Day 188: One of Fourteen

One good thing about having purchased so many books is that I feel obligated to read them. So far I have finished fourteen, among them this Poirot mystery:

Three Act Tragedy (aka Murder in Three Acts) by Agatha Christie

Grade: B

Three Act Tragedy is a Poirot mystery, but he plays only a minor role in it. However, Christie provides three amiable lead characters to gather evidence for him to use in the final act. First there is a retired actor named Sir Charles Cartwright, who is described as a “well-built, sunburned man of middle age.” Then there is Mr. Satterthwaite, “a dried-up little pipkin of a man . . . patron of art and the drama, a determined but pleasant snob, . . . a very shrewd observer of people and things.” And last, there is the young and attractive Hermione “Egg” Lytton Gore, who has set her cap for the much older Sir Charles.

When an acquaintance suddenly drops dead at Sir Charles’s dinner party, the three characters suspect murder, but the police and Hercule Poirot (who was also present) disagree. Later, one of Sir Charles’s oldest friends dies under similar circumstances, throwing new light on the first death. Sir Charles and crew begin their own investigation into the suspected murders.

Overall this was a quick and enjoyable read. Unfortunately there were some insulting Jewish stereotypes and old-fashioned views on women, both common problems in Christie’s books. I bristled when I read them, then reminded myself that they are a reflection of the times in which they were written. They still bothered me, though, as they should.

At the end there was another problem: the murderer’s motive didn’t ring true. I was curious if other readers had felt the same way, and when I investigated I found that there are actually two versions of the story: one from the 1934 American edition and another from he 1935 U.K. edition. The two versions are said to be similar except for the motive. The alternative motive, which I read about on Wikipedia, makes more sense, but it calls to mind a certain famous work of literature, and the comparison does Christie’s book no favors. I don’t know which of the two motives was written first or whether my copy was the American or British version. It really doesn’t matter, because neither motive quite satisfies, and I recommend this mystery only for die-hard Christie fans.