Book Review: Death on the Nile

Spoilers!

In the Agatha Christie world, if you’re not murdering — even unsuccessful murder, as it were — Hercule Poirot does not have much time for you. Indeed, murder is the language of the day, and if you’re thieving, deceiving, frauding, or attempting to murder someone, Poirot is not speaking your language. I love Christie and the webs she weaves in her detective series through the aforementioned self-admitted cocksure Poirot. In her 1937, Death on the Nile, Christie is at the height of her twisting, deceptive powers.

Let’s start with the most obvious. The title itself. At first blush, you understand a murder is going to happen because the book is titled, Death on the Nile. But in fact, when Poirot and the assortment of characters gather on a boat on the Nile, more than one murder occurs — three in total — and “death on the Nile” still applies because “death” can imply more than one! I was actually surprised Christie was letting so much death occur on the boat, but it was part of the conspiracy to ensure the original conspiracy was concealed.

To backtrack, Linnet Doyle is like the Kim Kardashian of her day, a socialite who is hugely successful, business smart, attractive, and someone multiple suitors are pursuing. As it turns out, she marries the man who her best friend, Jacqueline, was smitten with: Simon Doyle. Red flag, red flag! On their honeymoon in Egypt, we find out that Linnet and Simon have been accosted by Jackie, who is following them from location to location. For what it’s worth, their honeymoon location is naturally printed in their newspapers, so, others decide to go on a trip down the Nile, including Andrew Pennington, Linnet’s American trustee; romance novelist Mrs. Otterbourne and her daughter, Rosalie; Tim Allerton and his mother, Mrs. Allerton; socialite Marie Van Schuyler, her cousin, Cornelia, and Nurse Bowers; outspoken and violent communist Mr. Ferguson, Italian archaeologist Richetti; solicitor Jim Fanthorp; and naturally, become every Christie novel needs a capable and noble doctor, Dr. Bessner. Along the way, Colonel Race, who is a friend of Poirot’s on other cases, joins the boat in pursuit of a murderer. The murderer is Richetti, who has nothing to do with the events that unfold along the Nile.

A few of these passengers have motive, seemingly, to kill Linnet: Jaqueline is the most obvious since Linnet “stole her man”; Mr. Ferguson, as a violent communist who unabashedly endorses the idea of killing Linnet; and Pinnington, who stands to gain a lot of money if Linnet is dead and the business tractions transition to Simon, who is depicted as a dolt on business matters.

Long before they’re on the boat, Poirot overhears Simon and Jacqueline having a sneaky conversation. At that point, and then compounded by Linnet “stealing” Simon, I suspected that Simon and Jacqueline were in cahoots to kill Linnet, partly out of revenge, but primarily because she was worth millions. In that sense, this is the first time I’ve read a Christie novel where she didn’t fool me! That said, the intricacies and the details are so masterfully orchestrated, as always, by Christie, that I obviously couldn’t foresee the details that made up this murderous tapestry.

Essentially, there were jewel thieves aboard, like Tim Allerton, but he wasn’t a killer. Or fraudsters, like Pennington, but he also wasn’t a killer. Nor was Rosalie, who was only trying to hide the fact of her mother’s alcoholism. Instead, Christie tried to throw us off of Simon and Jacqueline’s trail because right before Linnet’s murder, Jacqueline seemingly shoots Simon in the leg. Simon is incapacitated physically, and Jacqueline is incapacitated mentally after her hysterics. Thus, neither could have killed Linnet after, right? Wrong! Cleverly, Jacqueline didn’t actually shoot Simon, so during the hullabaloo, he killed Linnet, then shot himself in the leg. Thereafter, it was Jacqueline who killed Linnet’s maid and then killed Mrs. Otterbourne to cover up their conspiracy.

But of course, our cunning detective, Poirot, figures Simon and Jacqueline’s conspiracy out. What I love about Christie’s novels is she doesn’t take herself too seriously. Not only does she poke fun at the absurdities inherent to detective novels like hers, but she even acknowledges that Hercule Poirot, as a character, has “become an institution.” I enjoyed her tongue-in-cheek awareness.

Death on the Nile is right up there with Christie’s best work, at least as far as I’ve read her books goes, for being clever, fun, and an immersive whodunnit.