Poirot Retrospective #17: Death in the Clouds

 

Poirot Retrospective #17: Death in the Clouds

I enjoyed this one much more than I thought I would! After I finished it this morning I stopped and thought about it for a couple of hours - why did I like this so much more than others, when it really doesn't do anything astoundingly different?

I think the answer is: more colorful side characters than usual; an unusually active omniscient narrator who frequently makes wry observations and tells us what everyone is thinking; and an unusually high amount of romance (!). I put this in the bottom of my "best Poirot" category - it's really not outstanding in terms of plot, but it is much better than average in terms of writing and characters.

Poirot flies back from France to England - one of his famous traits is that he gets horribly seasick, so he avoids boats when he can. On the flight, an elderly woman is murdered - and no one sees a thing, despite them all being packed like sardines (it's 1935). Moreover, the murder appears to be committed with a blowpipe and poisoned thorn (!). And to add insult to injury, the killer attempts to frame Poirot by stuffing the blowpipe below Poirot's seat (!!).

As per usual, there are red herring clues and suspects, and a lot of misdirection. I tried very hard to guess the crime here, since I got the solution in Peril at End House ... and I was mostly right! I can't say what I guessed, to avoid spoiling any of you who might read this, but I nailed the Who but not really the Why, and definitely not the How. I also think there was a plot hole here that goes unexplained, and also a rather far-fetched execution of the crime which would never have worked in real life. But hey, it's not real life, so I cut it some slack.

A quick aside: Christie depicts blowpipes as about a foot long here. It was pointed out to her later in life by a real expert that in the actual jungle, blowpipes used by natives are six feet or longer (!). Chastened, she makes a snide remark about her own mistake in a later novel.

As said above, the murder itself is not the strong point here. However, her eye for characterization is never more acute - the novel takes the time to introduce all the various passengers on the plane, and then dig into their private lives a little bit, with often humorous results and great psychological acuity. I loved the hairdresser who has to pretend to be nice to all her clients; or the upper crust country squire who has a cocaine-addicted gambler ex-showgirl wife that he despises. There are so many vivid people in this.

What's more, Poirot plays matchmaker three times, and all three couples end up together (!). Maybe he's in the wrong job.

No Hastings here, but yes Inspector Japp (who is great and very jolly), and a new French inspector Fournier, who is basically just Japp but French. This book also suffers from Cabot Cove Syndrome - seriously, of all the flights the murderer could have chosen, he picks the one with HERCULE POIROT ON IT?! Outrageous coincidence. But again, I choose to overlook it.

I found one passage early on so funny I actually highlighted it within the Kindle app:

"[Jane entered Antoine's.] The person who was usually regarded as M. Antoine himself, and whose real name was Andrew Leech and whose claims to foreign nationality consisted of having had a Jewish mother, greeted her with an ominous frown."

Ha! The book is filled with little snarky asides like this, and they are always amusing. Anyway, I enjoyed this a lot.