"Agatha Christie's" novel Black Coffee: What utter bilge!

Cafe Society
1

First, let me say that I am not a book snob, not an elitist at all. Yes, most (though not all) of the books that I love are considered classics, but if there’s a John Grisham novel lying around, I will read it and consider it a pleasant way to spend a few hours. If a writer has a decent command of the English language and can tell an engaging story–well, that’s generally enough for me. I’m pretty easy to please.

Of course, I have read a few books I’d classify as just plain bad. Nothing, however, prepared me for the horror of Black Coffee, the 1997 novel by Charles Osbourne adapted from Agatha Christie’s play of the same name. I have read every Christie novel at least twice, so I admit I may not be the most objective reviewer, but that doesn’t change the fact that this particular book is useless dreck.

Why, you ask? Allow me to enumerate.

  1. Lack of new character development. Saying that all the new characters are two-dimensional would be overly kind. I didn’t care about any of them, including the dead man.

  2. Lack of existing character development. Even Christie’s standbys, Poirot and Hastings, were mere caricatures of themselves. Yes, we all know Poirot likes to exercise his “little grey cells.” Perhaps Mr. Osbourne should have tried that as well.

  3. Lack of story development. A mystery story should have some suspense, don’t you think? You know, building to a climax? Not this one.

  4. A story with Hastings in it is supposed to be narrated by Hastings. Has this man never read any of Dame Christie’s work?

  5. And finally, Poirot’s valet is Georges, not George. How hard can it be to get that right?

I feel better now.

2

I tried to read this book and put it down in disgust after around five pages. Those first few pages were so full of bad writing and cliche (including, as you said, complete caricatures of the characters) that I couldn’t even make it through one chapter. And I’m not a book snob either–I read everything from classics to trashy romance novels. Well, at least now I know I didn’t miss anything by not making it further.

3

So how much of these elements existed in the original play?

4

I’m not sure. Probably quite a few of them, which most likely was fine for a play. Even so, as a play, Black Coffee wasn’t nearly as well-received as Mousetrap.

No, available light, you didn’t miss a thing. I just can’t bring myself to start a book and not finish it. I guess I always think it might get better.

5

Thanks. Sometimes I look at that at the bookstore and think about giving it a try, but I’m suspicious that it wouldn’t come up to Christie’s writing. Now I know not to bother.

However, Poirot’s valet is called George more often than he is called Georges. IIRC, he was only called Georges in the earlier Poirot novels, and became George in the later ones, perhaps all the post-Hastings books. My theory (pulled out of my ass sixty seconds before I typed this) is that as the characters developed over the years, Christie realized that she wanted to make the valet a throughly English foil to the continental Poirot, and decided that George was a more suitable British name than Georges.

6

Hmm … I never noticed. I guess Osbourne gets a pass on that one.