Come, Tell Me How You
Live is so little known among the works of Agatha Christie that it
sometimes is omitted from her bibliography. The book, subtitled “An
Archaelogical Memoir,” was written under her married name, Agatha Christie
Mallowan, and published in 1946.
Agatha (nee Miller) Christie married Max Mallowan in 1930,
having divorced her first husband, Archibald Christie, in 1928 after fourteen
years of marriage. Mallowan was an established archeologist; however, his
wife’s fame—though she would not be Dame Agatha until 1971, after her husband
had been knighted in 1968—had already eclipsed his. By the time of their
marriage, Christie had already published several novels, her first in 1920
being The Mysterious Affair at Styles.
This mystery novel featured the first appearance of Hercule Poirot, her longest
running detective. Styles, incidentally, was the name of the Christies’ house
in Sunningdale, Berkshire.
Eventually, Agatha Christie would become the best-selling
novelist of all time, her books selling approximately four billion copies in
more than one hundred languages. Her play, The
Mousetrap, famously, has been in constant production since its premier in
1952. She has been outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare.
Come, Tell Me How You
Live makes a delightful departure—as it must have been for Christie
herself. It is a rambling, day-to-day memoir that recounts several seasons of
archeological digs in the Middle East during the 1930s, prior to the Second
World War. Reading it gives one some insight not only into the goings on of a
dig in that period but into the character of Christie that in various ways
becomes manifest in the array of personalities in her novels. This is a very
human, interesting and interested individual, who pays attention to both the
vast and the minute. And she’s funny! This memoir is truly entertaining to the
point of chuckling aloud from time to time. So many memoirs take themselves far
too seriously, and this one doesn’t fall into that trap.
Christie’s prewar Middle East digs provided fodder for
several of her popular mysteries, including Murder
in Mesopotamia (1936) and Death on
the Nile (1937). When the war began, the digs ended and Christie set aside
the memoir. In 1944 she took it up again, saying,
But now, after four years of war, I have found my thoughts turning more and more to those days spent in Syria, and at last I have felt impelled to get out my notes and rough diaries and complete what I had begun and laid aside. For it seems to me that it is good to remember that there were such days and such places, and that at this very minute my little hill of marigolds is in their bloom, and old men with white beards trudging behind their donkeys may not even know there is a war.
Readers today are the richer for Christie having taken up the
memoir she laid aside before the war. And we can see, through her keen eyes,
into a world that has, unfortunately, been largely lost forever.
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