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Miss Marple's writer nephew Raymond sends her on a relaxing Caribbean vacation, and even arranges for the perfect house sitter so she won't have to worry about that:
A friend who was writing a book wanted a quiet place in the country. "He'll look after the house all right. He's very house proud. He's a queer. I mean –"
He had paused, slightly embarrassed – but surely even dear old aunt Jane must have heard of queers.
I found that oddly sweet. Stereotypical, of course, but it's nice to know that Raymond has gay friends (who are writers!). And the joke is that Miss Marple absolutely, 100% knows about the existence of gay people. Miss Marple knows about all of humanity via her village microcosm.
(I now want the parallel book in which the gay writer friend solves a mystery in St. Mary Mead while Miss Marple is away.)
Raymond thoughtfully even provided a novel for her to read:
"Do you mean that you had no sexual experience at all?" demanded the young man incredulously. "At nineteen? But you must. It's vital."
The girl hung her head unhappily, her straight greasy hair fell forward over her face.
"I know," she muttered, "I know."
He looked at her, stained old jersey, the bare feet, the dirty toenails, the smell of rancid fat… He wondered why he found her so maddeningly attractive.
Miss Marple wondered too! And really! To have sex experienced urged on you exactly as though it was an iron tonic! Poor young things…
This book was published in 1964, and I regret to say that I know exactly what sort of novels this excerpt was parodying.
But on to the mystery. Miss Marple is a bit bored at her Caribbean resort... until another guest, the elderly old bore Major Palgrave, claims to have a photograph of a murderer who got away with it, hastily shuts up and hides it when he sees other guests approaching, and is found dead the next day, the photograph gone...
Miss Marple does more active sleuthing herself in this book than in some of the others, coming up with clever lies and excuses that play on people's perceptions of her as a doddering old lady. But the book really gets fun when she joins forces with another guest, a very old, rich, sick old man, Mr. Rafiel. He's her opposite in many ways - wealthy, cosmopolitan, privileged, used to ordering people around - but they recognize each other as intellectual kindred spirits. And they both want to see justice done.
( Read more... )
Christie scale: MEDIUM amounts of RACISM. Honestly less bad than I expected given the setting.
Next up: At Bertram's Hotel, another one where Miss Marple goes on a relaxing vacation. It's one of my favorite Christies and has a very different setting and tone to A Caribbean Mystery, despite surface similarities.
A friend who was writing a book wanted a quiet place in the country. "He'll look after the house all right. He's very house proud. He's a queer. I mean –"
He had paused, slightly embarrassed – but surely even dear old aunt Jane must have heard of queers.
I found that oddly sweet. Stereotypical, of course, but it's nice to know that Raymond has gay friends (who are writers!). And the joke is that Miss Marple absolutely, 100% knows about the existence of gay people. Miss Marple knows about all of humanity via her village microcosm.
(I now want the parallel book in which the gay writer friend solves a mystery in St. Mary Mead while Miss Marple is away.)
Raymond thoughtfully even provided a novel for her to read:
"Do you mean that you had no sexual experience at all?" demanded the young man incredulously. "At nineteen? But you must. It's vital."
The girl hung her head unhappily, her straight greasy hair fell forward over her face.
"I know," she muttered, "I know."
He looked at her, stained old jersey, the bare feet, the dirty toenails, the smell of rancid fat… He wondered why he found her so maddeningly attractive.
Miss Marple wondered too! And really! To have sex experienced urged on you exactly as though it was an iron tonic! Poor young things…
This book was published in 1964, and I regret to say that I know exactly what sort of novels this excerpt was parodying.
But on to the mystery. Miss Marple is a bit bored at her Caribbean resort... until another guest, the elderly old bore Major Palgrave, claims to have a photograph of a murderer who got away with it, hastily shuts up and hides it when he sees other guests approaching, and is found dead the next day, the photograph gone...
Miss Marple does more active sleuthing herself in this book than in some of the others, coming up with clever lies and excuses that play on people's perceptions of her as a doddering old lady. But the book really gets fun when she joins forces with another guest, a very old, rich, sick old man, Mr. Rafiel. He's her opposite in many ways - wealthy, cosmopolitan, privileged, used to ordering people around - but they recognize each other as intellectual kindred spirits. And they both want to see justice done.
( Read more... )
Christie scale: MEDIUM amounts of RACISM. Honestly less bad than I expected given the setting.
Next up: At Bertram's Hotel, another one where Miss Marple goes on a relaxing vacation. It's one of my favorite Christies and has a very different setting and tone to A Caribbean Mystery, despite surface similarities.
