Come Tell Me How You Live
Review of the novel Come Tell Me How You Live by Agatha Christie.
Published by William Collins & Co Ltd in November 1946 (UK)
Cost: £3.99 (UK) 1990
ISBN: 0-00-637594-4 (Paperback Edition - 204 pages – starts on page 17)
Dedication: To my husband, Max Mallowan; to the Colonel, Bumps, Mac and Guilford, this meandering chronicle is affectionately dedicated.
Agatha Christie wrote a forward to this book and it finishes with a paragraph explaining its content.
A final warning, so that there will be no disappointment. This is not a profound book – it will give you no interesting sidelights on archaeology, there will be no beautiful descriptions of scenery, no treating of economic problems, no reflections, no history.
It is in fact, small beer – a very little book, full of everyday doings and happenings.
This book was written between 1942 and 1945, when alone in London and her husband, Max Mallowan, was posted to Egypt with the British Council during WW2. Agatha often found herself being asked about her trips to Syria, individuals asking: 'How do you live?' She says to herself, 'Most people. probably, do not want to know. It is just the small change of conversation, but there are, now and then, one or two people who are really interested.'
The book describes some of the events during archaeological excavations undertaken by Max Mallowan in Syria between 1934 and 1938.
Christie writes about the travelling and living experiences during their time in Syria, but at no time does she define any specific year, rather it is either The Spring or The Autumn. She captures the humour of the moment, written as twelve chapters, regardless if it involves her British friends or the Asiatic individuals they employ to help them while the excavations continue. Christie and her publisher were surprised about the success the book received and both were to reflect on the fact that the length of the book was governed by the amount of paper she could get her hands on at the time of writing. Just inside of the book's covers is a map of Syria and Mesopotamia, but it does not cover all the areas Max and the team explored prior to full-fledged excavations - it would have benefited from a plotted line to show their travels and excavations sites.
In the narrative Agatha finds pleasure in giving nicknames to those around her, however, we do not discover if the jovial names are fully welcome by the individuals. In the book, Christie recalls some of the personal aspects of her life and I wonder why she felt the need to do so. In chapter one, she accounts details of a shopping expedition a few weeks before starting out for Syria.
Chapter One: Partant pour la Syrie [Leaving for Suria]
Shopping for a hot climate in autumn or winter presents certain difficulties. One's last year's summer clothes, which one has optimistically hoped will 'do', do no 'do' now the time has come. … Alas, that one has to say it! – they are too tight everywhere. [The shop assistant offers some advice.] 'Of course, Modom, we are not being asked for that kind of thing just now! We have some very charming little suits here – O.S. in darker colours.'
Oh, loathsome O.S.! How humiliating to be O.S.! How even more humiliating to be recognised at once as O.S.!
Agatha comes into her own at important times.
At four-thirty p.m. [Max] arrives in my room and asks hopefully:
'Any room in your suitcases?'
Long experiences should have warned me to answer firmly 'No', but I hesitate, and immediately doom falls upon me.
'If you could just get one or two things –'
'Not books?'
Max looks faintly surprised and says: 'Of course books – what else?'
Advancing he rams down two immense tomes on top of the Empire Builders Wife's suit which has been lying smugly on top of the suitcase.
I utter a cry of protest, but too late.
'Nonsense,' says Max, 'lots of room!' And forces down the lid, which refuses spiritedly to shut.
…..
At nine a.m. I am called in as the heavy-weight to sit on Max's bulging suitcases.
'If you can't make them shut,' Max says ungallantly, nobody can!'
Each of the twelve chapters captures an incident worthy of comment, but there are two underlying features that run throughout the narrative. Firstly Hamoudi, who is a 'guide, philosopher and friend, for many years foreman at Ur, an old friend of [Max]'. Hamoudi always tries to get the best deal from any transaction that he undertakes on behalf of the expedition. One tale recounts the fact of him purchasing 200 withered oranges that had seen better days, rather than a few fresh oranges, because they are a better deal. He is also responsible for the car running out of petrol in the middle of nowhere, because of the weight of the fuel would mean the engine would have to work harder propelling all the extra weight and, besides, he wanted to see just how far the car would go before it ran out of petrol. The second element that runs throughout the narrative is the skills of Max Mallowan, who speaks the language of the locals, understands how to stop quarrels between natives and deftly manages the payment to the locals they employ.
Christie brings humour to the narrative with the skill of one who can see and recall what is going on around them. Chapter Five begins:
Chagar Bazar is turning out well, and B. comes out from London as additional help for the last month.
Apart from our usual business in Kamichie of visits to the bank, shopping at M. Yannakos', and a polite call on the French, B. has business of his own – namely, to collect a parcel sent after him from England and consisting of two pairs of pyjamas.
Trying to collect the parcel from the post office, they find that it must be collected from the customs office. The customs office is closed on Wednesday, so they must return. No, the parcel cannot be collected tomorrow, as it must be returned to the post office having completed the paperwork and the post office will be closed as it does not open on Thursdays. There is a question of eight pounds customs duty to be paid on the pyjamas that cost only two pounds. A few days are wasted in trying to resolve the problem. 'The business is rapidly becoming an international incident.' The parcel eventually arrives at the house.
We all stand around and watch B. open his parcel.
He holds the contents up proudly, explaining, like the White Knight, that this is a special invention of his own.
'Mosquitoes,' he explains. 'Does away with mosquito nets.'
Max says he's never seen a mosquito in these parts.
The pyjamas are of white washing silk. They are all in one, with a hood that comes up over the head, and the sleeves end in fingerless gloves. A zip closes up the front, so that the only parts of the wearer exposed to mosquito attack are the eyes and nose.
'And you breathe in and out through your nose, which keeps off the mosquitoes', says B. triumphantly.
We are fast asleep that night when a terrific hullabaloo breaks out. We spring up, thinking for the moment that we are being attacked by robbers. We all rush out into the dining-room. A white figure is rushing wildly up and down, yelping and jumping about.
'Good Heavens, B., what's the matter?' cries Max.
For the moment we think that B. has gone mad.
But enlightenment comes.
By some means or another, a mouse has insinuated itself into the mosquito-proof pyjamas! The zip has jammed.
It is daylight before we stop laughing.
Only B. is not really amused.
This is a wonderful book to read, and although it is only 204 pages long, the print is very small, so it was anything but a quick read and there are six pages of photographs from the time in Syria. In this book, the reader is introduced to another side of Christie and we share her humour and the 'fun' of excavations in Syria. I really enjoyed reading this narrative. Rating: 5 stars.
Dr Sheppard
8 May2017
It may be of interest to the reader to know something about Max Mallowan, so here is a very brief link to Agatha Christie and the work in Syria, courtesy of Wikipedia.
