A review of The Mysterious Affair at Styles – 221231

Challenged, apparently, by her sister to write a detective novel, Agatha Christie came up with this impressive debut, which marks the first appearance of one her remarkable amateur sleuth, Hercule Poirot, although he is a more subdued, less mannered character than his later incarnations. It is also great fun and while there are signs of immaturity, particularly in a tendency to be just a tad too clever, it stands as an ageless monument to Christie’s burgeoning talent.

It was written in 1916 but not published in the States until October 1920 and in the UK until January 1921, as Christie had received several rejections and her manuscript was only accepted by Bodley Head when she agreed to alter the penultimate chapter, the set piece reveal by Poirot, from the original setting of a courtroom to the library of the Styles library. Her experience of traditional publishers gives hope to aspiring writers.

Christie drew on a couple of aspects of her wartime experience as she put pen to paper in Dartmoor. She had worked in a dispensary at a hospital where she gained a working knowledge of drugs and poisons and had seen at first hand wounded Belgian soldiers and refugees from the German occupation of their country who had taken up temporary shelter in nearby Torquay. Poirot is one such refugee, staying with several of his compatriots in a house put at their disposal by the local do-gooder and busy-body, Emily Cavendish. Although Poirot, who had had a distinguished police career, had come down in the world, he still is careful with his appearance and his mannerisms cause some amusement amongst the locals.

Emily Cavendish lives in a country house, The Styles, with her extended and impecunious family, which includes her stepson, John Cavendish and his wife, Mary, her other stepson, Lawrence, her ward, Cynthia, and her companion, Evie Howard. A sizeable cat has been put amongst the pigeons by Emily’s recent marriage to a much younger man, Alfred Inglethorp. The rest of the family suspect the extravagantly bearded parvenu to be a gold digger, whose arrival means that he will inherit Emily’s fortune were she to die. Feelings are running high, several mutter their wish that Inglethorp was dead.

It is into this maelstrom of emotions that our narrator, Arthur Hawkins, steps, having been invited to spend some of his convalescence at Styles by John Cavendish. Emily is murdered by poisoning. That afternoon she had been arguing, with either Alfred or John, and had made a new will, although it could not be found. As Emily had eaten little at dinner and had retired early, it was unclear how the poison was administered to her. Her document case had been forced open.

Hawkins, who bumps into Poirot in the village and, naturally, not only knows of him but is in awe of his reputation as a crack detective, persuades John Cavendish to enlist the Belgian’s help. Christie has fun putting the spotlight of suspicion on several of the characters and Hawkins finds himself in an uncomfortable spot when John is arrested and stands trial and when the sainted Mary is revealed to have had a dalliance with the poison expert, Dr Bauerstein. He even proposes to Cynthia who momentarily also falls under the spotlight.

A chance remark made by Hawkins unearths a clue that enables Poirot to unravel the complicated plot to kill Emily in what became the trademark grand reveal with all suspects assembled in one room. The cleverness of the plot depends upon knowledge of certain chemical reactions and a willingness to gamble on the concept in English law of double jeopardy.

It is an enjoyable romp and while the plot occasionally creaks at the seams, Christie enjoys contrasting Poirot’s methodical approach with Inspector Japp’s misguided impetuosity. Of course, the Belgian’s little grey cells make sense of it all in the end.