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Perform the ritual that puts me in the part
Being left to my own devices this week with a pile of unfamiliar Agatha Christie, I naturally read them one after the other. I have nothing especially to note about Why Didn't They Ask Evans? (1934) or The Sittaford Mystery (1931) except that it turned out to be a duplicate of the US-titled The Murder at Hazelmoor and I swapped it out for Dolores Hitchens' Cat's Claw (1943), but Christie's They Came to Baghdad (1951) is a reasonably wild ride of a novel which mixes several different flavors of spy thriller with a romance conducted on an archaeological dig at Tell Aswad, which I didn't even need to bet myself had been excavated by Max Mallowan. Minus the nuclear angle, its global conspiracy is right out of an interwar thriller—Christie to her credit defuses much of the potential for antisemitism with references to Siegfried and supermen instead—as is its Ambler-esque heroine gleefully launching herself into international intrigue with little more than her native wits and talent for straight-faced improvisation, but its spymaster is proto-le Carré, the chronically shabby, fiftyish, vague-looking Dakin, a career disappointment rumored to drink who never looks any less tired when dealing with affairs of endangered state. He gave me instant Denholm Elliott and never seems to have recurred in another novel of Christie's, alas. I made scones with candied ginger and sour cherries and lemon tonight.
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Thank you! In the world outside my head, it seems to have gotten an hour on Studio One in 1952, which would not have been enough time to get half the plot in—I am a little puzzled it was never re-tried, especially in the '70's or '80's when there was a big-screen boom in Christie. Its MacGuffin is preposterous, but its heroine's cheerful disregard for conventional scruples and willingness to roll with whatever weirdness the plot precipitates her into remain appealing to this day.
I can't remember if I've read that one. I'm always less certain on the one-offs, especially the spy ones - the plots often sound quite familiar to each other in summary, so I'm just: clearly it must have been one of the rompy fun ones I enjoyed and not one of the ones where I really wish she hadn't OR I did not, in fact, read that one. (Unanswerable questions.)
For what it's worth, acknowledging the inevitable intermittent period- or Christie-typicality, in this case I was glad she had.
(Why Didn't They Ask Evans? was a favourite non-Poirot or Marple when I first read them many moons ago; and unlike Ordeal was adapted very well a few years ago by Hugh Laurie, who clearly should do more like it, instead of whoever's doing some of the other more recent TV Christies.)
(. . . maybe he'll want to do They Came to Baghdad . . .)
I heard nice things about that adaptation at the time, but have never seen it thanks to its inaccessible choice of streaming services. I will see if I can get hold of it nonetheless. I enjoyed the novel, I just didn't have much to say about it beyond that!
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I suppose there are just so many Christies! By the time you've worked your way through the most iconic titles, you can just start again on the same ones, which does mainly seem to be how film adaptations and even TV ones work an awful lot of the time.
(. . . maybe he'll want to do They Came to Baghdad . . .)
He should!!
ETA: Btw, I made a post while you were very much otherwise engaged, and while that doesn't matter, a) I wanted to tell you that my b'day presents included my own copy of the 1951 Browning Version (it works; I checked) and The Stars Look Down, which I am very much looking forward to whenever I can, and b) you did ask for my thoughts on the Voysey Inheritance, and they are at the link, such as they are, if you want them. <3
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I am not getting over the four iterations of Ordeal by Innocence none of which I care about seeing any time soon. It just wasn't a problem I expected to have.
ETA: Btw, I made a post while you were very much otherwise engaged, and while that doesn't matter, a) I wanted to tell you that my b'day presents included my own copy of the 1951 Browning Version (it works; I checked) and The Stars Look Down, which I am very much looking forward to whenever I can, and b) you did ask for my thoughts on the Voysey Inheritance, and they are at the link, such as they are, if you want them.
I shall check them out! And I am delighted to hear that you have an Andrew Crocker-Harris of your very own.
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Well, no. Of course, the one consolation there is that if it's one of the Christies that people seem to adapt, there ought to be a next time, and maybe they'll finally do it right!