Death On The Nile

Content Warning: This novel and review contain references to death, self-harm, graphic violence, suicide, and racism.

A classic whodunnit by “Queen of Mystery” Agatha Christie, Death on the Nile (1937) is widely regarded as one of the finest of her Hercule Poirot detective novels. As in most of Christie’s novels, the murder mystery unfolds amid an isolated pool of suspects—in this case, a motley crew of tourists aboard a Nile steamboat bound for Wadi Halfa. Among the 12 or so passengers, most of whom have secrets, are a beautiful young heiress caught in a vicious love triangle, her conniving lawyer, an aging writer of sexy romances, a militant young communist, and the brilliant Belgian sleuth Hercule Poirot, whose “little grey cells” are never at rest. When the young heiress turns up dead, Poirot—knowing that, in murder, a small detail that does not “fit” is often the most significant—must reject much of what seems to be true. One of Christie’s most exquisitely plotted mysteries, Death on the Nile has spawned numerous adaptations, including plays, TV productions, and two feature films. The story’s intricate twists and Poirot’s witty banter are the novel’s main attractions, making up for the lack of scenic description.  

Death on the Nile, a twisty murder mystery, opens in 1930s England with the doomed romance of Jacqueline de Bellefort, an intense young woman from a ruined upper-class family, and her handsome but penniless fiancé, Simon Doyle. By the book’s second chapter, Simon has jilted Jacqueline for her wealthy childhood friend, Linnet Ridgeway, and the two have sailed to Egypt for their honeymoon. However, the bitter Jacqueline uses the last of her savings to follow them, foiling their every attempt to elude her. On a leisurely cruise from Aswan to Wadi Halfa, the newlyweds find themselves trapped with Jacqueline aboard a luxury steamer, among whose passengers is the famed detective Hercule Poirot. An inveterate people-watcher, Poirot cannot help but notice that many of the boat’s passengers seem well acquainted with the rich socialite Linnet and that some (besides Jacqueline) appear to harbor a murderous grudge against her.

Ominously, Jacqueline has brought with her a small pistol, which she uses to taunt Simon one evening after a few drinks. Unexpectedly, Jacqueline shoots, and Simon slumps to the floor. One of the boat’s passengers, Dr. Bessner, arrives quickly and bandages Simon’s knee, which has been shattered by the gunshot. The remorseful Jacqueline, meanwhile, is led off to her cabin to be watched through the night by a nurse, lest she harm herself. During the night, there is a second shooting, apparently with the same gun, and this time, the victim is Linnet, shot through the head in her cabin. With the two surviving points of the love triangle (Simon and Jacqueline) seemingly exonerated by perfect alibis, Poirot ponders if the murder was an act of diabolical planning or a crime of opportunity by a passenger who witnessed Simon’s shooting and pocketed the gun in the confusion that followed.

Beyond its delicious suspense, one of the greatest pleasures of an Agatha Christie mystery is its sheer companionship. Even the least of Christie’s works brim with tart dialogue and colorful, engaging characters, most famously the mustachioed Hercule Poirot, Christie’s master creation. As ready with a French epigram as with a biblical quote, Poirot brings sophisticated warmth to Christie’s murder plots, whose watch-like intricacy and brutal violence never distract him from the beating heart at their center. Early in Death on the Nile, Poirot gently chides Linnet, a rich socialite who has stolen her best friend’s beau, with the analogy, “Like the rich man in the Bible, you took the poor man’s one ewe lamb” (60). Likewise, he implores Jacqueline, the wronged friend, not to “open [her] heart to evil” (69). Often disenchanted with humanity yet always hoping that people will surprise him, Poirot is a born romantic with a special affinity for domestic drama. When Linnet dies in her steamer cabin, Poirot uses his superb memory and reasoning skills to deduce which of the boat’s passengers had the motive, means, and opportunity to murder her.

The Egyptian setting, with its ancient grandeur, strikes an eerie contrast with the story’s young, au courant characters, sparking memento mori shivers of foreboding. Likewise, the Nile’s vast edifices, notably the enthroned colossi of Abul Simbel, cast timeless shadows of the imperious pharaohs, whose stony arrogance seems reincarnated in the ruthless young heiress Linnet Doyle. Unfortunately, aside from a few brief passages, these ancient ruins are barely described, which drains some of the color from the setting. Christie, whose novel was inspired by an actual Nile cruise, might have made the country a vivid character in her story. As it is, Egypt becomes a faint, almost arbitrary backdrop for her mystery—a boilerplate “exotic” locale with more than a whiff of Orientalism. Instead of scenic description, Christie furnishes her story with a surplus of subplots and slippery characters, including a South African terrorist and (most implausibly) two jewel thieves on the same small boat. Moreover, during the five-day cruise, two couples fall in love and become engaged, which may strike some readers as too much, though it will reassure the romantics—e.g., Poirot—that life, and love, go on, even in the wake of death.                 

Despite the cut-rate scenery and an embarrassment of red herrings, Death on the Nile crackles with excitement, and the solution to the murder mystery is one of Christie’s finest. Her characters’ witty interplay is engrossing in itself and often yields nuggets of fascinating lore, as when the dowager Mrs. Allerton explains a Scottish usage of the word “fey”: “the kind of exalted happiness that comes before disaster. You know—it’s too good to be true” (124). Some of Christie’s mysteries seem, in the end, too clever to be true. Death on the Nile is not one of these: Its conclusion is both believable and scrupulously hinted at with devilishly misleading clues, which will fool all but the most Poirotesque of readers.