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The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side: A Miss Marple Mystery
The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side: A Miss Marple Mystery
The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side: A Miss Marple Mystery
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The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side: A Miss Marple Mystery

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

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Now with a beautiful new series look, a fatal dose of poison meant for a glamorous movie star fells her ardent admirer instead—and Miss Marple is there to unmask a murderer.

One minute, silly Heather Babcock had been babbling on at her movie idol, the glamorous Marina Gregg. The next, Heather suffered a massive seizure, poisoned by a deadly cocktail.

It seems likely that the cocktail was intended for the beautiful actress. But while the police fumble to find clues, Miss Marple begins to ask her own questions, because as she knows—even the most peaceful village can hide dark secrets.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherHarperCollins
Release dateJun 15, 2004
ISBN9780061748059
Author

Agatha Christie

Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. Her books have sold more than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign languages. She died in 1976, after a prolific career spanning six decades.

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Reviews for The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side

Rating: 4.15 out of 5 stars
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  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Miss Marple is slightly alarmed by all the changes in her beloved St. Mary Mead with new Development on the edge of the village. She's also irritated with herself for some of the limitations her age has brought into her life. However, her mind remains as sharp as ever and when one of the new residents of the village dies suddenly at a fete hosted by some Hollywood people at the local large estate, Miss Marple can't help but try and determine why the murder happened.It's delightful to return to St. Mary Mead in this entry in the series, to get a sense that time has passed in Miss Marple's world, and to see a well-drawn depiction of the challenges of an aging body not quite being able to keep up with the keen mind within. As always, the mystery is well-drawn and while I picked out bits of the clues that I thought would matter, I didn't quite manage to put the mystery together before Miss Marple's final reveal. Recommended as ever.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    The Mirror Crack’d From Side to Side by Agatha Christie features Miss Jane Marple and is set in the fictional village of St. Mary Mead. While Miss Marple is mostly at home recovering from a recent illness, she nevertheless plays an important role in solving the murder of a local woman that happened during a village fete at a movie star’s home. It is quickly deducted that the poisoned drink was intended for Marina Gregg, the aforementioned movie star. And while Miss Marple is quite elderly, there is nothing wrong with her mental deductions or her knowledge of human behavior. As is so often the case, one murder is followed by more, but with Miss Marple on the case, all too soon the answers are revealed.Although The Mirror Crack’d From Side to Side was not my favorite Miss Marple, it is still a solid mystery with a large cast of characters and plenty of backstories to explore. Reading about the aging Miss Marple and her constant battle to be independent as well as the author’s comments on life in post-WW II Britain helped to enhance the book.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    The Mirror Cracked(1962) (Miss Marple #9) by Agatha Christie. Changes have occurred since our last visit to the quiet village of St. Mary Mead. A large estate has been sold to “those Hollywood people”, there is a new housing development with an influx of middle class peoples, new shops, a supermarket, there is a nearby film studio now and many other alterations to our small town.Thank goodness for Miss Marple and the nature of people, those two things stay steadfast in their natures.Actress Marina Gregg an her husband have purchased Gossington Hall (made infamous in The Body In The Library), renovated it and have now thrown it open to the public for a fete to celebrate. A woman from the development that, by accident, Miss Marple met, a Mrs. Badcock, attends the festivities and, mere moments after meeting the celebrity, falls down dead.The thought is that Ms. Gregg was the intended target so Chief Inspector Craddock (welcome back and congratulations on the promotion) is back on the case trying to suss out the truth. As in all Christie books, the truth is a most elusive thing, not to be found until a few more bodies appear, Miss Marple has some heart to heart chats with a dozen concerned citizens and the police have followed wrong leads aplenty.A good strong story and will have you wondering oil the end.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Charming. Miss Marple's very relatable struggle with change adds something poignant and very real to this otherwise simply clever mystery. Which is not to downplay the mystery. Christie is the grande dame for a reason. Here she twists a good little plot. One trait of a good mystery: even if you figure it out long before the sleuth, you don't wish it would hurry or denigrate the sleuth's abilities. I enjoyed this one to the last drop.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Pretty good. Similar to End House.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Be Aware of the DetailsThe village of St Mary Mead experienced a growth (a development): new inhabitants, new houses, new shops. A famous artist arrived and settled in. In the fete given in her new house a woman is murdered. Miss Jane Marple considered the matter. The work of the Scotland Yard and the wisdom of Miss Marple are required to solve the puzzle. As is always the case, the solution depends in careful consideration of the facts. The novel presents Jane Marple in a colorful way with the total display of her grace. Another worth reading of Agatha Christie.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This novel is set in the small village of St Mary Mead, home of the legendary Miss Marple. She is becoming quite elderly, but she and her friends take a lively interest in everything that goes on around them. Most of the story a large stately home which has been bought by a film star and her fifth husband. Within a few chapters, most of the cast gather at a large garden fete where the inevitable murder takes place. I didn’t guess the perpetrator or the motive until about a paragraph before all was revealed.Agatha Christie was very skilled at plotting, and this book is no exception. I generally feel that her characterisation is less well developed; however, in this book I was quite drawn to Miss Marple, and a few other characters too. My one gripe about this book is the unpleasant language used to describe a child born with a serious mental handicap. Some of the attitudes of the times are shocking; yet the book was published less than sixty years ago. That aside, I thought this book a great example of Agatha Christie’s work.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    While I find the way Miss Marple deals with her increased age more relevant now that my parents are in their late 80s, I still don't really like this one. Emilia Fox does a good narration (though I found her American accents didn't sound like any American I know!); too bad I couldn't find an audiobook edition narrated by Joan Hickson!
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I haves watched at least two TV or movie versions of this book. The book continues to surpass the adaptations. It is a version of murders in a country house but even though it is a classic mystery the clues are not all clearly set before the reader at one time, rather like the unveiling of Salome and her seven veils, the picture slowly comes into focus as Miss Marple peers though all the distractions and red herrings to see the solid core of the mystery.

    I liked the Joan Hickson version of the story but I always wish they would give the poor woman more than one hat. I really don't believe she would wear the same hat to garden in that she wears to church and other social events. It is a subtle way to dumb her down and give the viewer a distorted vision of Miss Marple a person who bumbles into the answers rather than using her very acute mind.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    I had to prevent myself from lying to me here. I wanted to convince me that this was a very memorable Marple mystery. I've seen the high scores given at goodreads by the reviewers. It was very nice, but not a juicy mystery. Finally, The author was, posthumously, giving me what I was clamoring for; more Marple. But the mystery-which I solved- was not vintage Christie.How bad was it? It was ordinary fare, and I'm not even proud that I solved it. It doesn't sound like a real classic. Halfway through the book, I caught myself thinking whether it was going to be one of those books that was going to fall flat on its face having deceived no one. I've been recently reading Miss Marple books chronologically, and with each passing book the author never fails to enthuse how older her heroine was now. This was the case here. There was mention of most of her old faithful servants dying. There are other signs in Mary St Mead of the passage of time.Firstly there was the building of the development area, where modern houses and offices cater to the newly arrived. The author allows Miss Marple to venture around this location but typically uses the setting to further her ends by making Marple meet the first future victim of the book, Mrs Badcock. Very unfortunate name. What is surprising is that Mr Badcock's surname is not an ancient family name, but chosen by the latter when, in the past, leaving America for England. How the hell can someone choose the name Badcock on purpose? Think of the children, people.Secondly, the transfer of ownership of Gossington Hall, which was the setting for a previous Marple story, also marks the passage of time. This once, the new owner is Marina Gregg, around whom the mystery is spun. The supporting cast of her household is not as detailed as in the classics. Everything is rushed. The mystery doesn't have enough going on. There are feeble attempts at misdirection. I picked my murderer's identity early on and never wavered until a little twist at the end. But my assumption was correct. I shouldn't have doubted myself.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    THE MIRROR CRACK'D is an interesting novel from a number of points of view. It is of course probably one of Agatha Christie's better known stories, not the least because it has been filmed at least twice.First of all, a couple of decades have passed since THE BODY IN THE LIBRARY which occurred in palatial home, Gossington Hall, of Colonel and Dolly Bantry, friends of a much younger Jane Marple. Miss Marple is now quite elderly, a bit down in the dumps, and a bit house bound.Colonel Bantry has been long dead, Dolly has been tripping around the world visiting her grown up children and grandchildren, and her former home has been sold several times. Now it has become the home of stage and TV star Marina Gregg.St. Mary Mead has changed too. The original village has expanded, and pressure for cheaper housing for the post war generation has led to new housing estates like the Development. The first few pages of the novel show Agatha Christie as a keen observer of social and economic trends as she describes how life has changed in the village. At the beginning of the novel Miss Marple escapes her minder (she now has to have a live-in carer) and takes herself for a walk at the Development. She trips and falls on the footpath and is kindly taken in for a cup of tea by Heather Badcock.And then Marina Gregg throws a meeting at Gossington Hall for locals who will be involved in the arrangements for the fete in aid of the St. John Ambulance in the grounds. Dolly Bantry is not part of the committee but has been asked to afternoon tea before the meeting, which gives her a good chance to see what changes have been made since she was the owner. Miss Marple is not one of the guests and so Dolly is our eyes and ears. The attendees are rather like a who's who of St Mary Mead.In the following chapter the fete gives all the locals including those who live in " the Development" the chance to view the opulence at Gossington Hall and so it is well attended. Marina Gregg comes face to face with Heather Badcock, whom she doesn't remember at all, until Heather supplies some details that bring the past flooding back to Marina. Once again, in Miss Marple's absence, we see things from Dolly Bantry's POV. Heather Badcock is taken ill and dies.Enter Miss Marple. Dolly goes to visit her friend the very next day but Miss Marple already has the news from her daily help Cherry.This is really a beautifully plotted novel, with threads and characters that not only link it to other Miss Marple stories, but extend right through the novel. Miss Marple does her sleuthing through the eyes of others and sits at home doing what her doctor calls "unravelling." In fact there are a further four novels in the series to come so Miss Marple is far from finished, despite her lack of mobility in this novel.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Got more involved with this one than with the other Miss Marple books so far... Possibly because of the Arthurian imagery, which is always my thing. I actually felt very sorry for the murderer, and more so for her husband. I suspected from the beginning, which pleases me -- one always loves feeling clever. The Lancelot image at the end doesn't quite work, though.

    Interesting to have an aging but capable detective. Everything is rather sedate, in consequence...
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Miss Marple is on the case when Heather Babcock is murdered at Marina Gregg's home. Was Marina the intended victim? And who or what was it Marina saw on the stairs just before Heather died? Miss Marple, with the help of old and new friends, solves the mystery. I enjoyed reading this, but its a fairly average Miss Marple, although the motive for the murder is very unusual and emotive.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    This book returns to what seems to be a theme for Agatha Christie as it features an actress as a key character. Here actress Marina Gregg has taken up residence at Gossington Hall near St Mary Mead, home of the inquisitive Miss Marple. Gregg and her husband, who is a film director, host a fête for a charitable cause and during the event a select group of people is chosen to meet the movie star. One of these visitors, Heather Badcock, dies soon after meeting Gregg and recounting the story of their previous meeting a dozen or so years earlier when Badcock rose from her sick bed to meet the star and get her autograph. When it is revealed Badcock was poisoned it is assumed that Gregg was the real intended victim and Badcock died by accident.

    Published in 1962 this is one of Christie’s later novels and does address quite well the social changes that are taking place in rural England at the time. There is a new housing development on the outskirts of St Mary Mead which is changing the place’s character and contributing to Miss Marple’s sense that she’s losing touch with things. Miss Marple is also more elderly than ever. She even has to submit to the indignity of a full-time live-in companion; a very annoying woman who treats Miss Marple like she is a stupid child. I think Christie has done a really terrific job of capturing the frustration experienced by someone who is aging but is in full command of their mental faculties even if their physical abilities aren’t what they used to be.

    However the plot here is not one of Christie’s best. The first half of the book labours several points too often, including the actress’ nervous state and the link to the book’s title (it’s a line from a Tennyson poem called the Lady of Shalott which must have been repeated at least a half-dozen times). There is one too many amazing coincidences revealed at the end. One of these is believable (in fact the book is based on something that happened to actress Gene Tierney but don’t google it unless you don’t mind spoilers) but the second is overkill (and totally unnecessary as it adds nothing to the story whatsoever). I also found the depiction of the policeman called in to investigate the crime to be quite unrealistic (although he’s very sweet to Miss Marple).

    To be honest I’ve always preferred Hercule Poirot over Miss Marple so my reaction to this book is not that surprising. While Poirot is far too clever to be real and would undoubtedly be an insufferable chap to spend any time with at least he is depicted with faults whereas Jane Marple has always struck me as impossibly perfect. And the Poirot plots are the more puzzling, clue-based ones that fit with my preference for logic whereas those featuring Miss Marple tend to be based more on what seem to me to be rather wild and random assumptions about human nature.

    Also, sadly, I did not enjoy Hickson’s narration. She seemed to swallow her words and fade away as if she was turning from the microphone and I read to rewind several times to catch what she was saying and she really didn’t seem to be paying that much attention to what she was saying. So if you are going to track down this book I wouldn’t recommend this particular audio version.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    The Mirror Crack’d From Side to Side is my first Miss Marple mystery, despite having read many Poirot, a Tommy and Tuppence, a Harley Quin and a few standalones. By this stage of the books, Miss Marple is getting on a bit in years and clearly not as able as she used to be, but still sharp in mind, as she solves the mystery, more or less, from her chair. My first impression is that she is tough as nails and insightful into people and of course, human nature. It’s this insight, more than your average person has, that helps her solve many a mystery.Miss Marple is living in changing times. In her village there has cropped up a new ‘Development’ (makes me think of the new estate in my beloved country town), mostly inhabited by young couples. Things just aren’t the same as they used to be. There’s a film star living in Gossington Hall, and this is where the trouble starts. At a fete at the hall, Heather Badcock from the Development is excitedly talking to Marina Gregg, the film star. A few minutes later she takes a sip of her drink and dies. When it becomes apparent that the drink was meant for Miss Gregg, and more people start dying, it is of course up to Miss Marple to find the murderer. As her caretaker Miss Knight hardly lets her leave the house, Miss Marple must rely on Detective-Inspector Craddock, the gossip of the village and it’s new Development and a stack of magazines to help her with this case.Dame Christie’s story building can seem quite slow, particularly if you’ve never read any of her mysteries before. But I find her writing interesting and I like the way it builds. She is giving the reader a chance to work it out for themselves and she sets the scene quite nicely. You feel like you understand what’s going on in the village, no matter how far removed it seems from our time today. The villages of the quaint English countryside are very clear in my mind and I would love to visit one day! It always surprises me how much murder goes on there though, but there is always a reason and always a Miss Marple or a Poirot to work it out. And it’s so entertaining for us readers as we struggle to work out who and why. I have always enjoyed Christie’s writing, since my first read of her mysteries, and I am yet to meet one that I don’t enjoy. 
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Very enjoyable book with real depth of character - Christie really hit the nail on the head with her portrait of actresses and her take on fame is surprisingly relevant today. I was very moved by the story especially since the mystery is coupled with Marple's slow deterioration. Christie used the same kind of phasing out for Poirot so when the end came it wasn't that surprising and I can see she's doing it here. Not only is Marple compelled to keep up-to-date with celebrity gossip she cares nothing for (though she has a good grasp of human nature) to keep up with a changing world but her health is also declining. Reaching this point makes me really sad for it's a moment when Christie mentions things which just don't exist anymore and which I'd learned to expect - throughout the novel there's a discussion about the role of the parlourmaid, the younger generation not knowing what kind of profession that is and the older mourning how useful it was to have one about. Tennyson is of course mentioned a few times, as is Marple's Victorian prudishness. I really liked this book - I find that the Marple books are a lot more about psychology than they are about puzzles (the identity of the murderer here is unsurprising). I look forward to the last few books.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    A lovely Miss Marple mystery. A kindly but utterly infuriating woman dies at the home of a glamorous movie star. Miss Marple, at home with her tea and knitting, pieces things together into a surprising solution.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    In which an attempt is made on a movie star’s life, and no one is asking the right questions.

    I’ve always liked this book, but perhaps that’s just because I have an affection for "The Lady of Shallot" – the poem from which the book’s title emanates – and that poem’s eponymous lady, Elaine of Astolat.

    Either way, "The Mirror Crack’d" is not too shabby for a ’60s Christie book, with an intriguing murder, some clever misdirection and an enjoyably broad cast of characters. As with some of the later Poirot works, Marple gathers most of her information second-hand, and there aren’t an abundance of clues to begin with (but then again, the murder doesn’t require many.)

    Christie’s later works often feature “young people” and modern society encroaching on village life, but it’s less hoary here than usual. Having the elderly Jane Marple as the detective makes Christie’s treatment of this seem in-character, and Marina Gregg and her potentially murderous entourage are well-drawn. The solution is a decent surprise and it’s possibly the only one of Christie’s works featuring an actor in which the solution does not rely on disguise (and, thus, the unlikely plan of no-one recognising the killer in said disguise). "The Mirror Crack’d" is not a classic (few Marple books are), but it’s a worthy read, and you’ll hopefully be surprised but not annoyed by the fitting solution.

    Marple ranking: 5th of 14
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Still working my way through Miss Marple when I got to this one. This one was interesting because I didn’t think the mystery was particularly good, but I loved all the time spent with Miss Marple and expanding her world. St. Mary Mead has a new housing development, and life has changed greatly.The mystery takes place at Gossington Hall where “The Body in the Library” was found. The mansion is no longer owned by Mrs. Bantry, now a widow, but she appears in this story as a main character once more. Heather Badcock is poisoned by a cocktail while attending a party thrown by the actress Marina Gregg. The glass was Marina’s – the intended target. But, who would want to kill her? Though the resolution was clever, I just didn’t care about this case as I did others. Too much time was spent telling readers how high-strung Marina is; how her mental health is frail due to being an actress; how turbulent and scandal-laden the film industry is. Meh. However, the character and world building was a welcome surprise.Miss Marple appeared in twelve novels, but this was the first to really make me feel as if it were a series, and that time had passed. There are more references to past cases, and recurring characters appear again, albeit older: her godson, Detective-Inspector Craddock, Dr. Haydock and Mrs. Bantry among them. Even the village has changed, with a new housing development and new people. Miss Marple now has a live-in helper provided by her nephew. Miss Knight irritates Miss Marple, who is struggling with failing eyesight, no longer being able to garden, and her own frailty. A spicy murder mystery to occupy her mind is literally just what the Doctor ordered!Overall, I didn’t think this was a good as other Marple mysteries, but I enjoyed it anyway.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Absolutely fantastic book. The movie made of it unfortunately, as it seems to happen too often, didn't capture Mrs. Christie's story. A must read for Agatha Christie fans.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Miss Jane Marple has a reputation for solving murders in her home town, St Mary Mead. In fact, her friends consult with her, and her nephew, who is a Detective Chief Inspector, believes she can help him to solve the latest murder in the town. But then the deaths mount like an episode of Midsomer Murders. Miss Marple is constrained by her over-officious housemate but still manages to hear the gossip going around the village. Eventually, she manages to escape the confines of her own home to visit the scene of the first death where she manages to solve the case. In my opinion, this was an entertaining read. I gave it 4 stars out of 5.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This one's interesting not just for the murder mystery itself, but because it was written in 1962 and Miss Marple is feeling the passage of time. Change has come to St Mary Mead, with the advent of the Development, a new housing estate. Change has come to the social structure, with the slow disappearance of household servants, and the appearance of supermarkets. And age is affecting Miss Marple, who is old enough to need some personal care after an illness, but is not the completely dependent and mindless old lady her home nurse insists on treating her as. Her doctor and old friend prescribes some unravelling of knitting for her. He's not just referring to her knitting, and soon Miss Marple has the opportunity to unravel a murder. Her friend Mrs Bantry sold Gossington Hall some years earlier after the death of the Colonel, and after several changes of ownership and some unfortunate attention from developers it has now been sold to a Hollywood film star, who has restored it to a private home. Marina Gregg intends to take part in village life, and this includes hosting a public fund-raising event in the grounds for charity, and inviting various village notables to a private reception to view the refurbishments. As the former owner of the house, Mrs Bantry is an honoured guest -- which puts her in a prime position to view events at the reception that in hindsight were a prelude to a murder.This was one where I spotted who and part of why pretty much at the point of the murder -- but the misdirection was so good that I wasn't sure until almost the very end, even though the rest of why had been laid out quite clearly part way through the book, if you know what to look for. It's a great read that kept me turning the pages, although it has a more melancholy feel to it than the earlier Marples. Christie has written a superb portrayal of an old woman who recognises that change isn't necessarily all bad, but nevertheless feels discomfited by it even as she does her best to embrace the good aspects. And the ultimate motivation for the murder is heartbreaking, all the more so because it appears to have been based on a real life incident.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    As well as reading "The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side" , I've also seen two or three different versions on TV (including the film with Elizabeth Taylor and Kim Novak as the warring actresses). It's a good story, and comes as a surprise when you realise whydunnit.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Audiobook performed by Emilia Fox. Miss Marple is showing her age and the doctor insists that she have a nursemaid/companion. But she’s really not so frail as people think, and she can still out-detect the most experienced Scotland Yard inspector. When a local woman is dies during a large charity event at an estate now owned by Hollywood actress Marina Gregg and her latest husband (is he # 4 or # 5?) authorities discover that the cocktail she drank was doctored. But who would want to kill Mrs Badcock? It appears this was a terrible accident, but that the lethal dose was meant for Marina Gregg. Christie really kept me guessing on this one. There are plenty of suspects, and lots of red herrings. Miss Marple is at her best in using her knowledge of human behavior and deducing the truth. I did pick up on that final clue, but was at a loss right up to that. I also really enjoyed the subplot of Miss Marple’s need for a companion. Emilia Fox did a superb job narrating the audiobook. She was able to give the many characters unique voices, although her deep, gravelly voice for some of the male characters was a little over-the-top.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side - has always been one of my favourite Marple stories because in this one the background is rather sad and the murder is fuelled by somewhat different motivations than most other Christie mysteries.

    It's even more impressive to think that the story was partly inspired by a true story Gene Tierney's biography
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    A lovely Miss Marple that has the regulation dose of old English houses, suspicious characters, old grudges and little old ladies investigating murders. This one is also a little more down than some of them, with Miss Marple's age telling on her so that her nephew employs a live-in carer for her and St. Mary's Mead enduring the changes that the construction of a new housing estate bring. Miss Marple's doctor prescibes a nice murder to cheer her up, which has luckily just happened at the village fete, and the wonderful network of friends and old servants scattered through the village come to her aid bringing gossip and information. Gentle, uplifting and perfect for a Sunday afternoon with a cup of tea.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    A classic Miss Marple. An aging Miss Marple is fretting under the care of a live in help. When an unassuming local woman is poisoned a the local fete her Dr. recommends that she takes up "unravelling" rather than knitting. Though St Mary Meade is changing - a new housing estate and a film star installed in Gossington Hall, Miss Marple finds that human nature is just the same. I recently found out that the premise behind the motive is supposedly based on something that really happened to movie star Gene Tierney - don't look it up unless you have read the book!
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I'm going back and rereading my old favourites. I own every Agatha Christie title (hard work done in used bookstores by my parents and I) and I think it will be fun to just pick one up every so often and read it. Most of the time I forget "who dun it".
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    The low rating is unfair, in a way. The mystery is quite competently written, and was made into a quite competent film. But I just feel too much sadness at the murderer's motive. (Spoiler warning). A pregnant actress loses her unborn child because a silly vain girl insists on meeting and shaking hands with her when ill and infects her. Years later, the actress finds out who was responsible for the loss of her child and kills her.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This book is later in the Miss Marple series than the other books I've read, and there are clear changes taking place in St. Mary Mead. There's a new housing development that's popped up in town, Gossington Hall, the manor on which The Body in the Library was focused, has been sold to a movie star and her (fourth or so) husband. The villagers of St. Mary Mead are invited to visit Gossington and observe its renovation. During the visit party, Heather Badcock is absolutely thrilled to meet Marina Gregg, her movie-star idol, but immediately after sipping a martini she falls over dead. It's clear that she was poisoned, but everyone agrees that Heather Badcock had no enemies - why would she have been killed?As always, this was a lot of fun. It's always enjoyable to see how the pieces come together.

Book preview

The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side - Agatha Christie

One

I

Miss Jane Marple was sitting by her window. The window looked over her garden, once a source of pride to her. That was no longer so. Nowadays she looked out of the window and winced. Active gardening had been forbidden her for some time now. No stooping, no digging, no planting—at most a little light pruning. Old Laycock who came three times a week, did his best, no doubt. But his best, such as it was (which was not much) was only the best according to his lights, and not according to those of his employer. Miss Marple knew exactly what she wanted done, and when she wanted it done, and instructed him duly. Old Laycock then displayed his particular genius which was that of enthusiastic agreement and subsequent lack of performance.

That’s right, missus. We’ll have them mecosoapies there and the Canterburys along the wall and as you say it ought to be got on with first thing next week.

Laycock’s excuses were always reasonable, and strongly resembled those of Captain George’s in Three Men in a Boat for avoiding going to sea. In the captain’s case the wind was always wrong, either blowing off shore or in shore, or coming from the unreliable west, or the even more treacherous east. Laycock’s was the weather. Too dry—too wet—waterlogged—a nip of frost in the air. Or else something of great importance had to come first (usually to do with cabbages or brussels sprouts of which he liked to grow inordinate quantities). Laycock’s own principles of gardening were simple and no employer, however knowledgeable, could wean him from them.

They consisted of a great many cups of tea, sweet and strong, as an encouragement to effort, a good deal of sweeping up of leaves in the autumn, and a certain amount of bedding out of his own favourite plants, mainly asters and salvias—to make a nice show, as he put it, in summer. He was all in favour of syringeing roses for green-fly, but was slow to get around to it, and a demand for deep trenching for sweet peas was usually countered by the remark that you ought to see his own sweet peas! A proper treat last year, and no fancy stuff done beforehand.

To be fair, he was attached to his employers, humoured their fancies in horticulture (so far as no actual hard work was involved) but vegetables he knew to be the real stuff of life; a nice Savoy, or a bit of curly kale; flowers were fancy stuff such as ladies liked to go in for, having nothing better to do with their time. He showed his affection by producing presents of the aforementioned asters, salvias, lobelia edging, and summer chrysanthemums.

Been doing some work at them new houses over at the Development. Want their gardens laid out nice, they do. More plants than they needed so I brought along a few, and I’ve put ’em in where them old-fashioned roses ain’t looking so well.

Thinking of these things, Miss Marple averted her eyes from the garden, and picked up her knitting.

One had to face the fact: St. Mary Mead was not the place it had been. In a sense, of course, nothing was what it had been. You could blame the war (both the wars) or the younger generation, or women going out to work, or the atom bomb, or just the Government—but what one really meant was the simple fact that one was growing old. Miss Marple, who was a very sensible lady, knew that quite well. It was just that, in a queer way, she felt it more in St. Mary Mead, because it had been her home for so long.

St. Mary Mead, the old world core of it, was still there. The Blue Boar was there, and the church and the vicarage and the little nest of Queen Anne and Georgian houses, of which hers was one. Miss Hartnell’s house was still there, and also Miss Hartnell, fighting progress to the last gasp. Miss Wetherby had passed on and her house was now inhabited by the bank manager and his family, having been given a face-lift by the painting of doors and windows a bright royal blue. There were new people in most of the other old houses, but the houses themselves were little changed in appearances since the people who had bought them had done so because they liked what the house agent called old world charm. They just added another bathroom, and spent a good deal of money on plumbing, electric cookers, and dishwashers.

But though the houses looked much as before, the same could hardly be said of the village street. When shops changed hands there, it was with a view to immediate and intemperate modernization. The fishmonger was unrecognizable with new super windows behind which the refrigerated fish gleamed. The butcher had remained conservative—good meat is good meat, if you have the money to pay for it. If not, you take the cheaper cuts and the tough joints and like it! Barnes, the grocer, was still there, unchanged, for which Miss Hartnell and Miss Marple and others daily thanked Heaven. So obliging, comfortable chairs to sit in by the counter, and cosy discussions as to cuts of bacon, and varieties of cheese. At the end of the street, however, where Mr. Toms had once had his basket shop stood a glittering new supermarket—anathema to the elderly ladies of St. Mary Mead.

"Packets of things one’s never even heard of, exclaimed Miss Hartnell. All these great packets of breakfast cereal instead of cooking a child a proper breakfast of bacon and eggs. And you’re expected to take a basket yourself and go round looking for things—it takes a quarter of an hour sometimes to find all one wants—and usually made up in inconvenient sizes, too much or too little. And then a long queue waiting to pay as you go out. Most tiring. Of course it’s all very well for the people from the Development—"

At this point she stopped.

Because, as was now usual, the sentence came to an end there. The Development, Period, as they would say in modern terms. It had an entity of its own, and a capital letter.

II

Miss Marple uttered a sharp exclamation of annoyance. She’d dropped a stitch again. Not only that, she must have dropped it some time ago. Not until now, when she had to decrease for the neck and count the stitches, had she realized the fact. She took up a spare pin, held the knitting sideways to the light and peered anxiously. Even her new spectacles didn’t seem to do any good. And that, she reflected, was because obviously there came a time when oculists, in spite of their luxurious waiting rooms, the up-to-date instruments, the bright lights they flashed into your eyes, and the very high fees they charged, couldn’t do anything much more for you. Miss Marple reflected with some nostalgia on how good her eyesight had been a few (well, not perhaps a few) years ago. From the vantage point of her garden, so admirably placed to see all that was going on in St. Mary Mead, how little had escaped her noticing eye! And with the help of her bird glasses—(an interest in birds was so useful!)—she had been able to see—She broke off there and let her thoughts run back over the past. Ann Protheroe in her summer frock going along to the Vicarage garden. And Colonel Protheroe—poor man—a very tiresome and unpleasant man, to be sure—but to be murdered like that—She shook her head and went on to thoughts of Griselda, the vicar’s pretty young wife. Dear Griselda—such a faithful friend—a Christmas card every year. That attractive baby of hers was a strapping young man now, and with a very good job. Engineering, was it? He always had enjoyed taking his mechanical trains to pieces. Beyond the Vicarage, there had been the stile and the field path with Farmer Giles’s cattle beyond in the meadows where now—now….

The Development.

And why not? Miss Marple asked herself sternly. These things had to be. The houses were necessary, and they were very well built, or so she had been told. Planning, or whatever they called it. Though why everything had to be called a Close she couldn’t imagine. Aubrey Close and Longwood Close, and Grandison Close and all the rest of them. Not really Closes at all. Miss Marple knew what a Close was perfectly. Her uncle had been a Canon of Chichester Cathedral. As a child she had gone to stay with him in the Close.

It was like Cherry Baker who always called Miss Marple’s oldworld overcrowded drawing room the lounge. Miss Marple corrected her gently, It’s the drawing room, Cherry. And Cherry, because she was young and kind, endeavoured to remember, though it was obvious to her drawing room was a very funny word to use—and lounge came slipping out. She had of late, however, compromised on living-room. Miss Marple liked Cherry very much. Her name was Mrs. Baker and she came from the Development. She was one of the detachment of young wives who shopped at the supermarket and wheeled prams about the quiet streets of St. Mary Mead. They were all smart and well turned out. Their hair was crisp and curled. They laughed and talked and called to one another. They were like a happy flock of birds. Owing to the insidious snares of Hire Purchase, they were always in need of ready money, though their husbands all earned good wages; and so they came and did housework or cooking. Cherry was a quick and efficient cook, she was an intelligent girl, took telephone calls correctly and was quick to spot inaccuracies in the tradesmen’s books. She was not much given to turning mattresses, and as far as washing up went Miss Marple always now passed the pantry door with her head turned away so as not to observe Cherry’s method which was that of thrusting everything into the sink together and letting loose a snowstorm of detergent on it. Miss Marple had quietly removed her old Worcester tea set from daily circulation and put it in the corner cabinet whence it only emerged on special occasions. Instead she had purchased a modern service with a pattern of pale grey on white and no gilt on it whatsoever to be washed away in the sink.

How different it had been in the past… Faithful Florence, for instance, that grenadier of a parlourmaid—and there had been Amy and Clara and Alice, those nice little maids—arriving from St. Faith’s Orphanage, to be trained, and then going on to betterpaid jobs elsewhere. Rather simple, some of them had been, and frequently adenoidal, and Amy distinctly moronic. They had gossiped and chattered with the other maids in the village and walked out with the fishmonger’s assistant, or the undergardener at the Hall, or one of Mr. Barnes the grocer’s numerous assistants. Miss Marple’s mind went back over them affectionately thinking of all the little woolly coats she had knitted for their subsequent offspring. They had not been very good with the telephone, and no good at all at arithmetic. On the other hand, they knew how to wash up, and how to make a bed. They had had skills, rather than education. It was odd that nowadays it should be the educated girls who went in for all the domestic chores. Students from abroad, girls au pair, university students in the vacation, young married women like Cherry Baker, who lived in spurious Closes on new building developments.

There were still, of course, people like Miss Knight. This last thought came suddenly as Miss Knight’s tread overhead made the lustres on the mantelpiece tinkle warningly. Miss Knight had obviously had her afternoon rest and would now go out for her afternoon walk. In a moment she would come to ask Miss Marple if she could get her anything in the town. The thought of Miss Knight brought the usual reaction to Miss Marple’s mind. Of course, it was very generous of dear Raymond (her nephew) and nobody could be kinder than Miss Knight, and of course that attack of bronchitis had left her very weak, and Dr. Haydock had said very firmly that she must not go on sleeping alone in the house with only someone coming in daily, but—She stopped there. Because it was no use going on with the thought which was If only it could have been someone other than Miss Knight. But there wasn’t much choice for elderly ladies nowadays. Devoted maidservants had gone out of fashion. In real illness you could have a proper hospital nurse, at vast expense and procured with difficulty, or you could go to hospital. But after the critical phase of illness had passed, you were down to the Miss Knights.

There wasn’t, Miss Marple reflected, anything wrong about the Miss Knights other than the fact that they were madly irritating. They were full of kindness, ready to feel affection towards their charges, to humour them, to be bright and cheerful with them and in general to treat them as slightly mentally afflicted children.

But I, said Miss Marple to herself, "although I may be old, am not a mentally retarded child."

At this moment, breathing rather heavily, as was her custom, Miss Knight bounced brightly into the room. She was a big, rather flabby woman of fifty-six with yellowing grey hair very elaborately arranged, glasses, a long thin nose, and below it a good-natured mouth and a weak chin.

Here we are! she exclaimed with a kind of beaming boisterousness, meant to cheer and enliven the sad twilight of the aged. "I hope we’ve had our little snooze?"

"I have been knitting, Miss Marple replied, putting some emphasis on the pronoun, and, she went on, confessing her weakness with distaste and shame, I’ve dropped a stitch."

Oh dear, dear, said Miss Knight. Well, we’ll soon put that right, won’t we?

"You will, said Miss Marple. I, alas, am unable to do so."

The slight acerbity of her tone passed quite unnoticed. Miss Knight, as always, was eager to help.

There, she said after a few moments. There you are, dear. Quite all right now.

Though Miss Marple was perfectly agreeable to be called dear (and even ducks) by the woman at the greengrocer or the girl at the paper shop, it annoyed her intensely to be called dear by Miss Knight. Another of those things that elderly ladies have to bear. She thanked Miss Knight politely.

And now I’m just going out for my wee toddle, said Miss Knight humorously. Shan’t be long.

Please don’t dream of hurrying back, said Miss Marple politely and sincerely.

Well, I don’t like to leave you too long on your own, dear, in case you get moped.

I assure you I am quite happy, said Miss Marple. I probably shall have (she closed her eyes) a little nap.

That’s right, dear. Anything I can get you?

Miss Marple opened her eyes and considered.

You might go into Longdon’s and see if the curtains are ready. And perhaps another skein of the blue wool from Mrs. Wisley. And a box of black currant lozenges at the chemist’s. And change my book at the library—but don’t let them give you anything that isn’t on my list. This last one was too terrible. I couldn’t read it. She held out The Spring Awakens.

Oh dear dear! Didn’t you like it? I thought you’d love it. Such a pretty story.

"And if it isn’t too far for you, perhaps you wouldn’t mind going as far as Halletts and see if they have one of those up-and-down egg whisks—not the turn-the-handle kind."

(She knew very well they had nothing of the kind, but Halletts was the farthest shop possible.)

If all this isn’t too much— she murmured.

But Miss Knight replied with obvious sincerity.

Not at all. I shall be delighted.

Miss Knight loved shopping. It was the breath of life to her. One met acquaintances, and had the chance of a chat, one gossiped with the assistants, and had the opportunity of examining various articles in the various shops. And one could spend quite a long time engaged in these pleasant occupations without any guilty feeling that it was one’s duty to hurry back.

So Miss Knight started off happily, after a last glance at the frail old lady resting so peacefully by the window.

After waiting a few minutes in case Miss Knight should return for a shopping bag, or her purse, or a handkerchief (she was a great forgetter and returner), and also to recover from the slight mental fatigue induced by thinking of so many unwanted things to ask Miss Knight to get, Miss Marple rose briskly to her feet, cast aside her knitting and strode purposefully across the room and into the hall. She took down her summer coat from its peg, a stick from the hall stand and exchanged her bedroom slippers for a pair of stout walking shoes. Then she left the house by the side door.

It will take her at least an hour and a half, Miss Marple estimated to herself. Quite that—with all the people from the Development doing their shopping.

Miss Marple visualized Miss Knight at Longdon’s making abortive inquiries re curtains. Her surmises were remarkably accurate. At this moment Miss Knight was exclaiming, Of course, I felt quite sure in my own mind they wouldn’t be ready yet. But of course I said I’d come along and see when the old lady spoke about it. Poor old dears, they’ve got so little to look forward to. One must humour them. And she’s a sweet old lady. Failing a little now, it’s only to be expected—their faculties get dimmed. Now that’s a pretty material you’ve got there. Do you have it in any other colours?

A pleasant twenty minutes passed. When Miss Knight had finally departed, the senior assistant remarked with a sniff, Failing, is she? I’ll believe that when I see it for myself. Old Miss Marple has always been as sharp as a needle, and I’d say she still is. She then gave her attention to a young woman in tight trousers and a sailcloth jersey who wanted plastic material with crabs on it for bathroom curtains.

Emily Waters, that’s who she reminds me of, Miss Marple was saying to herself, with the satisfaction it always gave her to match up a human personality with one known in the past. Just the same bird brain. Let me see, what happened to Emily?

Nothing much, was her conclusion. She had once nearly got engaged to a curate, but after an understanding of several years the affair had fizzled out. Miss Marple dismissed her nurse attendant from her mind and gave her attention to her surroundings. She had traversed the garden rapidly only observing as it were from the corner of her eye that Laycock had cut down the old-fashioned roses in a way more suitable to hybrid teas, but she did not allow this to distress her, or distract her from the delicious pleasure of having escaped for an outing entirely on her own. She had a happy feeling of adventure. She turned to the right, entered the Vicarage gate, took the path through the Vicarage garden and came out on the right of way. Where the stile had been there was now an iron swing gate giving on to a tarred asphalt path. This led to a neat little bridge over the stream and on the other side of the stream where once there had been meadows with cows, there was the Development.

Two

With the feeling of Columbus setting out to discover a new world, Miss Marple passed over the bridge, continued on to the path and within four minutes was actually in Aubrey Close.

Of course Miss Marple had seen the Development from the Market Basing Road, that is, had seen from afar its Closes and rows of neat well-built houses, with their television masts and their blue and pink and yellow and green painted doors and windows. But until now it had only had the reality of a map, as it were. She had not been in it and of it. But now she was here, observing the brave new world that was springing up, the world that by all accounts was foreign to all she had known. It was like a neat model built with child’s bricks. It hardly seemed real to Miss Marple.

The people, too, looked unreal. The trousered young women, the rather sinister-looking young men and boys, the exuberant bosoms of the fifteen-year-old girls. Miss Marple couldn’t help thinking that it all looked terribly depraved. Nobody noticed her much as she trudged along. She turned out of Aubrey Close and was presently in Darlington Close. She went slowly and as she went she listened avidly to the snippets of conversation between

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