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But the following morning, a touch annoyed that I could not get the story straight, consulted Wikipedia, which helped a bit with a synopsis of the story. Was then moved to buy a copy of the story and despite the recent acquisition of a Kindle, preferred to buy a first edition rather than an e-version. A first edition from the crime club, cheaply produced but serviceable. Dust cover missing and spine almost detached. Whereas the first edition of  'Les Anneaux de Bicêtre' (see November 16th) was a similarly cheaply produced book but it still had its lurid dust cover, which made it a much more attractive proposition for the bookshelf. I am clearly starting to see the point of such things.

Story then read. I learned that that title of this story was taken from a nursery rhyme, a device Christie uses elsewhere, but I still had trouble getting the whole picture and was reduced to powerpoint with the results above. But this worked; I now have a grip on the story. Boxes for all the main characters, a bit of colour coding and layout and all becomes clear - although I have to say that the passage through paint has not done the image much good. I am now wondering if the powerpoint is where the author starts. That is the idea, which one then proceeds to wrap up with all kinds of confusing but entertaining detail. Some evidence in favour of this notion from the book itself, in which Christie has the conceit of introducing a middle aged lady writer of detective novels as an adjunct to Poirot, a device which enables her to include a modest amount of material about the craft and life of a successful writer of detective novels, material which included the trials and tribulations of a writer who has to suffer adaptation for the stage. Material which survives into this television adaptation, which although now masked by the book, I thought pretty fair to both the letter and the spirit. Just the odd simplification here and there.

I imagine that inclusion of such a diagram with the book would be a bad thing, even if one left out the answer. A good part of the fun is trying to see the wood for the trees, fun which would vanish if one was given a picture of the wood on a plate.

Successful she was, and a good spinner of stories, but unpretentious. As far as I can tell she never had the literary or other pretensions of Simenon, who in other ways was a similar phenonomen. To me, compared with Simenon, her interest is the puzzle, her tone seems coarse, she plays to the social snobbery of much of her audience and she has little interest in character beyond the common stereotypes - and I do think that these differences go beyond my uncertain grasp of French. This despite the fact that my copy reproduces a glowing reference from one Clement Atlee.

Checking the index of my recent biography of Simenon, I find no entry for Christie. I wonder if they ever met? Once he spoke English - I have no idea whether Christie spoke French - they must have had much tradecraft in common which they could talk about. But perhaps Simenon would not have cared to talk to a lady writer as an equal: ladies were there to serve him, not to compete with him, certainly not in his own chosen sphere.