Elephants Can Remember

A few years ago, I embarked on a mission to (re)read all of Agatha Christie's books. This book happened to be the final installment in the Poirot series. To be honest, I've grown a bit weary of the character after reading eight consecutive Poirot books, but I can hardly blame Agatha Christie for that. The fault lies with me.

The Poirot series comprises around 36 books, and what strikes me is the consistent quality that Christie maintains throughout. Although not every book is of the same caliber, they all offer enjoyable entertainment. It's quite unpretentious.

In the last book of the series, Poirot is depicted as old and confined to a wheelchair due to arthritis. He's residing at Styles, which has been transformed into a pension. This brings the series full circle, as Poirot's initial case in the UK occurred at Styles. Poirot orders Hastings to visit him, and Hastings discovers that his daughter is also there. His wife had died in Argentina, and he returned to England. To be honest, Hastings seems like an old nag in this book. It's a bit out of character since we've never seen him as a husband or father, and all of a sudden, he's aged, and he has a 21-year-old daughter, behaving like an overprotective father. Although the timeline works out, this theme was never explored in the series.

Poirot informs Hastings that a murderer is present at Styles, but he refuses to reveal the culprit's identity because Hastings is an open book to others. Poirot already has an idea of who the killer is and their motives, deviating from the standard formula where Poirot himself is also in the dark.

It takes until two-thirds of the book before the first murder or suicide (who can tell?) occurs. Then, towards the end, the final curtain falls for Poirot, leaving Hastings in despair. But, for the last time, Poirot explains everything.

Agatha Christie finishes this series in style(s).

Alas not one of Christie's best that's for sure, maybe be due to the big age she was at when she wrote this book. The overall mystery was largely quite predictable and most of the novel consisted of Ariadne Oliver rambling on about various things that had no relation to the investigation what so ever. Although, Poirot moments made the book overall redeemable.

I loved the little moments with Mrs Oliver, and her approach to solving crime. However–

slight spoilers ahead–

I was hoping for another twist at the end. I saw the main twist coming, and I was actually expecting the plot to go one step further. In the end, there were several threads left open that could have really gone together, and it felt like they'd been neglected.

I'm definitely not the first reviewer to say that, and it's totally understandable given how late in Christie's career this came out. I still had fun with it as a character study, so my advice is just be along for the ride and don't put too much stress on the puzzle! :)

Halfway through the book, when the twin sister is introduced, the solution becomes intuitively apparent. Since every Christie that I had read before always brought up an ingenious solution, I dismissed it, thinking that it couldn't be this obvious.

Unfortunately, it came out to be true, and that's the worst thing I can say about a Christie novel. The way it was structured and the stodgy dialogue pretty much gave the mystery away quite some time before the conclusion. You could extract a soap drama from the melodramatic ‘reveal' which felt cheesy enough to be used for a Margherita pizza.

Elephants can remember but this was a forgettable book.

I am coming very close to finishing all of Christie's mysteries chronologically. Compared to some of her others, this one is bleh. Very predictable (identical twins...hmm...) and repetitive (mention the elephant metaphor one more time...) with lots of ideology about how crime is genetic. Not her best.

Lesser Christie, but still a pleasure. Worth it, if you're a fan.

I grew up with several shelves' worth of Agatha Christie books in the built-in bookcase above the stairs, but I only ever read one short story or novella. I borrowed a few books from my parents the last time I visited, and the first sentence of this one introduced a novelist. What writer doesn't enjoy reading about novelists? So I started with this one.

The story was fine, interesting and engaging enough, but it lit none of the fires that Sayers usually does for me, or that Hammett and Highsmith recently did. I might go on to read By the Pricking of My Thumbs and The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side because those are the only titles that have stuck with me since my youth, but I don't think I'll miss much if I leave the rest be.

While the mystery itself was predictable, I liked the interactions between Hercule Poirot and the mystery writer Ariadne Oliver as they hunt for “elephants” for help in solving the mystery of the Ravenscrofts' deaths.