Hercule Poirot, the little Belgian with an egg-shaped head. The greatest detective there ever was, using only his little grey cells. According to Poirot that is.
I can’t really remember exactly when I started reading Agathe Christie novels. I only know that I enjoyed them thoroughly and fell in love with not one but two of her detectives – Miss Marple and Hercule Poirot.
I rarely re-read novels that I’ve read before. I have at times re-read some of Stephen King’s short story collections, but other than that, no. However, with Miss Marple and Hercule Poirot’s novels, I have. Read, re-read and re-re-read them again and again.
And you know, strangely enough it isn’t the actual mystery itself that enamours me. Its what I see when I read the book…the description of the era these stories were written in. Just after World War I. The large homes, the life of the country squire and his family, the life of living in a little English village called St. Mary’s Mead.
It’s the life of the maids in these homes. It’s the life of the villagers. It’s the life of the working girl in living in London. It’s the life of the “home managers”. It’s those things that seem to captivate me.
It’s a strange thing, but there you go. Not the great mysteries, but the characters’ lives that I’m interested in.
We don’t get to watch the Agatha Christie series here. However, I have watched them again..and again on YouTube. Whatever I can get my hands on.
So, to me David Suchet IS Hercule Poirot. He embodies the Hercule Poirot that fills my mind when I read the adventures of his little grey cells.
I didn’t realise that the Hercule Poirot series ran for 25 years!!!
And it ended. Hercule Poirot dies an old man 😦 I haven’t read the book. It’s called Curtain. I haven’t watched it yet either, because I can’t seem to find it on YouTube
I stumbled across this video posted on YouTube called, Being Poirot. Watching it, I had this sudden feeling of sadness come over me. David Suchet hosted the show and it starts with Poirot’s death scene.
The feeling was like saying good bye to a close friend. Someone who brought a sense of enjoyment into my reading life. It was a strange feeling.
If I had not been sitting in the clinic, I’d probably have bawled…well okay, maybe bawling is a tad melodramatic. Maybe just cry.
In this documentary, David takes us along to discover and re-visit places and people linked to Poirot. He meets with Christie’s grandson, and the composer for the well known tune that marks the start of each Poirot episode.
He goes to Belgium and to the town that is convinced to be the birth place of Poirot – they even have his birth certificate! That was a little surreal to watch. To the apartment block where Poirot lived. To discover the reason why he chose that particular building – symmetry!
It was an enjoyable albeit a sad journey.
You know, I’m so glad that Hercule Poirot still lives on. In the words that Agatha Christie wrote. In this and other adaptations of her novels.