Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to discuss Postern of Fate (1973), the final novel written by Agatha Christie, and will be doing so in full, spoiler-rich detail. Read no further unless you’re willing to be spoiled on this, probably the most-disregarded book in Dame Agatha’s oeuvre.
If you’re going to discuss Agatha Christie, and with this being something of a bittersweet farewell to Christie and worth putting in the wider context of her career and life, you go to the blogosphere’s resident Christie expert, Bradley Aloysius Friedman. Having lived with Christie’s books for longer than Christie herself lived with Tommy and Tuppence Beresford, Brad’s the perfect choice to steer us through this…and so, with a quick reminder of the plot:
A poisoning many years ago may not have been accidental after all…
Tommy and Tuppence Beresford have just become the proud owners of an old house in an English village. Along with the property, they have inherited some worthless bric-a-brac, including a collection of antique books. While rustling through a copy of The Black Arrow, Tuppence comes upon a series of apparently random underlinings.
However, when she writes down the letters, they spell out a very disturbing message:
M a r y – J o r d a n – d i d – n o t – d i e – n a t u r a l l y…
And sixty years after their first murder, Mary Jordan’s enemies are still ready to kill…
…let’s get into it.
Jim: Rather famously, this was the final book Christie wrote, but is there any evidence that she knew it was going to be her last hurrah? Curtain (1975) and Sleeping Murder (1976) were waiting in the wings, but did she decided that Postern of Fate would be the final one, or did it just work out like that?
Brad: It depends on what we surmise about her mental health at the time — and we can only guess since the family has been so protective of her history. I want to remain as positive as is possible in discussing this final novel, so let me say this about Tommy and Tuppence. I feel a great deal of love for them — always have, even if their adventures gave me less joy on re-reading. They amounted to an experiment for Christie: the novels and tales encompassing a larger story in (relatively) real time of a couple of young adventurers who saved the world time and again, solved a few mysteries and, most importantly, fell in love and grew old together. None of these books are particularly cleverly clued or surprising, but that’s not really the point of Tommy and Tuppence. What’s interesting to me is that we get to see them age and we get to see them react/respond to real world events. In contrast, Poirot and Miss Marple seem unaware of the wars around them (well, Poirot was involved in WWI), and yet we do get — especially from Miss Marple — commentary which we can only suppose is authorial about the changes in the social milieu around them. It’s like T&T give Christie a chance to be biographical (to a degree), while Marple is the medium for Christie’s social commentary.
Jim: Nicely put.
Brad: We know Christie had written Poirot’s final adventure during WWII, and while I know you haven’t read Curtain yet, you must be aware that Christie alters Poirot’s physical abilities quite drastically. It appears that scholars are arguing to this day about the exact time Miss Marple’s final adventure, Sleeping Murder, was written, but it doesn’t matter: that novel in no way feels like a final book! You have to look to Nemesis (1971) to get that sense of completion. Nemesis suggests to me that Christie was thinking towards her own end. But it’s — well, it’s weird that she knew where she was taking her sleuths to at the end, but she did nothing in her earlier books to prepare the reader for that. And yet that is exactly what she did do with Tommy and Tuppence.
Look at how she spaced apart the Beresfords: young friends in 1922, young marrieds in 1929, on the cusp of middle age in 1941, (we have to fudge here in the temporal vortex because their kids, who couldn’t be more than 10 and 11, are now doing important war work). We don’t meet up with them again for twenty-seven years, and it feels like they’ve lived every one of those years. Five years after that, we get Postern of Fate, and I can’t help thinking that Christie must have felt that she was saying goodbye to “the old dears” by giving them a case that harkened back to their first WWI spy adventure.
Jim: I’ve always thought of Postern of Fate as The First and Last Goodbye: first because it was the Goodbye Novel the reading public encountered first, and last because, well, it was the final one she wrote. There was obviously something about how T&T related to Christie’s own ageing — and you can find references throughout the books, I maintain — that she wanted to reflect on, a final hurrah for characters she obviously invested with a certain personal meaning. After all, we didn’t get a Goodbye to Superintendent Battle or a Goodbye to Johnnie Race (unless, of course, they crop up in Curtain or Sleeping Murder and ruin my thesis…).
Brad: They do not.
Jim: The way Christie leaves Miss Marple in Nemesis really feels like she, Christie, knows she’s not coming back to that character, and the final scene with Poirot and Mrs. Oliver in Elephants Can Remember (1972) has a deliberately maudlin feel to it, ending on something of a bittersweet note. Here, the Beresfords are left congratulating their dog on becoming a Count of the Realm…now, I love Hannibal as a character, but I wonder whether Christie knew she wasn’t coming back and wanted it to be an inconsequential ending of upbeat proportions, or whether she just wanted the thing to end and didn’t really care how. The contrast with those others is stark, to say the least.
Brad: If I understand it correctly, Max and the beloved secretary never wanted this to be published, but what control did they have over a publishing house that wanted its filthy lucre by publishing anything as a “Christie for Christmas”? One has to wonder why some editor didn’t get on this — not to create a clearer sense of Things Ending, but to create a clearer ending period! And while they were at it, maybe a clearer, cleaner beginning and middle. Is there a point where an author is editor-proof? (Make note to ask that about Elizabeth George’s doorstop novels . . . )
Jim: The key difficulty would be that past the discovery of the message, the true allegiance of Mary Jordan, and the murder of poor Isaac Bodlicott there’s really not much of a plot. Why go to the effort of trying to make it into something it wasn’t, when it would probably sell just as many copies as is? Sad, but true — though I for one am pleased nothing was done (as far as we know…) to tidy it up. The joins would surely have been far too obvious, and it would have felt like bad mimesis.
Brad: These are all good questions. Wasn’t Dorothy Sayers’ final sojourn into the Land of Wimsey much more, er, whimsical than mysterious (Busman’s Honeymoon)?
Plot-wise it is something of a mess, but there’s a sort of beguiling element to it for me. Tommy and Tuppence aren’t at the stage where they’re looking for mysteries, and by happening across the message about Mary Jordan’s death they’re not just going to jump feet first into a possibly fruitless investigation.
“Look here, Tuppence,” said Tommy, “you’re not going to get a thing about this, are you?”
“What do you mean, a thing, about this?”
“Well, I mean working up a sort of mystery.”
“Well, it’s a mystery to me…Oh, Tommy, you must say that it is very intriguing.”
I know it doesn’t make for gripping reading, but there’s a gentleness to their gradual involvement that feels very much like a couple of old dears who aren’t really sure what they’re doing…and I found it charming.
There’s no doubt that it’s a pleasure to see them again. When I first read this, I was something of an “old soul” even though I was only starting university, and I could appreciate the sentiment of what we were getting here. And, dithery as they get throughout the book, there were some great little exchanges:
“You don’t appreciate a faithful husband when you’ve got one,” said Tommy.
“All my friends tell me you never know with husbands,” said Tuppence.
“You have the wrong kind of friends,” said Tommy.
It’s always better when they talk things out because their inner thoughts tend to spiral down a dark hole like the final shot in the shower scene in Psycho (1960). But you know something? T&T’s conversations were always a high point of their books, from the very first “Tommy, old thing!”/“Tuppence, old bean!” exchange. In this instance, I believe that Christie was channeling back to all the houses she had obsessed over through her life. She had a really hard time packing up her childhood home Ashfield after her mother died, and remodelling Greenaway, her dream house, was also a challenge. She pours her memories of messy rooms in one and bad electricians in another into this. The idea of mixing up the two houses is a great metaphor for the state of confusion in which we often find ourselves while reading.
It’s thoroughly unintended, but I also like how apt the end of the epigram is:
Have you heard
That silence where the birds are dead, yet something pipeth like a bird?
If the ‘birds’ here are Christie’s own powers of plot and inspiration, they’re unarguably dead with regards the content of the novel, but the likes of Mary Jordan being unveiled as “one of our lot” has about it the piping of Christie’s earlier, better efforts.
Nobody was inspired by the saying “Old sins cast long shadows” like Christie, and I think her loving fans, raised on Five Little Pigs (1943), the ultimate murder in retrospect, and the much loved but weird Nemesis, as well as those great titles where past crimes inspire present ones, like Murder on the Orient Express (1934), And Then There Were None (1939), and Mrs. McGinty’s Dead (1952) got excited when she went in that direction — even if the results turned out to be like Elephants Can Remember.
I retained a faint hope that Mr. Crispin would turn out to be dodgy come the end…not that I’m sure what difference that would have made. To be honest, beyond the notion of “a sexy letter that you could blackmail someone about, about sixty years ago” which this more or less turns out to be, I don’t think really anything of the plot will be with me in a fortnight.
It does make you wonder if we would all have been perfectly happy with one less Christie. Does By the Pricking of My Thumbs (1968) serve as an adequate ending? My guess is – it does. And yet you weren’t around when she was alive, and the excitement for me every December was akin to the Harry Potter craze. No midnight parties at Waterstones, I’ll bet, but I imagine the stores were well-stocked come Christmastime, and my Aunt Rosalie never disappointed!
For all the — not unfairly made — assumptions about Christie’s failing mental state when writing this, there are still some great turns of phrase:
Mr. Bodlicott was not one to shirk giving himself the pleasure of retailing some really good story of past days. These flights of fancy, claimed usually as flights of memory, were usually ushered in with the same type of statement.
Or Tommy visiting Colonel Pikeaway, who “lives in a kind of permanent atmosphere of smoke”, and trying in vain to open a window to alleviate the haze:
[O]bviously it was his not to reason why, his but to inhale and in due course die.
It goes to show, there’s always something worth your time in a Christie novel, even right here at the end, even if you do need to wander down a lot of gently-curving, diverging paths to find it.
Christie had her own way of beginning a book. It wasn’t melodramatic like Ellery Queen and John Dickson Carr, or formulaic (but delightful) like Christianna Brand. Christie always had the right blend of daily middle-class life and inciting incident, weaving the important stuff right into the trivial. Think of the folks at breakfast in A Murder Is Announced (1950) or Mrs. McGillicuddy thinking of Christmas on the train in 4:50 from Paddington (1957). In the 70’s, however, Christie lost that balance, and her characters start each novel pretty woolly-headed. Miss Marple seems to spend forever in that garden at the top of Nemesis, reading the paper and trying to remember things. I mean, it’s been only six years since she last met Mr. Rafiel, and it was quite a contretemps — surely she wouldn’t have so much trouble remembering him!
Nemesis is a good counter-point to this one, since there’s that extended section where it seems that the plot will focus on the people on the tour…and then it doesn’t. Here, so much effort is put into the domesticity of Beatrice’s concerns over buying the coat at the wrong price, or of all the Parkinsons who have lived in the village over the years, that I felt sure some of it would come back and be relevant (it had about it the old “scanning over the stories in a newspaper” trope…). And then you realise that, no, she’s just very happy having a happy time with people she likes.
Part of the advantage of this is that you’re left in a certain suspense not knowing which events — the window breaking, the wheels coming off the horse-and-cart she rides down the hill — are deliberate action against Tuppence and her snooping, and which are simply old things falling apart. The disadvantage is that, frankly, I’m not entirely sure Christie herself could have told you.
One of the least attractive tropes of hers was the idea that evil lives on and pretty much stays the same, only with a new but pleasing shape. Nearly all her thrillers touched on this idea. The Siegfried motif in They Came to Baghdad (1951) comes back in Passenger to Frankfurt (1970). I found it well nigh unbelievable that some sinister old conspiracy from the turn of the century was still going strong or that they gave a damn about what a 75+ year-old dotty lady would find in a book. But Christie had a very conservative outlook about pacifism and the evil that men (and women) could do in the name of Peace Forever.
I always think back to the number of times Robert Ludlum — bear with me — would have villains who were essentially a Fourth Reich, as if there’s really no need to go to the effort of coming up with a tangible and original bad guys, since it’s just as easy to write “…and it’s Nazis”. When the villain’s intentions are as vague as they tend to be in They Came to Baghdad or Passenger to Frankfurt, I feel that a nebulously-realised antagonist is the best kind — no need to waste time getting into subtleties, disappear some scientists and get on with things. Same here: since there’s no real scheme, there’s no real villain.
That’s why one of my favorite Ludlums is The Osterman Weekend (1972), which a lot of fans despise. I love how it turns out to be something quite different.
29 thoughts on “#588: Spoiler Warning 12 – Postern of Fate (1973) by Agatha Christie”
Gentle, grandmotherly, and slightly gaga.
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Well, sure, we all feel that way about Brad. But what did you think of the book?
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Oh, the book…. Impossible to love, difficult to hate. It’s Christie’s worst book; the plot is confused, or barely exists – but it’s not hateful. (The murderer, for instance, isn’t an offensive stereotype, as in some of her contemporaries’ books written in their prime; and it’s more readable than late H.C. Bailey.) But Christie, even at her worst, is pleasant company – even if in this case it’s like visiting a dearly loved relative in a nursing home for the terminally bewildered.
Yeah, it’s a tough one to call — but waling on it doesn’t really serve any purpose, especially when, as you say, the context of it is so crucial.
I’m glad I read it, and I’m equally glad I had Brad on the other end of things making me think about it. Would be too easy to dismiss it otherwise but in talking it through I feel like I’ve been able to make peace with its flaws.
Accidentally typed that. There is very little to be said about this one. I read it a long time ago and I only recall how much rambling it contained. When you and Brad didn’t post the review in October, I thought you both had given up. Congrats on finishing it!
I read it recently and only recall how much rambling it contained 🙂
It’s true, there’s only really two approaches to take — you either kick it hard, or you try to be appreciative of it in context — but I’m glad I read it. Being me, I’d always have that scratch at the back of my head wondering…
Don’t be so Lestradean! From his perspective he wrote “Zr” in his blood on the floor, but from our perspective is says JZ — cleaerly a reference to the New York subway line between Broad Street and Jamaica Centre. And since the Z is backwards, it means you should take the service widdershins to Broad Street…where we’ll find his killer!
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“One has to wonder why some editor didn’t get on this — not to create a clearer sense of Things Ending, but to create a clearer ending period!”
Someone has to correct me if I’m wrong here, but I remember reading somewhere Postern of Fate was originally titled Doom’s Caravan and was heavily edited before being published. This is supposed to be the reason why the plot is such a mess.
Huge if true. Anyone…?
Not heard that before TC. According to Mike Ripley, she blocked her editor from making changes. In all seriousness, do we really think they wanted to publish such poor book? It is quite clear from the evidence of her previous two books that the editors were not at fault. This is more likely fan worship getting in the way, I suspect.
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I am a most loyal fan who does not worship this book at all, but I take your point, Sergio. And I can only imagine an alternate reality where this book is not published because it sucks, and then for years we hear the rumors of an unpublished Agatha Christie Novel, and fans clamor and clamber for it to no avail. And in a third alternate universe, they are clamoring is heard, and the novel is published. And then we feel the painJust as much, if not more, because our long-held hopes are dashed by the postern of fate!
Yeah, I’m a big fan of the “at least I’ve read it so I know how I feel about it” school. The old “apocryphal final novel from an author you desperately want to have written more” is almost a GAD fanatic’s trope of its own now — there are more from Brand, I believe, and Talbot’s The Case of the Half Witness, and some Boucher, and probably more Sayers notes on plots, etc, etc. And, man, the not knowing is exhausting!
I found the reference! Curt Evans posted in the comment section of a 2015 blog-post the following comment:
“I’ve read Postern of fate and can’t say I enjoyed it either time, Lucy, bit you have made a case for it as a nostalgia trip and I may try it again someday. Kevin Killian says it was supposed to be called Doom’s Caravan originally and that it was actually much altered in editing. It would be interesting to get some idea what the full version might have been like.”
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He was quoting Kevin Killan on that, do have no sense of this but it does explain one thing – elsewhere, and more recently, Curtis pretty much said the opposite, that Christie wouldn’t let her dictation be amended. But Curtis can speak for himself. Anyone have John Curran’s number? 😀
On a purely technical Level, it’s Christie’s worst book by far.
But I can’t bring myself to hate it, because it’s really a kind farewell from Christie. It’s not even my least favourite Christie. I have a dislike for Passenger to Frankfurt that is far bigger my Problems with Postern of Fate.
Oh, yeah, PtF is a far worse experience — though maybe that’s in part because there’s no nostalgia associated with those characters. The Beresfords aren’t to everyone’s taste, I know, but this does at least feel like Christie wanting to enjoy one last experience in their company where, as we say above, PtF just feels like the stirring of the unformed prejudices of a generation rather than a novel in its own right.
What a great conversation guys – well done. No idea how you got Ludlum’s first book in there, but bravo 🙂 I think to say that By the Pricking of My Thumbs (1968 is a better place to end is a good one – I still think that is is a fine, massively underrated book. In terms of why this was published at all or at least in this form, according to Mikle Ripley who used to have the same editor as her (see my post on this book way back when), his understanding is that Christie basically wouldn’t allow the manuscript derived from her dictated tapes to be edited. Not hard to imagine a person in the 80s suffering from dementia probably being a tad on the stubborn side, especially after 50 years of writing books and short stories that were, for the most part, terrific (and I say that as far from being her greatest fan). Again, well done guys – this is not a book you can really enjoy but it is fascinating to talk about and you guys do such a great job here. But I’m not reading it again, all the same.
Ah, so this is the counter-point to TomCat’s Doom’s Caravan speculation. What was Doom’s Caravan, then? Possibly just a working title, I guess.
Thanks for the kinds words, Sergio. Always helps with appearing intelligent when you’ve got Brad talking about the love of his life. Hopefully the Christie experiences that remain will show her off in a better light.
They will – if you don’t get your hopes up too much about the Marple. It’s perfectly fine but nowhere near her best, and it doesn’t seek to accomplish anything like the Poirot does. Curtain is not my favorite, but it accomplishes sooooo much! We’ll talk about it when you have read it.
A very perceptive and fair review. I appreciate the way you are always willing to dig a little deeper on these later Christies, as they do have something to offer. Postern of Fate was one of my absolute favorite books as a kid, so I will always have an affection for it even if it doesn’t really hold up to my memories. While the plot leaves a lot to be desired, there are still some individual moments that work well in terms of the characters and village setting, and of course knowing that this is our last visit with Tommy and Tuppence adds a great deal to the book. It’s a nice showcase for them, if nothing else.
I have a theory I’ve been trying to work out how to put into words sufficiently to make a post out of it — and I’ll attempt to explain it a bit here (no doubt badly, thus convincing myself that it wouldn’t make a good post…):
When one starts off writing, let’s say, detective fiction, there’s so much focus on the crime and the clues and the suspects, nothing else really gets a look in. Once an author has sufficient experience, the clewing becomes easier, almost second nature, and possibly a little boring — this, I feel, explains why someone like Erle Stanley Gardner would write about four books at once, because his mind cold just spin out in so many directions from one key idea. To keep it interesting over a looooong career, an author must for themselves work in something a little more diverse and arresting — see Carr’s switch to Historicals from the 1950s, or Christie;s increasingly calling on Aunt Jane as she herself became an older, more infirm, generally disregarded old woman much as she’d created in the flush of her 1930s youth.
Underpinning that, though, I’m convinced that an author who has done good work knows when something they write later in their career isn’t as good as their earlier, more heralded novels, and there’s almost a feeling of needing to work in more of this wider milieu as compensation. Look at Crooked House, which Christie herself proclaimed among her favourites: virtually no plot as such, but it’s a glorious depiction of a set of characters in the trappings of a murder mystery.
I’m putting this badly (see? I told you…!) but I do feel that one must look at more than just the plot as an author progresses. Christie did this for so long, and to such success, that I refuse to believe she’s write something entirely without merit — even Passenger to Frankfurt is fascinating for how wrong it seems to have the world, and Destination Unknown is, really, just a brief, wisp-like thriller as camouflage for a pretty nifty and savage murder mystery at the very, very end. Maybe she didn’t always know where her strengths lay, but as readers we owe it to her efforts to find them where we can.
Er, I’ve wandered off topic a bit, sorry.
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Tuppence seems very frail in this book, almost as if she had aged more than Tommy. Tommy appears very concerned about her, and some of her conversation can only be described as rambling. It seems Tommy allows her to investigate to keep her happy and occupied, and then the whole thing spirals out of control because the villians are still present. Almost as if Tommy thought it would be a harmless puzzle, and it then grew teeth.
I always thought that Agatha Christie was making the point let sleeping dogs lie.
I dunno if I’d agree about the “let sleeping dogs lie” interpretation of this: a lot of Christie’s late work is concerned with undiscovered crimes — Elephants Can Remember, Nemesis, Sleeping Murder, Curtain come to mind — and she was rather keen on criminals being identified and the facts of a crime being known. The idea of a crime going undiscovered and of someone getting away with it unacknowledged would, I’d have said, be anathema to Christie.
January 2021. This has been on my back burner for about 2 years, but I am beginning a screenplay (TV screen?) on this book. Yes it is not a strong mystery and there are a number of plot points that don’t gel–but from the moment I heard Hugh Fraser read the audiobook I had visions of a film. This is one of those terrific “in the past” novels that Agatha was so good at, and I feel if she had written it 25+ years before she would have had a great story.
The good part is that one can add in all the background story of Mary Jordan, Alexander, a younger version of Issiac, and you have that wonderful 1912-age dinner party at The Laurels when intrigue, poisoned salads, coffee/cocktails are served.
T&T are at it again.
And the parallel story along side “what happened to Mary Jordan” is can T&T in their advanced years still be at the top of their game? It is a tale just as much about them as it is in discovering the significance of the hidden documents and who killed Mary Jordan.
Wish me luck !
This sounds wonderful — if ever there was a Christie which a new perspective is almost certain to improve, this is the one. More power to you!