What do you think?
Rate this book
Hercule Poirot #7.5
Black Coffee
The inventor Sir Claud Amory is left with a bitter taste in his mouth when the formula for his powerful new explosive is stolen-by someone staying in his own house.
224 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1998
1764 people are currently reading
17655 people want to read
About the author
Charles Osborne
202 books104 followersCharles Thomas Osborne was a journalist, theatre and opera critic, poet and novelist. He was assistant editor of The London Magazine from 1958 until 1966, literature director of the Arts Council of Great Britain from 1971 until 1986, and chief theatre critic of Daily Telegraph (London) from 1986 to 1991. He is the only author the Agatha Christie Estate has ever allowed to produce adapted works in her name. (wikipedia)
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 2,298 reviews
November 16, 2020
2019 LISTEN for pleasure (?)
Well I have just finished listening to this, not because I was hoping it would get better but because for various reasons I just wanted to listen to a detective novel (the comfort of being read to) and I happened to have this on my iPod.
In actual fact, it was better than reading the book, not enough to change the 3 star rating (it was about a 3.5 ⭐️) but enough that I don’t think so badly of it.
Hastings is still a parody of his character, and Japp is again just a by product, but, oh ok I did enjoy it a bit. Right that’s it, still 3 stars but it was what I needed at the time. BTW, I did get rid of the book (see below).
2018 READ for Hercule Poirot Challenge
Hmm, well to me it was relatively easy to tell that this was not "written" by Agatha Christie. The story whilst a good one was just missing something that lifted it into the realms of a true Poirot book, it missed that "Agatha-ness", that only she could give it.
There are a number of things that didn't quite ring true, Hastings was one, it was like he was being used when a foil was needed. He'd disappear for 30 pages to suddenly make an idiotic comment and then be gone again. Japp was another, he makes an appearance, does very little and thats it.
No, this was not good and to me only just scraped 3 stars, how Matthew Pritchard (Agatha Christie's grandson) can say "Agatha would be proud to have written it" I do not know.
(I bought this book especially for the challenge, but shall be passing it on to a charity shop, as I shall never re-read)
Well I have just finished listening to this, not because I was hoping it would get better but because for various reasons I just wanted to listen to a detective novel (the comfort of being read to) and I happened to have this on my iPod.
In actual fact, it was better than reading the book, not enough to change the 3 star rating (it was about a 3.5 ⭐️) but enough that I don’t think so badly of it.
Hastings is still a parody of his character, and Japp is again just a by product, but, oh ok I did enjoy it a bit. Right that’s it, still 3 stars but it was what I needed at the time. BTW, I did get rid of the book (see below).
2018 READ for Hercule Poirot Challenge
Hmm, well to me it was relatively easy to tell that this was not "written" by Agatha Christie. The story whilst a good one was just missing something that lifted it into the realms of a true Poirot book, it missed that "Agatha-ness", that only she could give it.
There are a number of things that didn't quite ring true, Hastings was one, it was like he was being used when a foil was needed. He'd disappear for 30 pages to suddenly make an idiotic comment and then be gone again. Japp was another, he makes an appearance, does very little and thats it.
No, this was not good and to me only just scraped 3 stars, how Matthew Pritchard (Agatha Christie's grandson) can say "Agatha would be proud to have written it" I do not know.
(I bought this book especially for the challenge, but shall be passing it on to a charity shop, as I shall never re-read)
May 6, 2024
This was a bad idea.
Take an early play by Agatha Christie, so over-written for the stage that it comes across as an amusing self-parody. Select a non-fiction writer, opera expert and erstwhile actor, to turn it into a novel. Result? A frankly embarrassing read. Histrionics and melodrama do not work on the page; or at least not for a modern audience. Neither is a good novel crafted in the same way as a play.
I had my doubts early on, when one of the characters was telling us the history of another, at great length. We are then treated to an inordinately detailed description of the drawing room, and rather stilted dialogue. Adding a plan of the room ensures that we are in for a very clunky read indeed.
The telling of a character’s life history and present situation is a crude way of getting information across, which would be far better slowly revealed by events. This is a rookie mistake. The detailed description was clearly lifted verbatim from stage directions. And a sketch map? In chapter two? Why? We are still grindingly slowly being introduced to the characters; nothing has happened to merit this. No little grey cells are frantically trying to work out how a locked room murder has been committed (although this is indeed, to come). Neither are we interior decorators, being invited to redesign the room.
Take this piece of sparkling writing:
“Sir Claud Amory joined the dinner party, taking his place at the head of the table around which the six others were already seated. On Sir Claud’s right sat his niece, Barbara Amory, with Richard, her cousin and the only son of Sir Claud, next to her. On Richard Amory’s right sat a house-guest, Dr Carelli an Italian. Continuing round, at the opposite end of the table to Sir Claud, sat Caroline Amory his sister. A middle-aged spinster, she had run Sir Claud’s house for him ever since his wife died some years earlier. Edward Raynor, Sir Claud’s secretary, sat on Miss Amory’s right, with Lucia, Richard Amory’s wife, between him and the head of the household.”
More stage directions? Or is this an exceptionally dry piece of writing by a nonfiction writer, keen to cram in as much information as possible, without worrying about how dry it is? Close your eyes. Now what can you remember? I can remember very little - and I’ve just typed it out!
Here is another choice bit of dialogue:
“I was just saying dear wasn’t I, what a very strange thing it was that Dr Carelli should turn up in the way he did, with no idea that you were living in this part of the world. You simply ran into him, in the village, and invited him here. It must have been a great surprise for you, my dear, mustn’t it?”
Ouch! The phrase “show not tell” springs to mind. And most especially, do not have one character telling another what they have done!
A feeble attempt at suspense is attempted:
“‘There are shadows -’ she looked over her shoulder as though she could see them ‘shadows everywhere.’”
And I plodded through to chapter 3. By now the convention has been established. The older generation are gossipy women, tactless, insular with vague prejudices, and a little dim-witted. The younger ones are slightly brighter, glamorous, but brittle and fragile, given to emotional outbursts (female), or sullen resentment quick to anger (male). All most amusing, don’t you know.
It really is painting by numbers, this novel. Perhaps you remember the kits from when you were a child. The outline of a picture was printed on canvas board, and the picture at this point was not entirely clear. The task was to fill in the numbered patches, with oil paint provided in tiny numbered pots, with a brush. The brush strokes must not be seen. That would add unwanted texture and depth: something this novel badly lacks. Also when the picture was completed, it was possible to tell instantly that this was not an original painting, but completed from a kit. It did not really gel. The areas were discrete. Nothing blended naturally. It remained … crude.
By chapter 5 we have several elements in place. We have met the players in this farce of a murder mystery, been privy to several secrets, seen the poison handled by various individuals, and witnessed much gossiping, whispering and sneering. All of this interspersed with stage directions, so that we know just exactly who is engrossed in a newspaper, who has moved across the room to sit down in a small armchair, who is dancing with whom, who is standing in front of the fireplace, who has put a lump of sugar into their coffee, who has fallen asleep, who is walking across the room … ad infinitum.
On, wearily, to chapter 5. Ah, now this is where the novel should have started! A novel is different from a play. It needs something to engage our attention. A play has other elements which can prove interesting to the audience, but keeping the text of the play in the same order, I fear, was a mistake. Now we have something to grab the attention.
The drawing room is plunged into darkness. The door has been locked from the outside. When the lights are switched back on, a priceless formula which had been stolen, has apparently miraculously appeared, in full view of everyone present, exactly as Sir Claud requested. Sir Claud had announced that one of the people present was a thief. He offered a deal: that if whoever stole the envelope containing the papers put it on the table, then no questions would be asked. But once the lights were turned back on, by Tredwell, the butler, if the papers were not there, then the matter would be out of his hands, and turned over to the police. But the thrill of the returned envelope is short-lived, for someone is now dead, and of course the reader knows that they must have been murdered.
Now that is a great piece of theatre.
The story? Sir Claud Amory is a famous, award-winning physicist. He had developed the principle for accelerating particles: the travelling wave particle accelerator. Now he has been working on a new formula to bombard the atom, and obviously this was work which was of great interest to the Ministry of Defence, for use in any future war. However Sir Claud was extremely worried, and called Hercule Poirot to ask for help, informing him that someone in his own household was attempting to steal the formula, since his work was now complete, and a new and deadly explosive could be made.
Hercule Poirot and his friend Captain Arthur Hastings travelled to the Amory residence, but by the time they arrive, someone has been poisoned, and the formula has indeed disappeared. It is up to Poirot and his little grey cells to untangle the mystery. A nice touch is that every single person present had the chance to steal the formula, as each character had been left alone in the drawing room for a few minutes, shortly before they had all been summoned to Sir Claud Amory’s presence. It is a shame that the description of each of their actions was written in quite so pedestrian a fashion.
This is a locked room mystery; moreover the French windows are secured by an ingenious lock of Sir Claud’s own design, which nobody else can work. There is, handily, a tin of poisonous drugs from an ancient doctor’s bag, which is kept on top of a cupboard and accessible to all. The tin contains several phials of deadly chemicals, each of which could prove fatal. In particular hyoscine hydrobromide could easily put a person into “a dreamless sleep”. (This fact was helpfully communicated to everyone in the novel, by one of the characters.) We also have much confusion, by virtue of more than one switching of possibly poisoned cups of coffee.
There is jealousy and intrigue. At least one of the characters is deeply in debt. At least one has a mysterious past, and it is revealed that one of the characters comes from dubious, villainous, parentage. There are hints of an Italian political plot. We have three of Agatha Christie’s much-loved star characters present, in Hercule Poirot, Captain Arthur Hastings, and Sergeant Japp, of Scotland Yard. All the elements are there for a superb whodunnit ... and yet what we have is a camp travesty.
The adapter of Agatha Christie’s play Black Coffee, is the Australian-born author, Charles Osborne, who at various times of his life had been an actor, a life model, a chorus boy, a bookshop assistant, a cinema usher and an underwear sales rep. However, he was also a poet, theatre critic, editor, opera buff and biographer, and the literature director of the Arts Council of Great Britain from 1971 to 1986. His policies were often controversial, but his work as a writer was much respected. Charles Osborne was equally at home in biography, journalism, poetry, music, drama and literary criticism.
Charles Osborne showed an early talent for music, and his works included studies of the operas of Verdi, Wagner, Strauss and Mozart. When in his twenties, he earned a living through acting, appearing in everything from Shakespeare to Noël Coward, in the theatres of Brisbane, Melbourne and beyond, and played rep in “Ned Kelly country”. He also wrote good poetry, and when he forgot his lines on stage, was able to improvise with impeccable blank verse. He appeared in radio plays, serials and commercials and after winning a competition on one tour for having the most shapely legs in the company, earned extra cash by posing nude for a life class at the National Art Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne.
In 1953, at the age of 25, he set sail for Great Britain, where he was to live for the rest of his life. Initially he was employed in casual work, including as a commissionaire at the “Academy” cinema in Oxford Street, London. However, his insistence on wearing his cap at what he considered “a suitably insouciant angle” resulted in him being fired. He sounds quite a character!
From 1986 to 1991 he was the chief theatre critic of the “Daily Telegraph” newspaper, and also contributed criticism on a wide variety of topics to other leading publications, including “Opera” magazine. He wrote several highly regarded books on Classical music, and published poetry which has been critically acclaimed.
Charles Osborne wrote a biography of W.H. Auden (with whom he had a special friendship), and a biographical companion to the works of Agatha Christie. He converted other plays into novels too: Noël Coward’s “Blithe Spirit” and Oscar Wilde’s “The Importance of Being Earnest”. Black Coffee is not the only play by Agatha Christie to have been graced by his attention. He adapted two more into novels.
In 1998, Charles Osborne had taken a little known play by Agatha Christie, Black Coffee, which had initially been rejected by her publisher as “not good enough”. Black Coffee was eventually published in 1930, although the action is set in 1934. Charles Osborne adapted Agatha Christie’s play, and turned it into a novel. This was approved by the Christie estate, and enthusiastically endorsed by her grandson Michael Prichard, who described it as “a classic ‘someone in this room is the murderer’ story” .
In fact Charles Osborne’s novelisation of the play was so well received, that he wrote two more: “The Unexpected Guest” in 1999 and “Spider’s Web” in 2000. I doubt very much whether I shall be reading these. It baffles me a little that the clunky Black Coffee has proved so popular. I can only put it down to the public’s insatiable desire for “a new Agatha Christie”, and the idea that any flaws of writing style would be forgivable, if it was truly a retelling of the Great Dame’s initial devising. For my part, I would prefer to read an original novel by her again, in the hope that I would not guess “whodunnit”. There are certainly plenty of them.
I do not doubt the credentials of this author, but fiction is not his forte. I am rating this at one star, often finding the read excruciating. I suspect however, that the original play would rate two stars from me. It has some good ideas; which are classic Christie. A two star read is worth reading: by Goodreads guidelines, “it was OK”, but nothing special.
So would I watch the play as live theatre? Yes, quite possibly. I can imagine a talented amateur company having great fun camping this up, overindulging their talent for melodrama, and making the most of the ridiculously over-the-top histrionics. It could make for an amusing, fun evening, and it is quite possible that Agatha Christie had this in mind, and wrote this with her tongue firmly in her cheek. A young Charles Osborne apparently starred in one of the first productions, as Dr Carelli.
Did I guess “whodunit” in this case? Yes - and let me assure you that I am usually fairly hopeless at this. It was a bit of a giveaway though, that Poirot asked for whisky! A nice, and predictable, piece of theatre followed this.
I will leave you with the bare bones of the clues: the sounds made during that early two minutes when the lights were switched off by Sir Claud Amory, and which Poirot considered essential to solving the plot:
“‘Gasps … a lot of little gasps … the noise of a chair falling … a metallic click … a scream … the knocking at the door … oh! … right at the beginning, the noise of tearing silk …’
‘It is all there Hastings, in those few moments of darkness. All there. And yet our ears tell us - nothing.’”
And a recurring motif:
“The coffee tastes bitter.”
Indeed it does.
Take an early play by Agatha Christie, so over-written for the stage that it comes across as an amusing self-parody. Select a non-fiction writer, opera expert and erstwhile actor, to turn it into a novel. Result? A frankly embarrassing read. Histrionics and melodrama do not work on the page; or at least not for a modern audience. Neither is a good novel crafted in the same way as a play.
I had my doubts early on, when one of the characters was telling us the history of another, at great length. We are then treated to an inordinately detailed description of the drawing room, and rather stilted dialogue. Adding a plan of the room ensures that we are in for a very clunky read indeed.
The telling of a character’s life history and present situation is a crude way of getting information across, which would be far better slowly revealed by events. This is a rookie mistake. The detailed description was clearly lifted verbatim from stage directions. And a sketch map? In chapter two? Why? We are still grindingly slowly being introduced to the characters; nothing has happened to merit this. No little grey cells are frantically trying to work out how a locked room murder has been committed (although this is indeed, to come). Neither are we interior decorators, being invited to redesign the room.
Take this piece of sparkling writing:
“Sir Claud Amory joined the dinner party, taking his place at the head of the table around which the six others were already seated. On Sir Claud’s right sat his niece, Barbara Amory, with Richard, her cousin and the only son of Sir Claud, next to her. On Richard Amory’s right sat a house-guest, Dr Carelli an Italian. Continuing round, at the opposite end of the table to Sir Claud, sat Caroline Amory his sister. A middle-aged spinster, she had run Sir Claud’s house for him ever since his wife died some years earlier. Edward Raynor, Sir Claud’s secretary, sat on Miss Amory’s right, with Lucia, Richard Amory’s wife, between him and the head of the household.”
More stage directions? Or is this an exceptionally dry piece of writing by a nonfiction writer, keen to cram in as much information as possible, without worrying about how dry it is? Close your eyes. Now what can you remember? I can remember very little - and I’ve just typed it out!
Here is another choice bit of dialogue:
“I was just saying dear wasn’t I, what a very strange thing it was that Dr Carelli should turn up in the way he did, with no idea that you were living in this part of the world. You simply ran into him, in the village, and invited him here. It must have been a great surprise for you, my dear, mustn’t it?”
Ouch! The phrase “show not tell” springs to mind. And most especially, do not have one character telling another what they have done!
A feeble attempt at suspense is attempted:
“‘There are shadows -’ she looked over her shoulder as though she could see them ‘shadows everywhere.’”
And I plodded through to chapter 3. By now the convention has been established. The older generation are gossipy women, tactless, insular with vague prejudices, and a little dim-witted. The younger ones are slightly brighter, glamorous, but brittle and fragile, given to emotional outbursts (female), or sullen resentment quick to anger (male). All most amusing, don’t you know.
It really is painting by numbers, this novel. Perhaps you remember the kits from when you were a child. The outline of a picture was printed on canvas board, and the picture at this point was not entirely clear. The task was to fill in the numbered patches, with oil paint provided in tiny numbered pots, with a brush. The brush strokes must not be seen. That would add unwanted texture and depth: something this novel badly lacks. Also when the picture was completed, it was possible to tell instantly that this was not an original painting, but completed from a kit. It did not really gel. The areas were discrete. Nothing blended naturally. It remained … crude.
By chapter 5 we have several elements in place. We have met the players in this farce of a murder mystery, been privy to several secrets, seen the poison handled by various individuals, and witnessed much gossiping, whispering and sneering. All of this interspersed with stage directions, so that we know just exactly who is engrossed in a newspaper, who has moved across the room to sit down in a small armchair, who is dancing with whom, who is standing in front of the fireplace, who has put a lump of sugar into their coffee, who has fallen asleep, who is walking across the room … ad infinitum.
On, wearily, to chapter 5. Ah, now this is where the novel should have started! A novel is different from a play. It needs something to engage our attention. A play has other elements which can prove interesting to the audience, but keeping the text of the play in the same order, I fear, was a mistake. Now we have something to grab the attention.
The drawing room is plunged into darkness. The door has been locked from the outside. When the lights are switched back on, a priceless formula which had been stolen, has apparently miraculously appeared, in full view of everyone present, exactly as Sir Claud requested. Sir Claud had announced that one of the people present was a thief. He offered a deal: that if whoever stole the envelope containing the papers put it on the table, then no questions would be asked. But once the lights were turned back on, by Tredwell, the butler, if the papers were not there, then the matter would be out of his hands, and turned over to the police. But the thrill of the returned envelope is short-lived, for someone is now dead, and of course the reader knows that they must have been murdered.
Now that is a great piece of theatre.
The story? Sir Claud Amory is a famous, award-winning physicist. He had developed the principle for accelerating particles: the travelling wave particle accelerator. Now he has been working on a new formula to bombard the atom, and obviously this was work which was of great interest to the Ministry of Defence, for use in any future war. However Sir Claud was extremely worried, and called Hercule Poirot to ask for help, informing him that someone in his own household was attempting to steal the formula, since his work was now complete, and a new and deadly explosive could be made.
Hercule Poirot and his friend Captain Arthur Hastings travelled to the Amory residence, but by the time they arrive, someone has been poisoned, and the formula has indeed disappeared. It is up to Poirot and his little grey cells to untangle the mystery. A nice touch is that every single person present had the chance to steal the formula, as each character had been left alone in the drawing room for a few minutes, shortly before they had all been summoned to Sir Claud Amory’s presence. It is a shame that the description of each of their actions was written in quite so pedestrian a fashion.
This is a locked room mystery; moreover the French windows are secured by an ingenious lock of Sir Claud’s own design, which nobody else can work. There is, handily, a tin of poisonous drugs from an ancient doctor’s bag, which is kept on top of a cupboard and accessible to all. The tin contains several phials of deadly chemicals, each of which could prove fatal. In particular hyoscine hydrobromide could easily put a person into “a dreamless sleep”. (This fact was helpfully communicated to everyone in the novel, by one of the characters.) We also have much confusion, by virtue of more than one switching of possibly poisoned cups of coffee.
There is jealousy and intrigue. At least one of the characters is deeply in debt. At least one has a mysterious past, and it is revealed that one of the characters comes from dubious, villainous, parentage. There are hints of an Italian political plot. We have three of Agatha Christie’s much-loved star characters present, in Hercule Poirot, Captain Arthur Hastings, and Sergeant Japp, of Scotland Yard. All the elements are there for a superb whodunnit ... and yet what we have is a camp travesty.
The adapter of Agatha Christie’s play Black Coffee, is the Australian-born author, Charles Osborne, who at various times of his life had been an actor, a life model, a chorus boy, a bookshop assistant, a cinema usher and an underwear sales rep. However, he was also a poet, theatre critic, editor, opera buff and biographer, and the literature director of the Arts Council of Great Britain from 1971 to 1986. His policies were often controversial, but his work as a writer was much respected. Charles Osborne was equally at home in biography, journalism, poetry, music, drama and literary criticism.
Charles Osborne showed an early talent for music, and his works included studies of the operas of Verdi, Wagner, Strauss and Mozart. When in his twenties, he earned a living through acting, appearing in everything from Shakespeare to Noël Coward, in the theatres of Brisbane, Melbourne and beyond, and played rep in “Ned Kelly country”. He also wrote good poetry, and when he forgot his lines on stage, was able to improvise with impeccable blank verse. He appeared in radio plays, serials and commercials and after winning a competition on one tour for having the most shapely legs in the company, earned extra cash by posing nude for a life class at the National Art Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne.
In 1953, at the age of 25, he set sail for Great Britain, where he was to live for the rest of his life. Initially he was employed in casual work, including as a commissionaire at the “Academy” cinema in Oxford Street, London. However, his insistence on wearing his cap at what he considered “a suitably insouciant angle” resulted in him being fired. He sounds quite a character!
From 1986 to 1991 he was the chief theatre critic of the “Daily Telegraph” newspaper, and also contributed criticism on a wide variety of topics to other leading publications, including “Opera” magazine. He wrote several highly regarded books on Classical music, and published poetry which has been critically acclaimed.
Charles Osborne wrote a biography of W.H. Auden (with whom he had a special friendship), and a biographical companion to the works of Agatha Christie. He converted other plays into novels too: Noël Coward’s “Blithe Spirit” and Oscar Wilde’s “The Importance of Being Earnest”. Black Coffee is not the only play by Agatha Christie to have been graced by his attention. He adapted two more into novels.
In 1998, Charles Osborne had taken a little known play by Agatha Christie, Black Coffee, which had initially been rejected by her publisher as “not good enough”. Black Coffee was eventually published in 1930, although the action is set in 1934. Charles Osborne adapted Agatha Christie’s play, and turned it into a novel. This was approved by the Christie estate, and enthusiastically endorsed by her grandson Michael Prichard, who described it as “a classic ‘someone in this room is the murderer’ story” .
In fact Charles Osborne’s novelisation of the play was so well received, that he wrote two more: “The Unexpected Guest” in 1999 and “Spider’s Web” in 2000. I doubt very much whether I shall be reading these. It baffles me a little that the clunky Black Coffee has proved so popular. I can only put it down to the public’s insatiable desire for “a new Agatha Christie”, and the idea that any flaws of writing style would be forgivable, if it was truly a retelling of the Great Dame’s initial devising. For my part, I would prefer to read an original novel by her again, in the hope that I would not guess “whodunnit”. There are certainly plenty of them.
I do not doubt the credentials of this author, but fiction is not his forte. I am rating this at one star, often finding the read excruciating. I suspect however, that the original play would rate two stars from me. It has some good ideas; which are classic Christie. A two star read is worth reading: by Goodreads guidelines, “it was OK”, but nothing special.
So would I watch the play as live theatre? Yes, quite possibly. I can imagine a talented amateur company having great fun camping this up, overindulging their talent for melodrama, and making the most of the ridiculously over-the-top histrionics. It could make for an amusing, fun evening, and it is quite possible that Agatha Christie had this in mind, and wrote this with her tongue firmly in her cheek. A young Charles Osborne apparently starred in one of the first productions, as Dr Carelli.
Did I guess “whodunit” in this case? Yes - and let me assure you that I am usually fairly hopeless at this. It was a bit of a giveaway though, that Poirot asked for whisky! A nice, and predictable, piece of theatre followed this.
I will leave you with the bare bones of the clues: the sounds made during that early two minutes when the lights were switched off by Sir Claud Amory, and which Poirot considered essential to solving the plot:
“‘Gasps … a lot of little gasps … the noise of a chair falling … a metallic click … a scream … the knocking at the door … oh! … right at the beginning, the noise of tearing silk …’
‘It is all there Hastings, in those few moments of darkness. All there. And yet our ears tell us - nothing.’”
And a recurring motif:
“The coffee tastes bitter.”
Indeed it does.
July 11, 2022
Not as bad as I remember it being years ago.
It's still not great and I wouldn't recommend it to anyone outside of completionists like myself.
Why?
Good question, random Goodreader.
This was a play written by Agatha Christie that was eventually adapted into a novel by Charles Osborne. It wasn't supposed to be a novel.
And it shows.
A brilliant scientist is poisoned, and the secret formula he was working on is missing.
Has he been done in by spies?
By a greedy relative?
Or someone with a secret of their own to keep?
Poirot was called in by the murdered man before he was killed but only arrived in time to notice that his body was starting to cool off. He and Hastings help the police sort through all of the alibis and lies that surround the dead man's...Black Coffee.
Yeah. Ok. Not that the story doesn't smack of an Agatha Christie novel, but it just doesn't read well. If you do insist on knocking this one off your bucket list, I'd suggest you do what I did and listen to the audiobook narration. I'd read it with my eyeballs years ago and it wasn't a good experience.
Recommended for completionists only.
It's still not great and I wouldn't recommend it to anyone outside of completionists like myself.
Why?
Good question, random Goodreader.
This was a play written by Agatha Christie that was eventually adapted into a novel by Charles Osborne. It wasn't supposed to be a novel.
And it shows.
A brilliant scientist is poisoned, and the secret formula he was working on is missing.
Has he been done in by spies?
By a greedy relative?
Or someone with a secret of their own to keep?
Poirot was called in by the murdered man before he was killed but only arrived in time to notice that his body was starting to cool off. He and Hastings help the police sort through all of the alibis and lies that surround the dead man's...Black Coffee.
Yeah. Ok. Not that the story doesn't smack of an Agatha Christie novel, but it just doesn't read well. If you do insist on knocking this one off your bucket list, I'd suggest you do what I did and listen to the audiobook narration. I'd read it with my eyeballs years ago and it wasn't a good experience.
Recommended for completionists only.
September 25, 2025
'Me, I am a detective – but only a Belgian one. Nevertheless, mademoiselle, we foreigners do arrive at the correct answer occasionally.’
Black Coffee sees Hercule Poirot summoned by a scientist worried about his very important formula being stolen, but ends up being poisoned (mixed with, if you guessed it, black coffee) just as Poirot arrives. Poirot stays to solve the mystery, of course. This drama adapted from a play, feels a bit too wooden when written as a book, with the characters being a little melodramatic, and the comings and goings too disconnected. I do think I would like to see this as a proper play however, as it was meant to be enjoyed.
Agatha Christie's characters and the almost unique way Poirot looks at the world remain the strengths of this book. The plot has a couple twists, but definitely doesn't rank amongst her best mysteries. This book is for anyone who wants to read all of Agatha Christie's work (as I started some time ago), but otherwise can be skipped without missing much.
🌟🌟
[Half a star for the premise and the whole book; Half a star for the characters; Half a star for the story arc; Half a star for the world-building and description; Zero stars for the writing - Two stars in total].
Black Coffee sees Hercule Poirot summoned by a scientist worried about his very important formula being stolen, but ends up being poisoned (mixed with, if you guessed it, black coffee) just as Poirot arrives. Poirot stays to solve the mystery, of course. This drama adapted from a play, feels a bit too wooden when written as a book, with the characters being a little melodramatic, and the comings and goings too disconnected. I do think I would like to see this as a proper play however, as it was meant to be enjoyed.
Agatha Christie's characters and the almost unique way Poirot looks at the world remain the strengths of this book. The plot has a couple twists, but definitely doesn't rank amongst her best mysteries. This book is for anyone who wants to read all of Agatha Christie's work (as I started some time ago), but otherwise can be skipped without missing much.
🌟🌟
[Half a star for the premise and the whole book; Half a star for the characters; Half a star for the story arc; Half a star for the world-building and description; Zero stars for the writing - Two stars in total].
August 19, 2024
The mystery detective novel Black Coffee was not written by Agatha Christie, in spite of the 24-point-type declaration of her name above the title that the Christie estate insisted on [ruddy liars!]. Black Coffee is a novelization published in 1998 by Charles Osborne of the 1930 play of the same name by Christie. Osborne had written a scholarly work about Christie’s fiction that was praised by the Christie estate; Osborne, encouraged by this, proposed to write a novelization of one of her plays and they enthusiastically agreed. Christie’s last book had been published 22 years before, in 1976, the year she had died, and they probably saw this as a way to boost the Christie franchise [cash grab]. So 68 years after Black Coffee was launched on stage, it emerged as a novel with her name on it. Most of the words in it are hers. But.
Christie didn’t like any of the dramatic adaptations of any of her novels, which led to her trying her hand at playwriting herself. The Mousetrap is one of the very, very successful ones, obviously, the longest running play of all time, well-written, great theatre; Black Coffee was one of Christie’s early attempts at drama that was pretty well received, as she was an author of international renown already by this time, but it is now seen as a very minor work in the Christie universe, though two films were actually made of the play. But I can’t imagine Christie herself actually adapting it to a novel just to [make more money for the Christie family] fill out her already substantial catalogue.
In this novel[ization], Hercule Poirot and his friend Hastings [hiss, such a dope!] visit the famous physicist Sir Claud Amory, who has devised the formula for a new type of explosive, but they learn that he has been poisoned (in his black coffee, hence the title) the night of their arrival. Christie famously makes it very difficult to find out who dunnit in her mystery novels, but in Mr. Osborne’s [two left] hands, we know the murderer very early on [argh].
Osborne describes Poirot more harshly than Christie would have: "An inveterate snob, he was already predisposed in Sir Claud’s favour by virtue of his title. If he were to be found in Who’s Who, a volume in which the details of Poirot’s own career could also be discovered, then perhaps this Sir Claud was someone with a valid claim on his, Hercule Poirot’s, time and attention." Ingenerous, stuffy. Poirot could be a tad arrogant, but this is harsh.
When Osborne gets a chance to try his hand at Poirot dialogue, he has him more British than Belgian: "I do beg your pardon, my dear George."
[augh!]
The whole first chapter Osborne wrote, and almost every sentence reveals he is NOT Christie. The prose doesn’t match the style or tone of Christie at all. How could a Christie critic, purporting to really understand Christie, write that chapter?! If you are in fact a writer, why not transform the text and make it your own, as so many have done, turning Austen novels, for instance, into their own art, with inventive hooks and descriptions and turns of plot. What would Christie herself do in writing a novelization? Oh, but then she didn’t do that. And she could have, and would have done it well, rethinking Austen, for instance. But she didn’t. Part of the reason it doesn’t work as well as it might is that it is an early, less accomplished play by a writer that was generally a better novelist than a playwright. It’s not a bad play, but when you are going to write a novelization of an okay play, you should take license to do something interesting with it, make it new.
Black Coffee is fan fiction, and as with 50 Shades of Grey as fan fiction of Twilight, it worked out for the author, and for the Christie franchise. I like fan fiction and very much support it as a creative enterprise, it’s creative reading using writing in response. And long time Christie fans welcomed a new “Christie” book, even knowing it was not written by her. Or all written by her. And the book sold well, blessed as it was as “the first Christie novel in 20 years,” so many many Christie fans the world over had to have it. In 1998 had I been a Christie fan, I would have bought it, probably. So it sold so many copies that the estate sanctioned him to take two more minor plays and turn them into novels [that they claim are “written by Christie”] [liars!] and they also did pretty well. I mean, there’s enough Christie fans wanting a “new Christie novel” to assure lots of books sold, regardless of quality.
Just you wait to see my new Harry Potter novel, where Dumbledore arises from the dead . . . tottering, pale, seeking blood revenge. . .
All that said, I wanted to hate this book more than I did. I like the short (for Christie) title, the story is not bad, it’s middle-of-the-road Christie, it’s not the worst. The dialogue, which Christie actually wrote is, as it almost always is, good, of course. But almost nothing else is quite good enough. Almost everything Osborne writes as Christie’s ghost is pretty badly or at best blandly done. I hate it that it is part of the officially sanctioned catalogue of Christie’s Poirot novels, when she didn’t even write it; she just wrote the dialogue and stage directions [which Osborne actually KEEPS in places, lazily!]
Mathew Prichard, Christie’s grandson, wrote the afterword that makes it clear the family was going to officially sanction this (hack work) as a Christie novel, which he says “reads like authentic, vintage Christie. I feel sure Agatha would be proud to [rolling over in her grave with horror] have written it.” [Augh!!!]
I actually might have given this two stars, just because it has some decent Christie language in it and, that fan fiction support point, but in principle have to give it one star [liars!].
Christie didn’t like any of the dramatic adaptations of any of her novels, which led to her trying her hand at playwriting herself. The Mousetrap is one of the very, very successful ones, obviously, the longest running play of all time, well-written, great theatre; Black Coffee was one of Christie’s early attempts at drama that was pretty well received, as she was an author of international renown already by this time, but it is now seen as a very minor work in the Christie universe, though two films were actually made of the play. But I can’t imagine Christie herself actually adapting it to a novel just to [make more money for the Christie family] fill out her already substantial catalogue.
In this novel[ization], Hercule Poirot and his friend Hastings [hiss, such a dope!] visit the famous physicist Sir Claud Amory, who has devised the formula for a new type of explosive, but they learn that he has been poisoned (in his black coffee, hence the title) the night of their arrival. Christie famously makes it very difficult to find out who dunnit in her mystery novels, but in Mr. Osborne’s [two left] hands, we know the murderer very early on [argh].
Osborne describes Poirot more harshly than Christie would have: "An inveterate snob, he was already predisposed in Sir Claud’s favour by virtue of his title. If he were to be found in Who’s Who, a volume in which the details of Poirot’s own career could also be discovered, then perhaps this Sir Claud was someone with a valid claim on his, Hercule Poirot’s, time and attention." Ingenerous, stuffy. Poirot could be a tad arrogant, but this is harsh.
When Osborne gets a chance to try his hand at Poirot dialogue, he has him more British than Belgian: "I do beg your pardon, my dear George."
[augh!]
The whole first chapter Osborne wrote, and almost every sentence reveals he is NOT Christie. The prose doesn’t match the style or tone of Christie at all. How could a Christie critic, purporting to really understand Christie, write that chapter?! If you are in fact a writer, why not transform the text and make it your own, as so many have done, turning Austen novels, for instance, into their own art, with inventive hooks and descriptions and turns of plot. What would Christie herself do in writing a novelization? Oh, but then she didn’t do that. And she could have, and would have done it well, rethinking Austen, for instance. But she didn’t. Part of the reason it doesn’t work as well as it might is that it is an early, less accomplished play by a writer that was generally a better novelist than a playwright. It’s not a bad play, but when you are going to write a novelization of an okay play, you should take license to do something interesting with it, make it new.
Black Coffee is fan fiction, and as with 50 Shades of Grey as fan fiction of Twilight, it worked out for the author, and for the Christie franchise. I like fan fiction and very much support it as a creative enterprise, it’s creative reading using writing in response. And long time Christie fans welcomed a new “Christie” book, even knowing it was not written by her. Or all written by her. And the book sold well, blessed as it was as “the first Christie novel in 20 years,” so many many Christie fans the world over had to have it. In 1998 had I been a Christie fan, I would have bought it, probably. So it sold so many copies that the estate sanctioned him to take two more minor plays and turn them into novels [that they claim are “written by Christie”] [liars!] and they also did pretty well. I mean, there’s enough Christie fans wanting a “new Christie novel” to assure lots of books sold, regardless of quality.
Just you wait to see my new Harry Potter novel, where Dumbledore arises from the dead . . . tottering, pale, seeking blood revenge. . .
All that said, I wanted to hate this book more than I did. I like the short (for Christie) title, the story is not bad, it’s middle-of-the-road Christie, it’s not the worst. The dialogue, which Christie actually wrote is, as it almost always is, good, of course. But almost nothing else is quite good enough. Almost everything Osborne writes as Christie’s ghost is pretty badly or at best blandly done. I hate it that it is part of the officially sanctioned catalogue of Christie’s Poirot novels, when she didn’t even write it; she just wrote the dialogue and stage directions [which Osborne actually KEEPS in places, lazily!]
Mathew Prichard, Christie’s grandson, wrote the afterword that makes it clear the family was going to officially sanction this (hack work) as a Christie novel, which he says “reads like authentic, vintage Christie. I feel sure Agatha would be proud to [rolling over in her grave with horror] have written it.” [Augh!!!]
I actually might have given this two stars, just because it has some decent Christie language in it and, that fan fiction support point, but in principle have to give it one star [liars!].
July 18, 2024
[3.8⭐] 𝘾𝙖𝙛𝙚́ 𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙤 es una obra de teatro escrita por Agatha Christie y adaptada a novela por Charles Osborne. La historia se centra en Hércules Poirot, el famoso investigador belga, que recibe una llamada de Sir Claud Amory pidiéndole que venga a ayudarlo porque teme que alguien de su entorno le haga daño y le robe la fórmula de un poderoso explosivo que ha creado.
Recomiendo NO leer el resumen de la obra. Yo he redactado uno omitiendo los acontecimientos para no hacer spoilers.
Considero que la trama es MUY sólida y buena, lo cual es natural ya que Christie nunca decepciona. Nuevamente, vuelvo a enojarme y a odiar a Hastings por sus actitudes tan infantiles. Se supone que está casado y termina coqueteando con una sospechosa. Además, debía vigilar la escena del crimen y nunca abandonar la sala, pero se deja llevar por su calentura y abandona el lugar para coquetear en secreto con la muchacha. Las ganas que tengo de pegarle a este personaje aumentan a medida que leo más obras de Christie. Por suerte, está el increíble Poirot para arreglar los errores de Hastings y resolver el caso de la manera más inteligente y elocuente posible. También, como siempre, hay increíbles revelaciones que te dejarán con ganas de más.
Por otro lado, siento que Charles Osborne ha dejado mucho que desear a la hora de adaptar la obra a novela. Lo primero que tengo que criticar es el hecho de que está escrita en tercera persona omnisciente, mientras que las otras novelas de Poirot han sido escritas desde el punto de vista de Hastings, su amigo. Siento que se pierde un poco la esencia del mundo de Poirot al ser escrita por un narrador omnisciente, ya que este conoce los pensamientos de los personajes y ve cosas que los otros personajes no. Así que ha sido muy fácil para mí saber quién era el asesino (lo adiviné casi de inmediato, era mi primer sospechoso desde que sucedió el acontecimiento). La escritura de Osborne no es tan astuta como la de Christie, ya que, como he dicho, el lector puede dar con el sospechoso con mayor facilidad y, además, siento que le ha faltado más suspenso (porque este elemento no solo se crea con la atmósfera, sino que también se logra con la pluma del autor).
Finalmente, puedo decir que 𝘾𝙖𝙛𝙚́ 𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙤 tiene una trama muy buena y entretenida. Eso sí, no es ni de cerca la mejor obra de Christie, y el principal motivo de ello sería el hecho de que está escrita por Charles Osborne. Si no han leído una obra de Christie antes, NO comiencen con esta ya que se sentirán un poco decepcionados.
Recomiendo NO leer el resumen de la obra. Yo he redactado uno omitiendo los acontecimientos para no hacer spoilers.
Considero que la trama es MUY sólida y buena, lo cual es natural ya que Christie nunca decepciona. Nuevamente, vuelvo a enojarme y a odiar a Hastings por sus actitudes tan infantiles. Se supone que está casado y termina coqueteando con una sospechosa. Además, debía vigilar la escena del crimen y nunca abandonar la sala, pero se deja llevar por su calentura y abandona el lugar para coquetear en secreto con la muchacha. Las ganas que tengo de pegarle a este personaje aumentan a medida que leo más obras de Christie. Por suerte, está el increíble Poirot para arreglar los errores de Hastings y resolver el caso de la manera más inteligente y elocuente posible. También, como siempre, hay increíbles revelaciones que te dejarán con ganas de más.
Por otro lado, siento que Charles Osborne ha dejado mucho que desear a la hora de adaptar la obra a novela. Lo primero que tengo que criticar es el hecho de que está escrita en tercera persona omnisciente, mientras que las otras novelas de Poirot han sido escritas desde el punto de vista de Hastings, su amigo. Siento que se pierde un poco la esencia del mundo de Poirot al ser escrita por un narrador omnisciente, ya que este conoce los pensamientos de los personajes y ve cosas que los otros personajes no. Así que ha sido muy fácil para mí saber quién era el asesino (lo adiviné casi de inmediato, era mi primer sospechoso desde que sucedió el acontecimiento). La escritura de Osborne no es tan astuta como la de Christie, ya que, como he dicho, el lector puede dar con el sospechoso con mayor facilidad y, además, siento que le ha faltado más suspenso (porque este elemento no solo se crea con la atmósfera, sino que también se logra con la pluma del autor).
Finalmente, puedo decir que 𝘾𝙖𝙛𝙚́ 𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙤 tiene una trama muy buena y entretenida. Eso sí, no es ni de cerca la mejor obra de Christie, y el principal motivo de ello sería el hecho de que está escrita por Charles Osborne. Si no han leído una obra de Christie antes, NO comiencen con esta ya que se sentirán un poco decepcionados.
November 2, 2023
This wasn't a terrible read, but it's also not my favorite Poirot by any means. It reads like a play turned into a novel, which makes sense since that's exactly what it is. There were way too many drawn-out descriptions of the characters' movements and actions and locations, as if the author copied the play's stage directions verbatim.
The audiobook narrated by John Moffatt was really well done, though, as far as the voice acting goes. I didn't even notice that it was a different narrator than the previous Poirot novels I've listened to.
The mystery itself was satisfactory, but perhaps not as twisty or as clever as most of the others I've read by Dame Agatha. Red herrings abound, however.
By the way, “spills” are twists of paper that were used in place of matches back in the day, often kept in a vase. I had no idea and had to stop and look it up during the climax of the story (they play an important role). Maybe I'm the only one who didn't know this, but, anyway, there you go.
The audiobook narrated by John Moffatt was really well done, though, as far as the voice acting goes. I didn't even notice that it was a different narrator than the previous Poirot novels I've listened to.
The mystery itself was satisfactory, but perhaps not as twisty or as clever as most of the others I've read by Dame Agatha. Red herrings abound, however.
By the way, “spills” are twists of paper that were used in place of matches back in the day, often kept in a vase. I had no idea and had to stop and look it up during the climax of the story (they play an important role). Maybe I'm the only one who didn't know this, but, anyway, there you go.
April 28, 2022
In a twist within the Poirot series comes a novel that was once a stage play penned by Agatha Christie. Years later, Charles Osbourne took the play and turned it into this novel, one in which Hercule Poirot shows off his abilities once again. His wit is sharp and his deductive reasoning like no other. By the end, the reader will see once again how important using grey cells can be when finding a killer among a group of individuals with plenty of motive. A great story by Christie with Osbourne’s skill at putting it into novel format.
While enjoying a quite breakfast, Hercule Poirot is alerted to a phone message that he ought to return. It would seem that one Claude Amory requires Poirot’s assistance right way. Amory, an inventor who works with atomic energy, has had the plans to his latest creations nabbed before the Department of Defence could take possession. Amory wants Poirot to come and finger the thief in a subtle way, asking that the Belgian rush to his home.
While Amory has some guests at his home, the plans remain missing. Alerting the guests that Poirot is on the way, Amory offers everyone in his home the chance to come clean. He locks the door, turns off the lights and promises no blowback if the plans are returned. However, things take a turn when the light come back on and Claude Amory is dead from a dose of poison in his coffee.
Arriving with the body recently discovered, Poirot begins working all the leads, which includes a poisoned mug of coffee that Amory consumed. The killer is surely in the house and Poirot is ready to use his time to crack the case. Working alongside his old friend, Arthur Hastings, Poirot susses out the truth and collars a murderer at the same time. However, it will take patience and determination to piece it all together. A wonderful piece by Agatha Christie, with Charles Osbourne offering up the novelisation, that is sure to keep the grey cells buzzing.
I have come to enjoy many of the pieces that Agatha Christie presents in this series, tapping into unique approaches to murder and criminal activity. She has a knack for developing a stirring narrative with plot line, which Charles Osbourne has been able to replicate with ease. While the story is not complex, it is highly entertaining and kept me guessing throughout. I enjoyed this unique approach to storytelling and am eager to see how things progress with Poirot and all those he encounters.
Poirot remains sharp and edgy throughout this piece, pushing the boundaries of what the reader has come to expect from the Belgian detective. Working in the moment, Poirot seeks to use nuances and small clues to work towards the larger picture, all while he reminds those around him how great he is at his job. Without the need to worry about backstory, the reader can focus on enjoying Poirot in the moment and see how things progress from there.
There’s something about the approach used in this piece that has me highly intrigued. I am not sure if it is Christie’s turning a Poirot mystery into a play or Osbourne’s seamless ability to make it another novel, but I was hooked throughout the reading experience. A great narrative worked well to keep the reader on track throughout the piece and allowed for some wonderful plot twists. I enjoyed how the story moved around a number of key characters, including the return of Captain Arthur Hastings to keep things fresh. While Poirot is a beast like no other, it is his slow and methodical nature that keeps things highly entertaining for all those involved in the mystery. Let’s see what else is to come in this series!
Kudos, Dame Christie and Mr. Osbourne, for another winner. I am eager to see how the series progresses and how past novels might loosely tie in to what is to come.
Love/hate the review? An ever-growing collection of others appears at:
http://pecheyponderings.wordpress.com/
While enjoying a quite breakfast, Hercule Poirot is alerted to a phone message that he ought to return. It would seem that one Claude Amory requires Poirot’s assistance right way. Amory, an inventor who works with atomic energy, has had the plans to his latest creations nabbed before the Department of Defence could take possession. Amory wants Poirot to come and finger the thief in a subtle way, asking that the Belgian rush to his home.
While Amory has some guests at his home, the plans remain missing. Alerting the guests that Poirot is on the way, Amory offers everyone in his home the chance to come clean. He locks the door, turns off the lights and promises no blowback if the plans are returned. However, things take a turn when the light come back on and Claude Amory is dead from a dose of poison in his coffee.
Arriving with the body recently discovered, Poirot begins working all the leads, which includes a poisoned mug of coffee that Amory consumed. The killer is surely in the house and Poirot is ready to use his time to crack the case. Working alongside his old friend, Arthur Hastings, Poirot susses out the truth and collars a murderer at the same time. However, it will take patience and determination to piece it all together. A wonderful piece by Agatha Christie, with Charles Osbourne offering up the novelisation, that is sure to keep the grey cells buzzing.
I have come to enjoy many of the pieces that Agatha Christie presents in this series, tapping into unique approaches to murder and criminal activity. She has a knack for developing a stirring narrative with plot line, which Charles Osbourne has been able to replicate with ease. While the story is not complex, it is highly entertaining and kept me guessing throughout. I enjoyed this unique approach to storytelling and am eager to see how things progress with Poirot and all those he encounters.
Poirot remains sharp and edgy throughout this piece, pushing the boundaries of what the reader has come to expect from the Belgian detective. Working in the moment, Poirot seeks to use nuances and small clues to work towards the larger picture, all while he reminds those around him how great he is at his job. Without the need to worry about backstory, the reader can focus on enjoying Poirot in the moment and see how things progress from there.
There’s something about the approach used in this piece that has me highly intrigued. I am not sure if it is Christie’s turning a Poirot mystery into a play or Osbourne’s seamless ability to make it another novel, but I was hooked throughout the reading experience. A great narrative worked well to keep the reader on track throughout the piece and allowed for some wonderful plot twists. I enjoyed how the story moved around a number of key characters, including the return of Captain Arthur Hastings to keep things fresh. While Poirot is a beast like no other, it is his slow and methodical nature that keeps things highly entertaining for all those involved in the mystery. Let’s see what else is to come in this series!
Kudos, Dame Christie and Mr. Osbourne, for another winner. I am eager to see how the series progresses and how past novels might loosely tie in to what is to come.
Love/hate the review? An ever-growing collection of others appears at:
http://pecheyponderings.wordpress.com/
November 19, 2025
As I said in one of my status updates on this book, the librarian who issued this book to me is a Christie collector & warned me that she hadn't been able to finish this one.
She gave the copy I was borrowing a most unenthused glance & said she supposed she should get back to it at some stage.
This book is an adaptation of an early play written by Christie & Charles Osborne is an actor who appeared in a 1956 production of it. Unfortunately he isn't able to breathe any life into it at all.
Sounds like a cross between stage directions & casting guidelines, doesn't it?
I've tried to read this twice & fallen asleep both times.
DNF at 22%
She gave the copy I was borrowing a most unenthused glance & said she supposed she should get back to it at some stage.
This book is an adaptation of an early play written by Christie & Charles Osborne is an actor who appeared in a 1956 production of it. Unfortunately he isn't able to breathe any life into it at all.
Richard Armory closed the door and approached the two women. A conventionally handsome young Englishman of about thirty with sandy hair, he was of medium height with a somewhat thick-set, muscular figure.
Sounds like a cross between stage directions & casting guidelines, doesn't it?
I've tried to read this twice & fallen asleep both times.
DNF at 22%
March 6, 2017
"‘George,’ he called, ‘please take my heavy tweed suit and my dinner jacket and trousers to the cleaners. I must have them back by Friday, as I am going to the Country for the Weekend.’ He made it sound like the Steppes of Central Asia and for a lifetime."
Tweed? No, I cannot....no to Poirot in tweeds.
I am all in favour of fan fiction, especially when it is done well. Unfortunately, Black Coffee fell flat on so many counts.
What is, in my opinion, even worse is that the book was authorised, even commissioned, by Christie's estate. Subsequently it was published as part of the official Agatha Christie catalogue. This is just plain wrong.
Christie did write the play Black Coffee in 1929 to experiment with play-writing herself after stage adaptations of her previous books failed to impress her. However, I guess she must have had her reasons for not developing this particular story into a full novel - although many, many elements in the story do appear in later stories.
Or maybe Charles Osborne would just regurgitate the tricks and techniques of Dame Agatha's better known works to cover his lack of imagination? After all, he did write the book some 20 years after Christie's death.
My dismay at Agatha Christie Ltd and the publishers for allowing this book to be published as part of the official series is not, however, solely because it is so obvious that it was a financial decision to milk the franchise.
I'm disliking that this book should be the best available work of fan fiction and should be worthy of publication - especially when readers may pick this up and actually think it was written by Christie.
The obvious lack in sincerity in Osborne's portrayal of the characters is downright upsetting. So, not only does he make Poirot wear tweeds, but he also turns him into something that he is not. For all of Poirot's eccentricities, the Poirot Christie had created may have had high standards but he has always had some empathy with other people.
"An inveterate snob, he was already predisposed in Sir Claud’s favour by virtue of his title. If he were to be found in Who’s Who, a volume in which the details of Poirot’s own career could also be discovered, then perhaps this Sir Claud was someone with a valid claim on his, Hercule Poirot’s, time and attention."
No. Just, no.
Tweed? No, I cannot....no to Poirot in tweeds.
I am all in favour of fan fiction, especially when it is done well. Unfortunately, Black Coffee fell flat on so many counts.
What is, in my opinion, even worse is that the book was authorised, even commissioned, by Christie's estate. Subsequently it was published as part of the official Agatha Christie catalogue. This is just plain wrong.
Christie did write the play Black Coffee in 1929 to experiment with play-writing herself after stage adaptations of her previous books failed to impress her. However, I guess she must have had her reasons for not developing this particular story into a full novel - although many, many elements in the story do appear in later stories.
Or maybe Charles Osborne would just regurgitate the tricks and techniques of Dame Agatha's better known works to cover his lack of imagination? After all, he did write the book some 20 years after Christie's death.
My dismay at Agatha Christie Ltd and the publishers for allowing this book to be published as part of the official series is not, however, solely because it is so obvious that it was a financial decision to milk the franchise.
I'm disliking that this book should be the best available work of fan fiction and should be worthy of publication - especially when readers may pick this up and actually think it was written by Christie.
The obvious lack in sincerity in Osborne's portrayal of the characters is downright upsetting. So, not only does he make Poirot wear tweeds, but he also turns him into something that he is not. For all of Poirot's eccentricities, the Poirot Christie had created may have had high standards but he has always had some empathy with other people.
"An inveterate snob, he was already predisposed in Sir Claud’s favour by virtue of his title. If he were to be found in Who’s Who, a volume in which the details of Poirot’s own career could also be discovered, then perhaps this Sir Claud was someone with a valid claim on his, Hercule Poirot’s, time and attention."
No. Just, no.
September 4, 2020
Text+ audiobook. Synopsis: "Sir Claud Amory's formula for a powerful new explosive has been stolen, presumably by a member of his large household. Sir Claud assembles his suspects in the library and locks the door, instructing them that the when the lights go out, the formula must be replaced on the table -- and no questions will be asked. But when the lights come on, Sir Claud is dead. Now Hercule Poirot, assisted by Captain Hastings and Inspector Japp, must unravel a tangle of family feuds, old flames, and suspicious foreigners to find the killer and prevent a global catastrophe."
January 17, 2026
„Черно кафе“ е много силна пиеса на Агата Кристи! Еркюл Поаро е поканен от известен учен, за да открие открадната формула за нов експлозив. Когато детективът и Хейстингс пристигат в неговата къща, ученият вече е убит, а те се захващат с разследването...
„— Ех, Поаро — засмя се той. — Какъв сте подреден!
— Сега не е ли по-добре? — попита Поаро, като оглеждаше полицата на камината, наклонил леко глава встрани.
Хейстингс изсумтя.
— И преди не ми се виждаше зле.
— Внимавайте! — рече Поаро и размаха укорително пръст срещу него. — Симетрията е всичко! Навсякъде трябва да има симетрия и ред, особено в малките сиви мозъчни клетки — и докато говореше, той се потупа по главата.“
„— Ех, Поаро — засмя се той. — Какъв сте подреден!
— Сега не е ли по-добре? — попита Поаро, като оглеждаше полицата на камината, наклонил леко глава встрани.
Хейстингс изсумтя.
— И преди не ми се виждаше зле.
— Внимавайте! — рече Поаро и размаха укорително пръст срещу него. — Симетрията е всичко! Навсякъде трябва да има симетрия и ред, особено в малките сиви мозъчни клетки — и докато говореше, той се потупа по главата.“
February 7, 2019
It shows that this was written by Agatha Christie as a play but then adapted into a novel by another author....so not a bad book but very disappointing if you have read any other Agatha Christie stories.
August 6, 2018
This addition to the Poirot series is really the novelisation of a 1930’s play, published in 1998 and adapted by Charles Osborne.
Sir Claud Amory is a reclusive and rich scientist, who has currently devised a formula for a new explosive. He now fears one of his household is trying to steal the formula and asks Poirot to come and stay and then return to London and give it to the ministry. He catches Poirot at a time when the detective is feeling bored and also at a time when Hastings is visiting London from Argentina. As such, Poirot happily telephones the Captain and the two set off for the country.
By the time Poirot arrives, the scientist is dead – poisoned – and the formula missing. It is up to Poirot to make sense of events and question all the members of the household and guest, Dr Carelli. There are, of course, many motives and suspects. These include the scientist’s son, who has money problems, his young, Italian wife, Lucia, who has a shady past and the guest, of whom, little is known.
Although this book includes Hastings and Japp, both have only minor parts. Hastings is even more foolish than usual and Japp has virtually a bit part. Although it is not really Osborne’s fault, the fact this is adapted from a play leads to him having to do lots of ‘scene setting,’ involving room layouts, facial expressions and dialogue. Doors are left open, Lucia ‘smouldered,’ and lights go off. As a Poirot novel, this lacks charm and is quite dis-jointed. However, ‘Papa Poirot,’ does manage to do some match-making, and, of course, solve the case.
Sir Claud Amory is a reclusive and rich scientist, who has currently devised a formula for a new explosive. He now fears one of his household is trying to steal the formula and asks Poirot to come and stay and then return to London and give it to the ministry. He catches Poirot at a time when the detective is feeling bored and also at a time when Hastings is visiting London from Argentina. As such, Poirot happily telephones the Captain and the two set off for the country.
By the time Poirot arrives, the scientist is dead – poisoned – and the formula missing. It is up to Poirot to make sense of events and question all the members of the household and guest, Dr Carelli. There are, of course, many motives and suspects. These include the scientist’s son, who has money problems, his young, Italian wife, Lucia, who has a shady past and the guest, of whom, little is known.
Although this book includes Hastings and Japp, both have only minor parts. Hastings is even more foolish than usual and Japp has virtually a bit part. Although it is not really Osborne’s fault, the fact this is adapted from a play leads to him having to do lots of ‘scene setting,’ involving room layouts, facial expressions and dialogue. Doors are left open, Lucia ‘smouldered,’ and lights go off. As a Poirot novel, this lacks charm and is quite dis-jointed. However, ‘Papa Poirot,’ does manage to do some match-making, and, of course, solve the case.
March 4, 2024
Me ha gustado bastante, en la línea del mejor Poirot, y eso que ya está retirado, aquí están los clásicos Japp y Hastings que también aparecen.
La resolución ha sido muy buena, y como siempre, fallé, ni por asomo me acerqué.
Valoración: 7.5/10
Sinopsis: Sir Claud Amory ha descubierto la fórmula de un nuevo y poderoso explosivo, que es robada por alguno de los numerosos huéspedes y familiares hospedados en su casa. Después de encerrar a todo el mundo en la biblioteca, sir Claud apaga la luz para permitir al ladrón devolver el botín, sin acusar a nadie. Pero, al encenderse la luz, sir Claud yace muerto, y será tarea de Hercules Poirot el desentrañar la red de disputas familiares, viejas querellas y extraños sospechosos para encontrar al asesino y prevenir una catástrofe mayor.
La obra de teatro «Café Negro» fue estrenada inicialmente en 1930. Se trata de la primera pieza que Agatha Christie escribió para el teatro, pieza que lanzó a Agatha en una exitosa segunda carrera como dramaturga, y de la que Charles Osborne hizo esta interesante novelización en 1998.
La resolución ha sido muy buena, y como siempre, fallé, ni por asomo me acerqué.
Valoración: 7.5/10
Sinopsis: Sir Claud Amory ha descubierto la fórmula de un nuevo y poderoso explosivo, que es robada por alguno de los numerosos huéspedes y familiares hospedados en su casa. Después de encerrar a todo el mundo en la biblioteca, sir Claud apaga la luz para permitir al ladrón devolver el botín, sin acusar a nadie. Pero, al encenderse la luz, sir Claud yace muerto, y será tarea de Hercules Poirot el desentrañar la red de disputas familiares, viejas querellas y extraños sospechosos para encontrar al asesino y prevenir una catástrofe mayor.
La obra de teatro «Café Negro» fue estrenada inicialmente en 1930. Se trata de la primera pieza que Agatha Christie escribió para el teatro, pieza que lanzó a Agatha en una exitosa segunda carrera como dramaturga, y de la que Charles Osborne hizo esta interesante novelización en 1998.
March 14, 2022
4 Stars for Black Coffee: Hercule Poirot 7.5 (audiobook) by Agatha Christie adapted into novel by Charles Osbourne read by John Moffatt.
Agatha Christie originally wrote this story to be performed on stage. I tried to keep that in mind while I was listening. I tried to picture the actors on stage. That was a fun perspective to imagine. Since this story revolves around one room it would be easy for a theater company to put on. I hope to get to see it performed someday.
Agatha Christie originally wrote this story to be performed on stage. I tried to keep that in mind while I was listening. I tried to picture the actors on stage. That was a fun perspective to imagine. Since this story revolves around one room it would be easy for a theater company to put on. I hope to get to see it performed someday.
March 31, 2017
As a Poirot novel, this one felt very weak in comparison to many others. Maybe, because it was an adaption from a play. The characters are forgettable and there are very few twists. You could even guess the ending. Strictly for Poirot fans.
May 21, 2021
Kısa ama çok keyifliydi.🤭 Bu aralar Agatha ile yola devam ediyoruz bakalım… 💁🏼♀️
November 3, 2019
In 1930, Black Coffee was an Agatha Christie play production that Australian writer Charles Osborne would make into a novelization in 1998. It brings Hercule Poirot and Captain Hastings to the estate of Sir Claud Armory, a man working on a secret scientific formula for the British government. In true Christie fashion, the pair arrive just as Sir Claud has been poisioned and every person in the mansion is accused of the crime.
I tell you, Hastings, what we have here is drama! Not a simple, sordid crime, but drama. Poignant, human drama!
I noticed as I was adding the book to my "read" shelf that a fair number of my fellow reviewers didn't like this one, but I have to say that I quite enjoyed it and did feel that Osborne had followed the Christie formula as much as he could. There are the stereotypes in regards to "foreigners", Hastings weakness for beautiful women, and Poirot's knack of getting the suspects to open up to him. I am actually quite pleased that I stumbled upon it at the secondhand bookstore this summer.
Goodreads review 03/11/19
I tell you, Hastings, what we have here is drama! Not a simple, sordid crime, but drama. Poignant, human drama!
I noticed as I was adding the book to my "read" shelf that a fair number of my fellow reviewers didn't like this one, but I have to say that I quite enjoyed it and did feel that Osborne had followed the Christie formula as much as he could. There are the stereotypes in regards to "foreigners", Hastings weakness for beautiful women, and Poirot's knack of getting the suspects to open up to him. I am actually quite pleased that I stumbled upon it at the secondhand bookstore this summer.
Goodreads review 03/11/19
Read
May 16, 2023[Charles Osborne]Sugeriu à Agatha Christie Limited (que detém os direitos de autor das suas obras) que, vinte anos depois da morte da autora, seria maravilhoso dar ao mundo um novo romance policial de Agatha Christie. Concordámos de forma entusiástica, e o resultado é este mistério de Hercule Poirot, que para mim se lê como uma obra autêntica e clássica de Christie. Tenho a certeza de que Agatha teria sentido orgulho em escrevê-lo.
Se Mathew Pritchard me tivesse perguntado eu dir-lhe-ia que não, este mistério de Hercule Poirot não se lê como uma obra autêntica e clássica de Christie (quanto ao orgulho dela não posso opinar), mas, ainda assim, não é, na sua totalidade, uma má adaptação. Ao contrário dos "novos" mistérios de Poirot, por Sophie Hanna, em que o detetive surge transfigurado em qualquer coisa que é posta a ridículo e desprezada pelos demais, em Café Negro, Osborne mantém a dignidade e algum do espírito de Poirot intacto, embora lhe falte aquele calor que Agatha sempre empresta aos seus livros.
A peça original terá estreado em 1930, sendo bem recebida, e 26 anos mais tarde (excelente indicador do seu sucesso), Osborne terá desempenhado nela um papel de relevo, partindo daí o seu interesse em adaptar o drama. Não desfazendo no seu empenho e boa vontade, no entanto, tanto o ambiente como as indicações cénicas que o autor tenta adaptar da peça homónima não se coadunam com o romance: toda a trama está devidamente encenada para criar no espectador ilusão movendo o foco de uma para outra personagem tendo em conta o espaço que cada uma ocupa em palco (toda a peça decorre dentro de uma única sala e esse cenário é fulcral para a resolução do mistério) e isso não se traduz de forma pacífica no produto final.
No geral, a intriga é toda ela Agatha Christie, no particular é que algumas coisas falham: existe algum esforço para transmitir o caráter das três personagens centrais da série (Poirot, Hastings e Japp), mas escapam pequeninos detalhes no espírito e torna-se difícil visualizá-los por culpa da dissemelhança que daí resulta; a tentativa de transformar a encenação ao pé da letra peca por forçada (Poirot chega a ter no romance uma fala que eu aposto ser retirada ipsis verbis da peça, e que, claro, não resulta, que diz Seria útil, Hastings, se pudesse tomar nota, mental entenda-se, de onde todos escolheram sentar-se. Não é preciso muito para perceber que esta piscadela de olho se dirige ao espectador de um teatro e não ao leitor de um livro); e nem toda a boa vontade em oferecer um mapa para a cena do crime (literalmente, o desenho da sala) resolve as dificuldades dos posicionamentos, entradas e saídas que deverão resultar de forma maravilhosa em palco, mas que aqui tornam a trama confusa.
Enfim, os moldes desta peça de Agatha também escapam um pouco aos moldes em que escrevia a série protagonizada por Poirot - não existe tanta grandiloquência e suspense no desfecho e, se tivesse tido oportunidade de confrontar a adaptação com o original, talvez chegasse à conclusão de que Agatha experimenta qualquer coisa de diferente com esta obra. Infelizmente, não só não temos uma tradução da sua dramaturgia como não tenho nenhum exemplar da peça na sua língua original pelo que, e ficando pela versão de Osborne, acabo por me sentir ligeiramente defraudada. Não porque seja um excesso aquilo que o autor intenta, mas, se calhar, pela falta de uma certa ousadia e capacidade de se afirmar acabando por tentar vender uma obra autêntica e clássica de Christie que não transmite nem a voz da autora nem a sua.
Se Mathew Pritchard me tivesse perguntado eu dir-lhe-ia que não, este mistério de Hercule Poirot não se lê como uma obra autêntica e clássica de Christie (quanto ao orgulho dela não posso opinar), mas, ainda assim, não é, na sua totalidade, uma má adaptação. Ao contrário dos "novos" mistérios de Poirot, por Sophie Hanna, em que o detetive surge transfigurado em qualquer coisa que é posta a ridículo e desprezada pelos demais, em Café Negro, Osborne mantém a dignidade e algum do espírito de Poirot intacto, embora lhe falte aquele calor que Agatha sempre empresta aos seus livros.
A peça original terá estreado em 1930, sendo bem recebida, e 26 anos mais tarde (excelente indicador do seu sucesso), Osborne terá desempenhado nela um papel de relevo, partindo daí o seu interesse em adaptar o drama. Não desfazendo no seu empenho e boa vontade, no entanto, tanto o ambiente como as indicações cénicas que o autor tenta adaptar da peça homónima não se coadunam com o romance: toda a trama está devidamente encenada para criar no espectador ilusão movendo o foco de uma para outra personagem tendo em conta o espaço que cada uma ocupa em palco (toda a peça decorre dentro de uma única sala e esse cenário é fulcral para a resolução do mistério) e isso não se traduz de forma pacífica no produto final.
No geral, a intriga é toda ela Agatha Christie, no particular é que algumas coisas falham: existe algum esforço para transmitir o caráter das três personagens centrais da série (Poirot, Hastings e Japp), mas escapam pequeninos detalhes no espírito e torna-se difícil visualizá-los por culpa da dissemelhança que daí resulta; a tentativa de transformar a encenação ao pé da letra peca por forçada (Poirot chega a ter no romance uma fala que eu aposto ser retirada ipsis verbis da peça, e que, claro, não resulta, que diz Seria útil, Hastings, se pudesse tomar nota, mental entenda-se, de onde todos escolheram sentar-se. Não é preciso muito para perceber que esta piscadela de olho se dirige ao espectador de um teatro e não ao leitor de um livro); e nem toda a boa vontade em oferecer um mapa para a cena do crime (literalmente, o desenho da sala) resolve as dificuldades dos posicionamentos, entradas e saídas que deverão resultar de forma maravilhosa em palco, mas que aqui tornam a trama confusa.
Enfim, os moldes desta peça de Agatha também escapam um pouco aos moldes em que escrevia a série protagonizada por Poirot - não existe tanta grandiloquência e suspense no desfecho e, se tivesse tido oportunidade de confrontar a adaptação com o original, talvez chegasse à conclusão de que Agatha experimenta qualquer coisa de diferente com esta obra. Infelizmente, não só não temos uma tradução da sua dramaturgia como não tenho nenhum exemplar da peça na sua língua original pelo que, e ficando pela versão de Osborne, acabo por me sentir ligeiramente defraudada. Não porque seja um excesso aquilo que o autor intenta, mas, se calhar, pela falta de uma certa ousadia e capacidade de se afirmar acabando por tentar vender uma obra autêntica e clássica de Christie que não transmite nem a voz da autora nem a sua.
December 9, 2017
At first I was really interested in this book because it wasn't really written by Agatha, like at all. Black Coffee is more like a play adaptation than anything and the only thing you're going to get from Agatha Christie is her name on the cover. Why? Because this book is by Charles Osborne.
Now I will admit that I read other people's review before I wrote my own because I honestly had no idea how to write this one. It's very hard since it wasn't written by Agatha (who's writing I've fallen in love with) but it's apart of the Hercule Poirot Series. I'm probably not making sense at all to anyone who hasn't touched a book within this series but just know it was hard to write this review.
Okay, so, I didn't really love this book but I also didn't end up fucking hating it either. It was just okay - more like meh. The fact is that this book didn't really do anything for me. It was boring and really predictable. It's about how Poirot gets called to a murder case and finds out something very valuable has been stolen as well. Kind of like clue.. but not really.
Again, I'm probably making zero sense here so I apologize for this sort of crappy review. But, idk, I liked the characters because they didn't change that much from the last book (Poirot and Hastings I mean) but other than that it was just meh. I kind of wish I skipped this book and went onto the next one in this series. I'm just glad that I'm done with this book.
Now I will admit that I read other people's review before I wrote my own because I honestly had no idea how to write this one. It's very hard since it wasn't written by Agatha (who's writing I've fallen in love with) but it's apart of the Hercule Poirot Series. I'm probably not making sense at all to anyone who hasn't touched a book within this series but just know it was hard to write this review.
Okay, so, I didn't really love this book but I also didn't end up fucking hating it either. It was just okay - more like meh. The fact is that this book didn't really do anything for me. It was boring and really predictable. It's about how Poirot gets called to a murder case and finds out something very valuable has been stolen as well. Kind of like clue.. but not really.
Again, I'm probably making zero sense here so I apologize for this sort of crappy review. But, idk, I liked the characters because they didn't change that much from the last book (Poirot and Hastings I mean) but other than that it was just meh. I kind of wish I skipped this book and went onto the next one in this series. I'm just glad that I'm done with this book.
August 23, 2017
Отново Агата Кристи и отново случай, който гениалният детектив Еркюл Поаро поема.
Този път жертвата беше известен учен, а причината за убийството му - скъпа и опасна химична формула, способна да причини множество щети. Заподозрените, в случая - роднините на жертвата и най-приближените му приятели, остават под ключ в дома му, докато Поаро и неговият добър приятел Хейстингс се заемат и с най-дребните подробности около убийството. Стилът, както винаги бе завладяващ, а Агата Кристи отново поднасе интригуващи обрати и не по-малко интересни заподозрени.
Този път жертвата беше известен учен, а причината за убийството му - скъпа и опасна химична формула, способна да причини множество щети. Заподозрените, в случая - роднините на жертвата и най-приближените му приятели, остават под ключ в дома му, докато Поаро и неговият добър приятел Хейстингс се заемат и с най-дребните подробности около убийството. Стилът, както винаги бе завладяващ, а Агата Кристи отново поднасе интригуващи обрати и не по-малко интересни заподозрени.
May 27, 2020
The Hercule Poirot, unnumbered adapted mystery was originally written by Agatha Christie as a play. A 'locked room' scenario sees the murder of a scientist, alongside the theft of the details of a valuable invention. Poirot is reunite with with both Hastings and Inspector Yapp for this case. Classic Christie. 6 out of 12.
August 28, 2017
A play featuring Hercule Poirot turned into a novel by Charles Osborne. Well, all I can say is, he shouldn't have.
September 13, 2015
I picked up this book with low expectations. In fact, if I wasn't such an awful completist I would have skipped this little outlier altogether. Being merely an adaptation of Agatha Christie's foray into playwriting, it lacks the Dame's impeccable style. It's too heavy on dialogue, and sometimes is too deceptively easy to figure out. I'm saying "deceptively" because after all it is still Christie's storyline. Surprisingly, it was an enjoyable light read. Perhaps not on the level of her average work, and certainly not even close to her defining volumes, but Black Coffee cannot be called a waste of time. I don't know what took me so long to finally read it.
February 22, 2019
Pozorisna predtava Agate Kristi pretocena u roman od strane Carlsa Ozborna.
Vidim da ima puno zalbi da se knige na cita kao da je pislala Agata, da nije dovoljno dobra itd. E sada moguce da je do prevoda ali meni licno nista nije bolo oci i da mi je neo rekao da je to sama spisateljica napisalapoverovao bi mu.
Sem toga ovo je manje vise klasicna Agata prica i meni je bila zabavna za citanje i prepoucio bi dalje. U detalje necu ulaziti da ne kvarimo misteriju.
Cheers
Vidim da ima puno zalbi da se knige na cita kao da je pislala Agata, da nije dovoljno dobra itd. E sada moguce da je do prevoda ali meni licno nista nije bolo oci i da mi je neo rekao da je to sama spisateljica napisalapoverovao bi mu.
Sem toga ovo je manje vise klasicna Agata prica i meni je bila zabavna za citanje i prepoucio bi dalje. U detalje necu ulaziti da ne kvarimo misteriju.
Cheers
September 12, 2015
I am a huge fan of Agatha Christie and have read virtually everything she ever wrote so I felt drawn to this book. Black Coffee was written as a play but Agatha Christie never actually turned it into a novel for whatever reason. This book was written as a novel several years after her death by Charles Osborne and I think it is plain to see. Although the plot is the same the Christie polish is missing.
This book does not deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as any of Agatha Christie's actual novels and I think that it is a bit misleading to identify this adaptation of her play as her novel, she was far better than that.
This book does not deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as any of Agatha Christie's actual novels and I think that it is a bit misleading to identify this adaptation of her play as her novel, she was far better than that.
November 20, 2020
Esta es la única novela policiaca de Agatha Christie que aún no había leido, me ha gustado reencontrarme con Hercules Poirot y Hasting sin saber por donde iba a ir mi querida Agatha con respecto a la trama y tengo que admitir que en este caso he estado totalmente a oscuras en la resolución del caso.
La trama comienza cuando sir Claud Amory un importante científico se pone en contacto con Poirot porque cree que un miembro de su familia le va a robar la formula de su invento, pero antes de que Poirot llegue después de una cena familiar, Amory aparece muerto...
Como siempre Agatha ha conseguido mantenerme intrigada de principio a fin, con una lectura ágil que he terminado casi sin darme cuenta y unos personajes interesantes.
La trama comienza cuando sir Claud Amory un importante científico se pone en contacto con Poirot porque cree que un miembro de su familia le va a robar la formula de su invento, pero antes de que Poirot llegue después de una cena familiar, Amory aparece muerto...
Como siempre Agatha ha conseguido mantenerme intrigada de principio a fin, con una lectura ágil que he terminado casi sin darme cuenta y unos personajes interesantes.
July 16, 2025
I’ve got mixed feelings on this play adapted novel because truly this is the first time I closed one of her books in which I didn’t feel her soul and the satisfaction that comes with the final pages to come. Honestly I believe I had to do both with Agatha herself but sadly with its adaptation by a solely different author, that being said it wasn’t anything supremely terrible either. It just felt a little too easy to follow, a little less full of flair and flourish, and personally a bit too little Poirot. As a completionist or just a casual reader I could see myself recommending this book but definitely skippable and not completely necessary of a read compared to the others that have come before it so far. That cast though, great, and I always love seeing detective Jap.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 2,298 reviews