We are very pleased to announce the date of our second annual conference at the British Library.

The conference will be taking place on 11 June 2016 and, once again, we intend it to be an all day event.

We are putting together what we hope will be a fantastic collection of speakers and interesting topics focussing on the Golden Age of Detective Fiction. Tickets will go on sale shortly at a special discounted rate for early booking.

We will update our website continually as the details are finalised.

I am reading this in a cheap Spanish paperback edition, where it goes under the title Poirot in Egypt. In order that I do not miss too much in the translation, I am checking my understanding by reading in parallel the much more elegantly presented Folio Society edition.

One thing which has quite surprised me is that just like the lovingly illustrated Folio Society edition, my cheap Spanish paperback also features original illustrations – albeit line drawings which, therefore, do not require colour printing.

Interestingly, both editions select seven scenes from the novel to feature but only one scene is illustrated in both editions. This is when the Karnak on which the party is travelling along the Nile moors at the temple of Abu Simbel. This is such an iconic view which is, with the pyramids, a sight that absolutely captures the mysterious atmosphere of the ancient ruins of Egypt in the desert.  It is therefore no surprise that both books should choose to use it.

Except they don’t quite.

The text from the novel reads: “The steamer was moored to the bank and a few hundred yards away, the morning sun just striking it, was a great temple carved out of the face of the rock.  Four colossal figures, hewn out of the cliff, look out eternally over the Nile and face the rising sun.” And this is indeed what we see in the Folio Society edition illustration below.

But in the Spanish translated version, the second sentence is omitted.  The four figures are not mentioned. And the illustration, in consequence, drawn from the Spanish text, shows a wholly conventional free standing temple with columns such as might be seen at Luxor but not at Abu Simbel. Bizarrely, the temple at Abu Simbel does feature in the cover illustration of this version (see top image).

Indeed, one might speculate that the lower production values in the cheaper Spanish paperback meant that the illustrator was simply given a few lines from the novel and told to illustrate the caption. This may account for the layout of the Karnak in the picture which, of course, does not correspond to the deck plan included in both versions of the novel in a later chapter.

There are two other pairs of images which, although not depicting the same scenes, depict the same characters at critical moments in the plot. The Folio Society edition choses to show Jacqueline de Bellefort and Simon Doyle at the moment when he is clutching his leg after she has shot at him in a drunken rage.

The Spanish edition choses to show the two of them in the aftermath when Simon Doyle is recuperating in Dr Bessner’s cabin and Jacqueline de Bellefort in a moment of high melodrama begs for forgiveness. We also see here Hercules (note the different spelling) Poirot looking on. That moustache is certainly extra-ordinary but I think we have become so used to the tightly styled, trim, waxed moustache of David Suchet and Albert Finney that it does strike as odd when confronted for the first time.

Indeed, Poirot appears a much slimmer character in the illustrations for the Spanish edition than we are used to seeing. There is no “embonpoint” for him to rejoice in, as we can see again in this illustration of the two detectives, Poirot and Colonel Race, examining the letter “J” scrawled on the wall of Linnet Doyle’s cabin in a blatant attempt to incriminate Jacquline de Bellefort. Indeed, Colonel Race is not how many English readers would imagine him in this illustration.

The Folio Society edition seems to represent Colonel Race more in line with English expectations (as indeed is Poirot) in this later scene when the two detectives find the murder weapon bearing Jacqueline’s de Bellefort’s initials.

I think it is fair to say that the illustrations in the two editions are in keeping with the expectations of their respective markets. The Folio Society hardback has beautifully reproduced colour images in muted pastel colours which ooze nostalgia and glamour in a way that will appeal to their more affluent readers; the cheap Spanish paperback – true to its pulp fiction aesthetics – focuses on the melodrama and, dare I say it, paints an altogether more black and white picture of the world.

Indeed, to avoid spoilers I have not shown here an illustration from the Spanish edition which depicts a murder with the murderer’s face showing an expression of such demonic fury and hatred that it would be worthy of the type of gurning that was shown in old silent movies accompanied by the captions like “No one calls me that and gets away with it. You’ll pay for that insult. I’ll get even with you if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

Mark
 

  
This exhibition of rarely seen photographs has been on display at the Bankside Museum in London and will move to Torre Abbey during the Torquay Festival starting next week to commemorate the 125th Anniversary of her birth. 

The photographs span her entire life from childhood to shortly before her death and are displayed in chronological order. The timeline is marked on the wall below esch photograph and very helpfully for the fans of her books, indicates which novels coincide with the photographs. 

Also included, in its correct place in the sequence, is the 1969 portrait of Agatha by painter Oscar Kokoshka. This, in contrast to the muted tones of the photographs, is full of vivid reds and yellows. It gives the impression of a woman very much alive and bursting with ideas even at 80. 

There are many quotations, taken largely from Agatha’s posthumously published autobiography, interspersed between the photographs which often shed more light on the woman pictured than the captions which are purely factual records of the where, when, who variety. The excerpts from her letters to second husband Max are full of joy and almost surprise at having had this second chance at love. 

The photos are black and white though there is a charming short silent film – about 2 minutes long – which is drawn from home movies of the author with husband Max Mallowan, her daughter Rosalind and grandson Matthew   These include some later colour footage. The sequences include typical family messing about in the garden material revealing a fun-loving and warm home-life completely at odds with the subject matter of her novels. There are also clips of Agatha swimming on holiday and with Max on archaeological digs in the middle east, which provided her with material for several novels. 

Easy to overlook amongst the visual display were a couple of headphones through which you could listen to Agatha talking about the experience of writer’s block. Her voice is characteristically upper middle class of the period – received pronunciation so to speak. She clearly does not take herself or her work seriously and speaks deprecatingly of the agonies she goes through before each novel and the displacement activities she tries every time before the germ of the idea comes, after which all is plain sailing. She tells how husband Max never takes seriously her moans that she fears she this time the block will be permanent and she will never write another book. “You’ve said that for 80 books and I’ve no doubt you’ll say it again next year for the 81st” 

For me the home movies and the short audio clips brought Agatha to life in a way that still photographs rarely can. However there is much to be revealed of the private Agatha from these candid snaps by friends and family. 

Overall the exhibition leaves you with the impression of a fun-loving woman who enjoyed life and her family – in spite of personal tragedies along the way (the suffering of her mother before her death, her divorce from Archie Christie, and the loss of her daughter’s husband in the second world war only shortly after they were married) – far-removed from the rather severe looking elderly author so often featured in photos of her. 

Mark