years, her fertile brain teemed with ideas and it was a case of getting them on to paper as fast as possible. Clarity of presentation was a secondary consideration.
The conversion of the Notebooks into an easily readable format, for the purposes of this book, took over six months. A detailed knowledge of all of Dame Agatha’s output was not just an enormous help but a vital necessity. It helped to know, for instance, that a reference to ‘apomorphine’ is not a misprint, a mistake or a mis-spelling but a vital part of the plot of Sad Cypress. But it did not help in the case of notes for an unpublished title or for discarded ideas. As the weeks progressed I was surprised how used to the handwriting I became, so that converting the last batch of Notebooks was considerably quicker than the first. I also discovered that if I left a seemingly indecipherable page and returned to it a few days later, I could often make sense of it. But some words or sentences still defied me and in a number of cases I had to resort to an educated guess.
From the late 1940s onwards the handwriting steadily ‘improved’ so that by the early 1950s and, for example, After the Funeral in Notebook 53, the notes are quite legible. Agatha Christie was ruefully aware of this herself. In November 1957, in a letter about Ordeal by Innocence, she writes, ‘I am asking Mrs. Kirwan [her secretary Stella Kirwan] to type this to you knowing what my handwriting is like’, and again in August 1970 she describes her own handwriting as ‘overlarge and frankly rather illegible’. And she writes this after the improvement!
For some years, there has been a theory in the popular press that Agatha Christie suffered from dyslexia. I have no idea where this originated but even a cursory glance at the Notebooks gives the lie to this story. The only example that could be produced in evidence is her struggle with ‘Caribbean’ and ‘Carribean’ throughout the notes for A Caribbean Mystery: but I think in that she would not be alone!
… a kind of sketch of a plot …
Dotted irregularly throughout the Notebooks are brief jottings dashed down and often not developed any further at the time. This is what Christie means by ‘a sketch of a plot’; these jottings were all she needed to stimulate her considerable imagination. The ideas below are reproduced exactly as they appear on the page of the Notebooks, and some of them occur in more than one Notebook (examples of similar jottings are given later in this book). All of them were to appear, to a greater or lesser degree, in her titles. The first two are major plot devices and the remaining two are minor plot features:
Poirot asked to go down to country – finds a house and various fantastic details [see The Hollow]
Saves her life several times [see Endless Night]
Dangerous drugs stolen from car [see Hickory Dickory Dock]
Inquire enquire – both in same letter [see A Murder is Announced]
… it often stimulates me, if not to write that identical plot at least to write something else …
Throughout her career one of Christie’s greatest gifts was her ability to weave almost endless variations on seemingly basic ideas. Murderous alliances, the eternal triangle, victim-as-murderer, disguise – down the years she used and reused all these ploys to confound reader expectation. So when she writes about being stimulated to write
Identical twins (one killed in railway smash) survivor – claims to be the rich one (teeth?)
Poor little rich girl – house on hill – luxury gadgets etc. – original owner
Stamp idea – man realises fortune – puts it on old letter – a Trinidad stamp on a Fiji letter
Old lady in train variant – a girl is in with her – later is offered a job at the village – takes it
As we shall see, the ‘Stamp idea’ features in a short story and a play over 15 years apart; the ‘Old lady in train’ ploy appears in two novels almost 20 years apart; and the ‘Poor little rich girl’ inspired a short story and, 25 years later, a novel.
Finally, it is a major disappointment that there remains nothing from the creation of two of Christie’s most famous titles: The Murder of Roger Ackroyd and Murder on the Orient Express. About the latter we know absolutely nothing, as it is not mentioned even in passing. Notebook 67 does have an incomplete list of characters from The Murder of Roger Ackroyd but nothing more. There is, however, some background to its creation contained in an intriguing correspondence with Lord Mountbatten of Burma.
In a letter dated 28 March 1924 Mountbatten wrote to ‘Mrs Christie, Author of The Man who was No. 4, c/o The Sketch’ (this was a reference to the recently finished serial publication of The Big Four in that magazine). Writing in the third person, he expressed his admiration for Poirot and Christie and begged to offer an idea for a detective story. He explained that, although he had had a few stories published under a pseudonym, his career at sea did not leave a lot of time for writing.
Briefly, his idea was that Hastings, before he leaves for South America, should introduce a friend, Genny, to Poirot. When a murder occurs Poirot writes to inform Hastings and explains that Genny will write subsequent letters keeping him abreast of developments. The plot involves the drugging of the victim to appear dead; when the body is ‘discovered’, the murderer stabs him. Genny’s alibi appears impeccable as he is with Poirot until the discovery. Only in the final chapter is Genny unmasked as the killer. As can be seen, Christie retained the underlying suggestion, the narrator/murderer idea. All the surrounding detail, however, was her embroidery on his basic pattern.
On 26 November 1969 Mountbatten wrote again to congratulate Christie on The Mousetrap’s seventeenth birthday. She replied within the week and apologised in case she had not acknowledged his suggestion of 45 years earlier (he subsequently assured her that she had), thanked him for his kind words and enclosed her latest book, Hallowe’en Party (‘not as good as Roger Ackroyd but not too bad’). She also mentioned that her brother-in-law, James, had suggested a similar narrator/murderer plot to her around the same time, although she had thought then that it would be very difficult to carry off.
‘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.’
Dead Man’s Folly, Chapter 17
SOLUTIONS REVEALED
Crooked House • Endless Night • Mrs McGinty’s Dead • A Murder is Announced • Murder in Mesopotamia • One, Two, Buckle my Shoe