Tags
Agatha Christie, Aunt Agatha, Margery Allingham, National Socialism in Little Dorkley, The Estate of the Beckoning Lady, The Moving Finger, timid spinster, vicar's wife
My mother is downsizing, moving into an assisted-living apartment from my childhood home. This means she’s been getting rid of books in anticipation of her move. As a result, we’ve inherited her full collection of Agatha Christie paperbacks, which has provided an enjoyable introduction to Aunt Agatha (for my daughter) and a fun walk down memory lane (for me).
As I’ve amply demonstrated previously in this blog, my preference in the Christie universe lies squarely with Hercule Poirot and his little grey cells. However, I’m not
averse to reading (and re-reading) non-Poirot Christie mysteries, and one I always go back to is The Moving Finger.
The Moving Finger features Miss Jane Marple as its detective, but she doesn’t enter the story until two-thirds of the way through the book. Instead, the narrative is recounted by (and largely sustained by the musings of) Jerry Burton, a young man who with his younger sister Joanna has just moved from London to the small market town of Lymstock. Jerry, a fighter pilot, was injured in a plane crash and has been ordered to the country to recover in peace and quiet. Instead, he and Joanna find themselves in the middle of a nasty scandal involving anonymous poison-pen letters…and (of course) murder.
The novel is short – my version only has 185 pages – but doesn’t stint on plot or characters. Of course, its brevity means that many of those characters aren’t developed beyond stereotype – the timid, old-fashioned spinster; the catty and reclusive antiques enthusiast; the unworldly, Latin-quoting vicar; the bluff, hearty, Girl Guide-leading doctor’s sister.
One character that is a bit more interesting is the vicar’s wife, Mrs. Dane Calthrop. While her husband is remote and academic, she is “quite terrifyingly on the spot” and has a knack for perceiving – and pointing out – the truths of village life that no one else is willing to voice. Some call her a bit mad, but it’s just because they are ever so
slightly afraid of her. It’s Mrs. Dane Calthrop who calls in her friend Miss Marple when the situation becomes acute.
So why do I enjoy this book so much? Why do I go back to it so often, even though it doesn’t feature my beloved Poirot? How is it like that other one I always go back to, The Estate of the Beckoning Lady, by Margery Allingham?
To answer the last question first, it’s not much like the Allingham book, except that it takes place in the country, features eccentric villagers and relegates World War II (which is taking place in The Moving Finger and only a few years finished in Beckoning Lady) to a mere shadow in the background. To be honest, Allingham’s book features a more interesting plot, more finely drawn characters and stranger (and yet completely recognizable) events and happenings.
And yet, The Moving Finger is still a fine book and an always-enjoyable comfort read. The plot ticks along, the clues are subtle and challenging, and the main characters are compelling. There are a couple of nice romances along the way, and Miss Marple wraps things up satisfyingly at the end. You could do worse than to revisit this book, preferably next to the fire with a nice strong cup of tea.