Take a photo of a barcode or cover
1.44k reviews by:
emberology
Possibly started from the worst Christie book. Others have stated that this subject of world wide conspiracy theories is too big for her and I definitely understand why. Overall ridiculous and too fast paced. The worst : not at all believable.
After an Agatha Christie reading challenge last year, I still had some steam left after my final spurt, so I just had to read some more. I'm going to take a little break now from everything Agatha Christie, but The Mirror was a great story to end my trip. After two chapters, I realized I had seen the adaptation in the Miss Marple TV show and this time also remembered the murderer, but that didn't stop me from enjoying how the events and the final reveal unfolded (or how the tragedy in Gene Tierney's life fitted the picture).
The location is once more St. Mary Mead, but this time something's different:
"One had to face the fact: St Mary Mead was not the place it had been. In a sense, of course, nothing was what it had been. You could blame the war (both the wars) or the younger generation, or women going out to work, or the atom bomb, or just the Government - but what one really meant was the simple fact that one was growing old. Miss Marple, who was a very sensible lady, knew that quite well. It was just that, in a queer way, she felt it more in St Mary Mead, because it had been her home for so long."
The new supermarket represents the changing times. Miss Hartnell is bewildered by all the packaged goods and laments the trouble one has to go through when wandering around the aisles and trying to find proper unprocessed food in convenient sizes. And the long queues! One of the new villagers in turn wonders why anyone would want to grow their own vegetables when it's so easy to buy them from a supermarket.
A change in the class structure has occurred as well: the domestic helpers are now educated girls and the new housing estate called the Development has brought a new set of villagers that differs from the originals. Marple feels very nostalgic about the world changing, and it's easy to imagine she echoes some of Christie's own sentiments. However, she never comes across as bitter, more like resigned and in peace. When you get older, you're bound to see the world becoming a different place.
On the other hand, inspector Craddock reveals the downside of the quaint village life that undoubtedly hides old-fashioned views on life under its calm exterior: "'There are things that are preferable to academic distinctions[.] - - - One of them is knowing when a man wants whisky and soda and giving it to him" (referring to the domestic role of women).
A part of the spirit of remembrance and nostalgia are the references to Christie's older Miss Marple novels. The hated Colonel Protheroe, who was murdered at the beginning of The Murder at the Vicarage (1930), is still remembered by Miss Marple (I'm beginning to think she never forgets anything). Griselda Clement, the vicar's wife who appeared in that same story with her husband, sends Christmas cards every year. Gossington Hall from The Body in the Library (1942) is once more the location of a murder mystery, although a lot has changed.
Marina Gregg with her glamorous movie star looks settles down in Gossington Hall with her husband, the director Jason Rudd. It's the murder of the babbling Heather Badcock (a surname almost as tragic as her murder) that creates a splinter in the lives of the modern movie people. It's something much worse than the "[n]aked men and women drinking and smoking what they call in the papers them reefers" the 96-year-old Mr. Sampson is so afraid of. I'd be more scared of the spiked daquiris Heather had to endure. Regular ones I approve.
Once more, the solution of the mystery is dependent on taking note of what people say and if they truly mean it. It's easy to make a hasty conclusion about something, but the truth is that we all often say things that could mean so much more to someone else or are mistakenly construed as offensive. Christie knows readers have their expectations, so she never lets them believe there might be something more to certain things, until everything starts to unravel. Despite knowing the murderer, it's interesting to witness the structure Christie uses to reveal the culprit, and how she hides the clues in plain sight. You never even think about suspecting that the particular moments hide something else, because they seem so mundane and obvious.
In the end, the mystery is simple, but the novel is not. It makes very clear that kindness is not enough when you have no consideration for how others might be affected by your actions, and that the real threat doesn't come from the outside, but from the souls of humans. After all, "the human beings were the same as they always had been".
Miss Marple is also refreshingly present here, and she has even more of that familiar glint in her eye than usual. It's especially satisfactory to see how she enjoys duping her annoyingly fussy caretaker, Miss Knight, by sending her on errands to the farthest shops possible.
"A little strong drink is always advisable on the premises in case there is a shock or an accident. Invaluable at such times. Or, of course, if a gentleman should arrive suddenly".
Miss Marple throwing some truth out there.
The location is once more St. Mary Mead, but this time something's different:
"One had to face the fact: St Mary Mead was not the place it had been. In a sense, of course, nothing was what it had been. You could blame the war (both the wars) or the younger generation, or women going out to work, or the atom bomb, or just the Government - but what one really meant was the simple fact that one was growing old. Miss Marple, who was a very sensible lady, knew that quite well. It was just that, in a queer way, she felt it more in St Mary Mead, because it had been her home for so long."
The new supermarket represents the changing times. Miss Hartnell is bewildered by all the packaged goods and laments the trouble one has to go through when wandering around the aisles and trying to find proper unprocessed food in convenient sizes. And the long queues! One of the new villagers in turn wonders why anyone would want to grow their own vegetables when it's so easy to buy them from a supermarket.
A change in the class structure has occurred as well: the domestic helpers are now educated girls and the new housing estate called the Development has brought a new set of villagers that differs from the originals. Marple feels very nostalgic about the world changing, and it's easy to imagine she echoes some of Christie's own sentiments. However, she never comes across as bitter, more like resigned and in peace. When you get older, you're bound to see the world becoming a different place.
On the other hand, inspector Craddock reveals the downside of the quaint village life that undoubtedly hides old-fashioned views on life under its calm exterior: "'There are things that are preferable to academic distinctions[.] - - - One of them is knowing when a man wants whisky and soda and giving it to him" (referring to the domestic role of women).
A part of the spirit of remembrance and nostalgia are the references to Christie's older Miss Marple novels. The hated Colonel Protheroe, who was murdered at the beginning of The Murder at the Vicarage (1930), is still remembered by Miss Marple (I'm beginning to think she never forgets anything). Griselda Clement, the vicar's wife who appeared in that same story with her husband, sends Christmas cards every year. Gossington Hall from The Body in the Library (1942) is once more the location of a murder mystery, although a lot has changed.
Marina Gregg with her glamorous movie star looks settles down in Gossington Hall with her husband, the director Jason Rudd. It's the murder of the babbling Heather Badcock (a surname almost as tragic as her murder) that creates a splinter in the lives of the modern movie people. It's something much worse than the "[n]aked men and women drinking and smoking what they call in the papers them reefers" the 96-year-old Mr. Sampson is so afraid of. I'd be more scared of the spiked daquiris Heather had to endure. Regular ones I approve.
Once more, the solution of the mystery is dependent on taking note of what people say and if they truly mean it. It's easy to make a hasty conclusion about something, but the truth is that we all often say things that could mean so much more to someone else or are mistakenly construed as offensive. Christie knows readers have their expectations, so she never lets them believe there might be something more to certain things, until everything starts to unravel. Despite knowing the murderer, it's interesting to witness the structure Christie uses to reveal the culprit, and how she hides the clues in plain sight. You never even think about suspecting that the particular moments hide something else, because they seem so mundane and obvious.
In the end, the mystery is simple, but the novel is not. It makes very clear that kindness is not enough when you have no consideration for how others might be affected by your actions, and that the real threat doesn't come from the outside, but from the souls of humans. After all, "the human beings were the same as they always had been".
Miss Marple is also refreshingly present here, and she has even more of that familiar glint in her eye than usual. It's especially satisfactory to see how she enjoys duping her annoyingly fussy caretaker, Miss Knight, by sending her on errands to the farthest shops possible.
"A little strong drink is always advisable on the premises in case there is a shock or an accident. Invaluable at such times. Or, of course, if a gentleman should arrive suddenly".
Miss Marple throwing some truth out there.
One of those Christie stories I've seen as a (quality!) TV movie, but as per usual, I'd already forgotten the murderer. What I do remember from the movie is the suspense. I didn't get that much here, except maybe at the end. The story started in a kind of humouristic tone with the prickly but gentle descriptions of the characters, but then that subsided and the atmosphere changed into a more flat and slightly boring middle part, gathering pace when more murders started occurring. Mitzi's presence as a goofy and crazy foreigner started to get old really fast and kind of irksome and out of place, although there was briefly some potential to deal with the post-war trust issues.
The mystery itself was still great overall (albeit a bit heavy-handed and repetitious with the clues towards the end), and the second half gradually amped up the volume, making me stay up way too late and just run through the last 80 or so pages. Confusion and making things seems different than they actually are my favourite things in mysteries. What really impressed me was the identity of the murderer, though. I had a pale inkling about how things would turn out, but the way the revelation was actually handled was skillful and completely convincing. It's not easy to make a murderer like that to seem an almost pitiful lost cause who could have easily turned out differently, while at the same time also appearing to be an obvious nutcase. It's not the first time either that I've noticed Christie's acuity when it comes to human behaviour and character.
The mystery itself was still great overall (albeit a bit heavy-handed and repetitious with the clues towards the end), and the second half gradually amped up the volume, making me stay up way too late and just run through the last 80 or so pages. Confusion and making things seems different than they actually are my favourite things in mysteries. What really impressed me was the identity of the murderer, though. I had a pale inkling about how things would turn out, but the way the revelation was actually handled was skillful and completely convincing. It's not easy to make a murderer like that to seem an almost pitiful lost cause who could have easily turned out differently, while at the same time also appearing to be an obvious nutcase. It's not the first time either that I've noticed Christie's acuity when it comes to human behaviour and character.
.jpg)
Here Moominpappa gets the chance to tell with his own words about his younger years. A dismal childhood in an orphanage and the feeling of not being loved or appreciated changes into great adventures with Hodgkins and his ship. Moominpappa's narrative voice is pompous and self-centered but not the least bit annoying. The satirizing of the memoir genre gives a special air to the whole book.
Several of my favourite scenes from the tv-series are included: a female Hemulen gets rescued from Groke and tries to push her educational values on the ship's bohemian coffee-drinking crew, the deep sea dive with all the mysterious fish with lamps, and the slightly inept Island Ghost.
Two characters have been more hazy to me until now. Joxter is very similar to Snufkin, only a bit more lazy. Snufkin seems to have inherited all his good qualities: criticism towards excessive rules, drifting, and enjoying life. Mymble is busy popping out new kids every once in a while and seems to be very liberal in her parenting (reading scary stories to her brood at night and merely laughing at their shenanigans), not to mention the affair with Joxter. Good for you, Mymble, although I'm not sure Joxter is a very suitable father.
There's of course the one thread throughout which gives this a more serious undertone. After gaining his independence Moominpappa constantly struggles between the need of having his own family and the need for adventure. There's a beautiful and poignant passage at the end where Moominpappa muses that friends are starting families or gaining a new position in the world. They begin to be scared of the rain while he is becoming increasingly lonely.
Although it becomes evident later on that despite of settling down Moominpappa never abandons the possibility to go on an adventure, and learns to balance his needs with domesticity, the conflict between the two opposite desires (along with the feeling of disappointment of never achieving enough) takes the book into darker waters and paves the road to later themes.
"I cannot stress enough the perils of your friends marrying or becoming court inventors. One day you are all a society of outlaws, adventurous comrades and companions who will be pushing off somewhere or other when things become tiresome; you have all the world to choose from, just by looking at the map… And then, suddenly, they’re not interested any more. They want to keep warm. They’re afraid of rain. They start collecting big things that can’t fit in a rucksack. They talk only of small things. They don’t like to make sudden decisions and do something contrariwise. Formerly they hoisted sail; now they carpenter little shelves for porcelain mugs."
"'Well,' said Hodgkins, 'perhaps he really is interested in everything, only he doesn't overdo it. For ourselves there is always one single interest. You want to become. I want to do. My nephew wants to have. But the Joxter just lives.'
'Simply lives,' I said. 'Anybody can do that.'
'Mphm,' Hodgkins said."
Several of my favourite scenes from the tv-series are included: a female Hemulen gets rescued from Groke and tries to push her educational values on the ship's bohemian coffee-drinking crew, the deep sea dive with all the mysterious fish with lamps, and the slightly inept Island Ghost.
Two characters have been more hazy to me until now. Joxter is very similar to Snufkin, only a bit more lazy. Snufkin seems to have inherited all his good qualities: criticism towards excessive rules, drifting, and enjoying life. Mymble is busy popping out new kids every once in a while and seems to be very liberal in her parenting (reading scary stories to her brood at night and merely laughing at their shenanigans), not to mention the affair with Joxter. Good for you, Mymble, although I'm not sure Joxter is a very suitable father.
There's of course the one thread throughout which gives this a more serious undertone. After gaining his independence Moominpappa constantly struggles between the need of having his own family and the need for adventure. There's a beautiful and poignant passage at the end where Moominpappa muses that friends are starting families or gaining a new position in the world. They begin to be scared of the rain while he is becoming increasingly lonely.
Although it becomes evident later on that despite of settling down Moominpappa never abandons the possibility to go on an adventure, and learns to balance his needs with domesticity, the conflict between the two opposite desires (along with the feeling of disappointment of never achieving enough) takes the book into darker waters and paves the road to later themes.
"I cannot stress enough the perils of your friends marrying or becoming court inventors. One day you are all a society of outlaws, adventurous comrades and companions who will be pushing off somewhere or other when things become tiresome; you have all the world to choose from, just by looking at the map… And then, suddenly, they’re not interested any more. They want to keep warm. They’re afraid of rain. They start collecting big things that can’t fit in a rucksack. They talk only of small things. They don’t like to make sudden decisions and do something contrariwise. Formerly they hoisted sail; now they carpenter little shelves for porcelain mugs."
"'Well,' said Hodgkins, 'perhaps he really is interested in everything, only he doesn't overdo it. For ourselves there is always one single interest. You want to become. I want to do. My nephew wants to have. But the Joxter just lives.'
'Simply lives,' I said. 'Anybody can do that.'
'Mphm,' Hodgkins said."