Poirot's Mythology Lesson: The Labors of Hercules 2.0

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"In the period before his final retirement he would accept twelve cases, no more, no less. And those twelve cases should be selected with special reference to the twelve labors of ancient Hercules. Yes, that would not only be amusing, it would be artistic, it would be spiritual." 

-The Labors of Hercules, p. 14

The Sum of It: 

Poirot is going through one of those phases where he's being kind of dramatic about retiring. In that he's like should I retire? Should I not retire? Should I work on my vegetable marrow cultivation? (The whole vegetable marrow obsession of Poirot's is one of my favorite things in all of Christie's writing.) He's having a little night in with a rando pal named Dr. Burton and they're discussing retirement among other things and Dr. Burton randomly pivots to ask the history behind Poirot's first name: Hercule. Dr. Burton is wondering if it's like a family name? Were his parents really into reading The Classics? Poirot is like uh IDK, also IDK about The Classics, NEVER READ THEM. The next day Poirot is feeling lame for not having read The Classics, particularly those tales about his namesake, Hercules, and, after learning a bit about said Greek hero, decides he will give himself a little challenge: before he retires he will accept only twelve more cases, and each case will match up with one of the twelve labors of Hercules. 

What follows in this book is twelve short stories outlining these twelve "final" cases of Poirot (as we know, Poirot rarely follows through with his retirement ultimatums and always gets pulled into doing "one more!" so we can never take the word "final" very seriously). Besides the mythology connection theme, there isn't necessarily an overarching mystery thread going between them all, but this is kind of a welcome change to Poirot's usual stories, and we get to see a lot of different cases involving kidnapped dogs, missing school girls, disgraced prime ministers, blackmailed hotel guests, and even Poirot's old girlfriend, Countess Vera Rossakoff! 

The YOA Treatment:

As you probably heard time and time again during our initial Year of Agatha, Emily and I were not huge fans of Agatha's short story collections. Nothing against short stories in general, we just prefer a longer, more in-depth mystery in novel form. However, reading The Labors of Hercules might have converted me to a short story liker, if not a full blown short story lover. I was not very familiar with these particular cases (since Emily read them for our first Year of Agatha, and I can't remember if I had ever read this book as a kid!) so it was fun to experience some puzzles that were unfamiliar. The concept seems a bit gimmicky, but Agatha does a good job of presenting plausible cases that tie into Hercules's labors and with a bit of a lighter tone than some of her other short stories. It was also interesting to see her, as she has done with other short stories, test out some ideas that make it into her later novels. The most obvious example from this collection is the similarities between The Girdle of Hippolyta and Cat Among the Pigeons. I was a little sad to not see Hastings by Poirot's side in this set, but Japp and Poirot's ever-faithful valet, George, make several appearances. 

Overall, I heartily recommend The Labors of Hercules as a fun, easy Poirot that can be read in multiple sittings or, honestly, just one dedicated afternoon. And if you're usually averse to short stories, I dare you to give this one a chance and see if it doesn't make you a convert as well.

-A.

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The Nun Motif: After the Funeral | 1953

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"It shows you, Madame, the dangers of conversations. It is a profound belief of mine that if you can induce a person to talk to you for long enough, on any subject whatever! sooner or later they will give themselves away." -Hercule Poirot, After the Funeral, p. 283

The Sum of It:
We are back to good old fashioned big family murder this week with After the Funeral (also called Funerals are Fatal). The story begins with the rather sudden, yet not entirely unexpected, death of older gentleman, Richard Abernethie. His remaining family members (sisters-in-law, nieces, nephews, and one younger sister) attend his funeral without much pomp and circumstance. However, the drama turns up a notch when eccentric Cora Abernethie Lansquenet blurts out her observations of her brother's death: "But he was murdered, wasn't he?"

The family is rather taken aback, assuming Richard's death in his sleep was perfectly natural, and rush to chalk up her remarks to Cora Be Cray. However, Cora's words linger with each Abernethie as they leave the family gathering...especially when Cora turns up #MURDERED the next day! (and #murdered with a hatchet no less...it's pretty gruesome for Agatha...#yikes.) The Abernethie's lawyer, Mr. Entwhistle, is very disturbed by the turn of events, and after some light investigation of his own, he enlists the heavy-duty assistance of retired detective Hercule Poirot to get to the bottom of who is killing the Abernethies.

There is kind of a lot of comings and goings in this book. Poirot doesn't get involved until two murders in, and the book divides most of its time between Enderby, the Abernethie family home, and Cora's small cottage, which is short-term inhabited after her death by her companion, a Miss Gilchrist who spends a lot of time defending the poor artistic abilities of her late mistress and telling sad tales of her own out-of-business tea shop. Richard Abernethie's surviving family members are often visiting one another and repeatedly having vague discussions about their alibis for each murder and how lucky it is that Richard left them money. #suspicious? There's also quite a bit about nuns showing up to the point of giving one of the characters the creeps (don't worry - it ends up helping Poirot solve the crime in the end.) However, overall, I enjoyed this book immensely. It's the kind of Christie you know and love, and you can tell it's the kind of story Agatha liked to write. I've always liked the solution of this story because of its simplistic cleverness (those of you who have read it will know what I mean!)

The YOA Treatment:
After the Funeral features Poirot investigating in his usual style, yet with a few, unexpected additions. Sure, he does his usual spiel of talking to all the characters involved to size them up and see if some basic conversation will lend him any clues. Per usual, this works like a charm, and a few slips of the tongue during a Poirot chat are enough to give the murderer away. However, this story also briefly features a lesser-known Poirot comrade: one Mr. Goby. Mr. Goby shows up in chapter 12 and is described as an elderly man (as is Poirot in this story), "small and spare and shrunken," with an aversion to eye contact and in possession of a double-jointed thumb #odddetail. Like Poirot, Mr. Goby is retired, but is willing to take a few days to do some P.I. work for Poirot by giving him the skeletons in the closet of all the potentially guilty Abernethies (along with some grumpy speeches about the Government.) Mr. Goby can be found giving Poirot a hand in several other books, including The Mystery of the Blue Train, Third Girl, and Elephants Can Remember. It's always fun to see Agatha spice up Poirot's world with new associates, particularly in these later stories devoid of the usual Hastings/Miss Lemon/Japp crew.

-A.