When asked by Lord Snowdon in a 1974 interview how she would like to be remembered, Agatha Christie replied, ‘I would like to be remembered as a rather good writer of detective stories.’ This modest remark, coming after a lifetime as a bestseller in bookshop and theatre, is unconscious confirmation of another aspect of Christie evident from the Notebooks—her lack of self-importance. She saw these unpretentious jotters as no more precious a tool in her working life than the pen or pencil or biro she grabbed to fill them. She employed her Notebooks as diaries, as scribblers, as telephone-message pads, as travel logs, as household accounts ledgers; she used them to draft letters, to list Christmas and birthday presents, to scribble to-do reminders, to record books read and books to read, to scrawl travel directions. She sketched maps of Warmsley Heath (Taken at the Flood) and St Mary Mead in them; she doodled the jacket design for Sad Cypress and the stage setting for Afternoon at the Seaside in them; she drew diagrams of the plane compartment from Death in the Clouds and the island from Evil under the Sun in them. Sir Max used them to do calculations, Rosalind used them to practise her handwriting and everyone used them as bridge-score keepers.
Pigeon among the Cats
Part of the pleasure of working with the Notebooks is derived from the fact that when you turn a page you never know what you will read. The plotting of the latest Poirot novel can be interrupted by a poem written for Rosalind’s birthday; a page headed, optimistically, ‘Things to do’ is sandwiched between the latest Marple and an unfinished stage play. A phone number and message break the flow of a new radio play; a list of new books disrupts the intricacies of a murderer’s timetable; a letter to The Times disturbs the new Westmacott novel.
You could discover the original ending to Death Comes as the End or you could try solving a crossword clue (‘—I—T—-’); you might stumble across the draft of an unfinished Poirot story or a list of tulips (‘Grenadier—Really scarlet, Don Pedro—good bronze purple’); you could read a letter to The Times (‘I have read with great interest the article written by Dr. A. L. Rowse on his discovery of the identity of Shakespeare’s Dark Lady of the Sonnets’) or a sketch for Mousetrap II.
A random flick through the Notebooks illustrates some of these points. A page of jottings—a short list of books (all published in 1970), arrangements for Christmas shopping and a quotation that caught her attention—interrupts the notes for Nemesis:
At some place in (Ireland?) (Scotland?) (Cornwall?) a family lives—writes her to stay for a day or two or weekend—rejoin tour later—(Has she been taken slightly ill? fever? Sickness—some drug administered)
Notes on books
Deliverance—James Dickey
The Driver’s Seat—Muriel Spark
A Start in Life—Alan Sillitoe
Let’s go to Syon Lodge Ltd. (Crowthers)—20 mins. by car from Hyde Park Corner—on way to airport—Xmas shopping? Collingwood in Conduit St
Remark made by McCauley ‘To be ruled by a busybody is more than human nature can bear’
One of the many lists of books scattered throughout the Notebooks, this one across two pages lists crime novels from the late 1930s/early 1940s, including titles by Simenon, Wentworth, Innes, Ferrars and Sayers…
…Her publishers would send Agatha books to read, and indeed the page above is headed ‘From Collins’.
What is this focal point of (an accused person imprisoned)—R’s son—a failure—R. always knew when he was lying
The plotting of One, Two, Buckle my Shoe and a listing of possible short story ideas is interrupted by a social message from her great friend Nan Gardner:
H.P. not satisfied—asks about bodies—at last—one is found
All away weekend—can we go Thursday Nan
Ideas (1940)
A. 2 friends—arty spinsters—one a crook—(other camouflage) they give evidence—possible for Miss Marple
A list of ideas, some of which became Death in the Clouds, The A.B.C. Murders and ‘Problem at Sea’, is put on hold for three pages of Christmas presents:
C. Stabbed by an arrow—Stabbed by dart (poison) from blow pipe
Jack [her brother in law]—Dog?
Mrs E—Menu holders
Aunt Min—blotter and notepaper stand
Barbara—bag and scarf
Joan—Belt?
D. Ventriloquist
E. Series of murders—P gets letter from apparent maniac—First—an old woman in Yorkshire
Three Act Tragedy is preceded by an address and phone number:
Toby, 1 Granville Place, Portman Street Mayfair 1087
P suggests Egg should tackle Mrs Dacres
Travel details appear in the middle of ‘The Capture of Cerberus’ (‘Robin’ was possibly Robin McCartney, who drew the jacket designs for Death on the Nile, Murder in Mesopotamia and Appointment with Death):
Young widow—husband missing believed killed—P sees him in ‘Hell’
Any Thursday by afternoon train Robin
Combine with idea of man who has gone under—Dead? A waiter in Hell?
As can be seen, Christie’s creativity was not exclusive—she was able to plot a murder while making a social appointment, or consider a murder weapon while compiling a reading list, or mull over a motive while transcribing travel directions. Throughout the Notebooks she is Agatha Christie, Queen of Crime while always remaining Agatha, the family member.
Motive and Opportunity
One of her most personal creations, Ariadne Oliver, is generally accepted as Christie’s own alter ego. Mrs Oliver is a middle-aged, successful and prolific writer of detective fiction and creator of a foreign detective, the Finnish Sven Hjerson. She hates literary dinners, making speeches, or collaborating with dramatists; she has written The Body in the Library and doesn’t drink or smoke. The similarities are remarkable. There can be little doubt that when Mrs Oliver speaks we are listening to Agatha Christie.
In Chapter 2 of Dead Man’s Folly Mrs Oliver shrugs off her ingenuity:
‘It’s never difficult to think of things,’ said Mrs Oliver. ‘The trouble is that you think of too many, and then it all becomes too complicated, so you have to relinquish some of them and that is rather agony.’
And again, later in Chapter 17 she says:
‘I mean, what can you say about how you write your books? What I mean is, first you’ve got to think of something, and then when you’ve thought of it you’ve got to force yourself to sit down and write it. That’s all.’