horrible realities dovetail to serve as the impetus to reunite Poirot’s chauffeur Ted with his lost love. This successful reunion contrasts with the totally tanked relationship with Vera Rossakoff, another grievous “what might have been” in the realm of personal relationships. There’s also an unprecedented use of fake wistfulness, when the Countess speculates what’s going through Poirot’s mind when he sees Alice, her daughter. ‘He looks at you… and he sees the life he might have had.’ We learn later that this isn’t actually what Poirot is thinking– he’s too busy having his suspicions alerted by the girl’s biting of her thumb!

15) Curtain– Was television ever as moving as this? Throughout his life, Poirot had never really brooded excessively on his regrets concerning love and family– rather, we see him repressing the pain and struggling past it. We don’t see this brooding in the final days of his life, either, as he focuses his attention on this most difficult of his cases. If anything, Hastings becomes the torch-bearer on the pain of loss in this episode– his wife, his daughter (to Franklin and Africa), and Poirot himself. In such a context, this line of Poirot’s, one of Christie’s own, is a most meaningful one: ‘My heart bleeds for you… my poor, lonely Hastings.’  Poirot knows, on every count, that Hastings is about to be left very much alone in the world. A lifetime of domestic loneliness endows him with sympathy for his friend’s losses, the blessings of which he had himself never enjoyed in the first place. Hastings finds himself choked up at this sentiment of Poirot’s, possibly because in spite of the fact that the man is near death and has struggled with loneliness for so many years– he will even die alone– it is Hastings’ loneliness, not his own, that most concerns him in those final moments.

Ariadne Oliver – pencil and pastel

With Zoë Wanamaker, of course.  Judging by the hair and the outfit, I’m thinking the image is probably from Cards on the Table? You’d think I’d know…

I’m going to have a cup of tea now.

The painted miniature books (5)

Zoë Wanamaker cuts a dashing figure as Ariadne Oliver in the Poirot series. Everything from the voice to the love of apples to the delightful, eccentric absent-mindedness is portrayed to perfection. I put Mrs. Oliver on half of the six Poirot novels in which she features, and I consider them some of my best covers. She seems to actually make Poirot look more like himself; perhaps that’s true of the acted roles as well.  🙂

So accurate is the episode’s detail to the character of Mrs. Oliver that even the particular hairstyle that she’s experimenting with in the book– the “fringe”– is portrayed. I say nothing about the accuracy of the script in general, but that’s a post for another day.  😉

I’ll say it again– the costumes for this character were AMAZING. And for the Dead Man’s Folly cover, it seems to have affected the Poirot painting, too– that is probably the best overcoat I have ever painted (even if it is an inch long).

The Elephants Can Remember cover is one of my absolute favorites. The clothes and the faces came together so well. I was really delighted with Poirot’s left sleeve and the glints of bling, and the lady’s clothes and accessories.

Mrs. Oliver is magic, that’s all there is to it.

Poirot and Ariadne Oliver – painted sketch

Poirot and Mrs. Oliver, from Third Girl. Acrylic on watercolor paper.

The style for this little painted sketch was different from my usual; I decided to be a little crazier with the colors, brushstrokes, and the dark outline. The picture was created because someone on the Internetz happened to say that they wished there were more Mrs. Oliver pictures or some such. (I told you I create fan art on slight provocation.) The one problem is that it was done on very poor-quality watercolor paper. The paper was actually disintegrating as I used it. Ugh.

But I hope to do more pictures of Mrs. Oliver in the future. Zoë Wanamaker was splendid with David Suchet in the series, and matches very well to the book description of the character. And I know that she’s great fun to paint, because the three miniature books I painted with her picture all turned out very well. Her outfits are glorious, too.  🙂