Nemesis
A review of Nemesis by Agatha Christie – 250624
The twelfth in Christie’s Miss Marple series, originally published in 1971, unusually see her elderly spinster sleuth very much in centre stage rather than lurking in the background unobtrusively garnering information. She is set a task from beyond the grave, a letter from the recently deceased millionaire, Jason Rafiel, whom we and she encountered in A Caribbean Mystery, offering her the opportunity to play the part of Nemesis with a bounty of £20,000 if she is successful. The problem is, though, that she is given very little information to go on but as the story unfolds she begins to garner some clues and meet people, some of whom will be helpful and others who might help her complete her mission.
Often I find it is best not to think too deeply about a Christie plot. If the task that Rafiel wants Miss Marple to complete was that important to him, surely he would have provided her with a lot more information to go on and, possibly, even briefed her before his death. It would have been far easier than the meticulous planning that was involved to ensure that all the necessary people would play ball and be in the right place at the right time as the tour group, on which he has booked her, winds its way through merry England.
The other absurdity was the two guardian angels, the Misses Cooke and Barrow, lurking in the dead of night, one outside in the corridor and the other hidden in a cupboard, to be there dei ex machina-like to protect the defenceless Miss Marple in her hour of need. It may have been the only way to get Miss Marple out of her predicament but it was a clumsy, ham-fisted device.
As the novel’s title suggests, there is a strong flavour of Greek mythology and tragedy running through the book. There are the three sisters, Clotilde, who reminds Miss Marple of Clytaemnestra, a character I considered capable of murdering anyone not just her husband, the rather odd and timid Anthea, and the sensible Lavinia, who bring to mind the Three Furies. It is a tale of powerful emotions where characters are trapped by their feelings in situations where only drastic action can resolve matters, either to effect an escape or to retain one’s hold over someone you love. That the love in question is homosexual in the broadest sense of the word, and even then rather gingerly danced around, makes it even more powerful.
As the title suggests Miss Marple’s role is to avenge a grievous wrong, which, of course, she does with aplomb. For the armchair sleuth there are some enormous clues dropped from time to time, not least of the gardening variety, and while classic Christie is all about misdirecting and pulling a rabbit out of a hat at the last minute, the identity of this culprit was fairly predictable and the tale’s interest lay primarily in how Miss Marple was able to piece the case together and formulate her conclusion.
The other drawback of the book for me was that the beneficiary of Rafiel’s meticulous planning and Marple’s sleuthing is such an unsympathetic and unlikeable character whom everyone is certain will fritter away the second chance that they have been given. The reader is left with the distinct feeling that whether she succeeds or fails, in the end Miss Marple will not make a halfpence of difference, save augmenting her bank account. She delights in putting the money in her current account because all she needs for a rainy day is an umbrella.
Miss Marple has aged considerably and her infirmities add to the sense that this particular sleuth, acute as her senses might still be, is coming to the end of the road, adding to the sense of gloom that seems to pervade the book. With the statutory three murders that a Miss Marple story demands coupled with the usual Christie page-turning style, there is much to admire, even if it is not one of her best.
