I’ve talked before about my early and lifelong love of Agatha Christie. She is just the cat’s meow in my opinion. I think half the reason I bagged my murder mystery was because it wasn’t up to snuff with hers. LOL.
Come, Tell Me How You Live is not a mystery. Anyone who dies, does so from natural causes. In fact, it isn’t even a fiction work. Come is the memoir of her time digging in Syria with her second husband Max Mallowan. He was an archaeologist. Agatha accompanied him on several of his digs. She began making notes in the years just before World War II as a way to answer the questions people frequently asked her. But after the four years of war, she ended up penning the book as a love letter to a simpler time and an amazingly happy period in her life.
I’ve read this book a dozen times by now and each time it makes me laugh and then makes me cry. Agatha is completely unvarnished when she describes everything. She pokes more fun at herself than anyone else. She’s raw and unedited in her emotions. It’s a delightful window into a different way of life. The people she encounters and the work that is done – it’s all an amusing social commentary by someone who knows people and made her living on that knowledge.
℘℘℘℘ – Four Pages. I’m always happy to read this book. To escape for just a bit.