Imagine, if you will, being a famous female mystery author. You’ve been publishing for over forty-five years, and you’ve become more than a bit tired of your fans’ favorite detective, the egg-headed Hercule Poirot. What’s a person to do? Try a mystery where there’s no murder, only a confused, drugged twenty-something who is sure she’s committed one. Poirot, of course, has his suspicions early on:

“She is not one who can cope with difficulties. She is not one of those who can see before hand the dangers that must come. She is one of whom others will look round and say, ‘We want a victim. That one will do.'”

I enjoyed this one very much, and intend on acquiring a paper copy. It is quintessential Christie, and while somewhat rooted in the time period (those dirty, sexually ambiguous youth of the 60s is a frequent topic of conversation among the more mature), at least it wasn’t offensively so. Poirot is present from page one, and mystery writer and friend Mrs. Oliver appears not long after. I can’t help but feel as if Christie was having a bit of meta fun in this one, playing off her detective and alter ego against each other. Poirot has just finished a literary magnum opus and feels he needs a new challenge (!). When Mrs. Oliver happens to be involved in this non-mystery, she leaps in, certain ‘real’ detectives ‘do’ things. There’s also the usual commentary about authors and being famous. See what I mean by meta?

“‘Who told this girl about you, Monsieur Poirot?’
‘No one, so far as I know. Naturally, she had heard about me, no doubt.’
Mrs. Oliver thought that ‘naturally’ was not the word at all. What was natural was that Poirot himself was sure that everyone had always heard of him. Actually large numbers of people would only look at you blankly if the name of Hercule Poirot was mentioned, especially the younger generation.”

It’s definitely a slow progression, seeing how there isn’t precisely a known murder. It has the feel of a character study, a more full one than some of her early books. Reminds me perhaps, just a bit, of Crooked House, although the people here are far less eccentric. Many feel quite real, and quite of their time period. There’s more than a little indirect commentary when Poirot uses the pretense of an old war connection to meet with the elderly Sir Roderick. They engage in their remembrances, and after Poirot leaves, Sir Roderick confides to his assistant that he can’t remember who the man is at all, but humored Poirot out of the war connection. It’s a story built on those kind of moments. The build is definitely a ‘think, think,’ kind of story, not at all an action one.

For me, it was a four star read, but I read Christie for very different reasons than most. I’ve been reading her works for over three decades now, and I’m almost positive I’ve read all of the Poirot and Marple more than a few times. Still, I was never methodical about it, so I’m always kind of hoping to run into one I might have missed. Because of that, most the stories never reach the type of suspense a brand-new mystery does–not that they aren’t good, or enjoyable as one watches the intricate puzzle pieces click into place–but I don’t need to finish them. As I’ve aged, I’ve noted that Christie often relies on a cultural characterization of ‘madness’ that is more than a bit outdated. However, on reflection, I realize it’s more often a red herring, like something her readers expect her to address but she then subverts. I mostly read Christie because she’s really a marvelously intricate character writer who does so much with a few choice words. It’s a pleasure for the little grey cells. ( )

Agatha Christie rarely makes a misstep in her mysteries but Third Girl, originally published in 1966, falls a little short of her usual fare. The book features Hercule Poirot, but an older, slower Poirot who takes a long time to put the pieces together and figure out exactly what is going on.

He is approached by a perplexed girl who thinks that she might have killed someone. She appears totally spaced out and announces that Poirot is too old to help and leaves. Although his feelings are hurt at being called “old”, he tracks her down with the assistance of Ariadne Oliver to her London flat that she shares with two other young ladies but she is missing both from there and from the family’s country house.

Although Ms. Christie tries very hard to inject excitement to the story with hints of drugs and gas-lighting, the story actually plods along and Poirot’s efforts to establish whether the third girl is guilty, innocent or insane never really picks up. I guess you could say that I prefer Poirot in the 1930s and 40s to seeing him fuddle around with long haired mods in the 1960s. ( )

A delightful return to the antics of Hercule Poirot and his interest in love. A neurotic young girl visits Poirot and states that she may have murdered someone. The young lady, Norma Restarick, then quickly leaves Poirot’s home. Through many twists and turns, and with the aid of Ariadne Oliver, Poirot finds and rescues Norma. Many wicked events transpire before the mystery unfolds. What a mystery! This reader never reveals the sordid details, you must read the book yourself. Agatha Christie shines with her description of characters and setting. The ending runs the gamut of surprises and false identities, so much like Shakespeare. Of course, with Hercule Poirot, the ending always seems to highlight a romance and forthcoming marriage. ( )

Agatha Christie's mysteries often do strange things with the plotline, and this one did too. At first, it wasn't even clear if a murder had been committed! The resolution also had some fun twists I never saw coming. ( )

Having read several 'Poirot' books now, I find it curious that Poirot stories continues to exist a lot later than the TV programmes make you think. [return][return]This story is set in the 1960s (also written around the same time), and involves: money, drugs, drugging others, killings, artists (did I mention drugs?), etc etc. ( )

Feb. 2021 reread:
While the basis of the plot was ingenious, Christie's comments about life in the mid-1960s England felt dated and, to be frank, somewhat of the disgruntled elder who disliked the culture & attitudes of the youth of the time. But on the plus side, I always enjoy when Ariadne Oliver is a major character. ( )

Third Girl by Agatha Christie comes late in the Hercule Poirot mysteries, published in 1966. I borrowed it from the library to meet the Bingo card entry for switched/stolen identities. Despite knowing the mystery hinged on that feature, I didn't figure it out. It was an interesting mystery as the actual murder isn't revealed until very late in the book and, even then, seems like hearsay. I think the most interesting part is that Christie features the clash between generations that was so important in the 1960s as part of the mystery itself. Poirot is his typical self and the mystery includes his sometimes-sidekick Ariadne Oliver. A good read that surprised me in the end.

Avó Ana aos 14

Not nearly as good as her earlier work, contrived and hard to follow with an ending that just came out of nowhere. ( )

To be honest, after reading 20 or so, I sniffed out the potential solution before Poirot did. Maybe I'm getting better or Christie was getting older.
However, I still enjoyed it. And I must admit that I guffawed (no other word for it) for the whole first chapter regarding the peacock. ( )

Here's my full review:
http://www.sholee.net/2019/09/mpov-third-girl.html ( )

Hate being so mean but apart from slight comic moments between Mrs Oliver and M Poirot which I was seeing in my mind's eye the superb David Suchet and Zoe Wanamaker acting out it was dull and unbelievable almost from first to last.
Maybe it would have made a good short story ,but most of this book just wonders and ponders on very little,over and over again...
The ending was at least full of action but didn't seem particularly exciting or realistic either.... ( )

When Poirot is visited by a young girl who says she thinks she may have committed a murder, his interest is peaked. How can someone not know that she has killed another person? There have been no reported recent deaths. Poirot believes that there is more to the case than meets the eye. Is the Third Girl the perpetrator or the victim of a diabolical crime?

Norma Restarick is a quiet girl, prone to unpredictable behaviour. Abandoned by her father, she was raised by a bitter mother. On her father’s return from overseas he brings with him a new wife, one whom Norma hates. There are rumours that Norma tried to poison her step-mother which is why she was shipped off to live in London, the third girl in a flat share. She has blackouts, and finds things like bloodied knives in her drawer which then disappear. She not sure what she may or may not have done and doesn’t appreciate Poirot’s interference.

According to those in the know this is a rare later novel which features Poirot from the outset. It is true that he is there from the opening pages until the end but he is helped in his investigation by Ariadne Oliver, the enthusiastic crime novelist.

The more Poirot delves into the history of Norma, and her current situation, the more he finds that appears to be unexplainable. The reveal, when it comes is fiendishly clever, showing the depths humans will go to in order to protect themselves and to get their own way. There are hints that things are not quite right throughout. Norma isn’t particularly likeable, her boyfriend David is annoying and her flatmates seem to care very little for her. Poirot knows that the puzzle doesn’t quite fit together and has to work to make the full picture appear.

This is one of the later adventures of Poirot, set in the 1960s when his star is on the wane and the social and political landscape has changed.

Can someone be guilty of murder if there are no bodies, no crime scenes, no witnesses? Can the mere suggestion that you may have killed someone be enough to convince you that you did? These are the questions Poirot must answer to work out what is happening to or has happened because of Norma Restarick.

A fun outing with the egg shaped man with the little grey cells. ( )

Feb. 2021 reread:
While the basis of the plot was ingenious, Christie's comments about life in the mid-1960s England felt dated and, to be frank, somewhat of the disgruntled elder who disliked the culture & attitudes of the youth of the time. But on the plus side, I always enjoy when Ariadne Oliver is a major character. ( )

I love Poirot novels, but this one has been a chore to read. I persevered because it's my goal to read all the Agatha Christie mysteries, and I still wanted to see the solution to the case, but apart from that, it was a pain. It feels weird to give such a harsh judgement because usually I give high ratings - I think I'm quite selective about what I read and what I expect, and rate accordingly - but this one just had too many aspects getting on my nerves.
- Ariadne Oliver: I know many people like her, but she's just not a character I enjoy reading about. Just too much of a female caricature.
- The storytelling: It was just rambling. It was dragging most of the time, it was not coherent, and every time when I thought the pace would get better and the case would finally pick up, the next chapter was about something completely different and slowing down again. Frustrating!
- Sexism: The portrayal of women in this novel made me angry. I know that there are questionable characterizations in many Agatha Christie stories, and usually I put up with them as the Zeitgeist of their time, but this was just too much. Describing every woman who does not act as is expected of her as hysterical? To write about suicide as something unavoidable if a woman leads her life in a certain way? To write lightheartedly about mental illnesses, drugs, psychological problems, and judge every single woman very severely regarding her appearance and her manner? Not ok!
And likewise, it is mentioned several times that it's not possible to distinguish young men from women anymore because they have shoulder-length hair and wear colors now. Seriously??
- The case itself: While I thought that the original premise was interesting and new - a young woman visiting Poirot because she thinks she has murdered someone, but isn't sure of it - the development of the case and the final solution just felt like a mix of previous cases, it was rather predictable after a certain point and I felt like I had seen it all before.
The case still did interest me from time to time and there were some chapters that were a little more exciting, so that is what the one and a half stars are for. But, it's safe to say that I'm not a fan of the later Poirot novels. I really prefer the classic ones, taking place in a village or a country house. This just had too much negative energy and I'm not reading these kinds of mysteries for that.
Of course I'll go on with my project of reading all the Agatha Christies, but next time I'm reading a late one, I'll know to be a bit more cautious about what to expect from it. ( )

I love mysteries but this one just dragged. Too many times Hercule Poirot went over the facts, wasted too much time thinking how great a thinker he should be. I guessed part of the mystery way too soon. ( )

Terrific, and a lovely break from the book before it (I put down, metaphorically, an audiobook version of Gallows Court which I did not care for, largely because of the narrator, actually, and picked up, metaphorically, an audiobook version of Third Girl with such a good narrator that I'm seeking out his other work—he seems to specialize in Christie).

And I'm partial to Ariadne Oliver, so anything she shows up in is an extra treat. The attempt at modernity didn't bother me (it seemed apt, for the time period—youth were certainly openly trying drugs, and dressing in their own fashions, instead of aping the look of their elders). But mostly it just flowed, and breathed, and I wondered what happened next throughout (or what had happened, it's a mystery after all)—it held my interest—I was close to the solution by the end, but had only worked out about 1/3 of it, so there were still surprising payoffs.

(I've only actually guessed fully right on a Christie novel once before, out of about 80, so even randomly you'd think I'd do better. She has wonderful misdirection).

And I'd thought I'd read every single thing she'd written (save the romances), but I'm pretty sure this was new to me. Not one character or incident tweaked a memory. So it was a delight to get to gobble up a new Christie, after so long!

(Note: 5 stars = amazing, wonderful, 4 = very good book, 3 = decent read, 2 = disappointing, 1 = awful, just awful. I'm fairly good at picking for myself so end up with a lot of 4s). ( )

"Third Girl" was a strange and dispiriting journey for me.

At the start of the book, I was pleasantly surprised at the contemporary (1960's) feel of the novel. There was much more humour in it than I'd expected but there was also more violence and a deeper sense of threat than in other Poirot novels I've read.

I loved the opening where Norma, (a young woman who is constantly referred to as a girl) interrupts Poirot's breakfast, insisting that she needs to talk to him about a murder and then leaves without giving him any details, telling him that, having met him face to face, she can see he's too old to be able to help her. This was a splendid inversion of the Philip Marlowe type of opening scene where the femme fatale uses her allure to get the hard-bitten gumshoe's help. It was also perfectly calculated to ensure Poirot's enthusiastic engagement.

I also greatly enjoyed seeing the inimitable and indomitable Adriadne Oliver playing detective. She was a complete hoot, a wonderful example of misplaced confidence arising from a broad imagination married to narrow experience.

All the best scenes in the book had Adriadne in them. Her presence brought the dialogue alive. She's so much easier to like than Poirot and her pen sketches of the young people in the allegedly swinging London of 1966 were refreshing: the young man with the pretty hair and the gaudy clothes that she calls "The Peacock", the artist working in oils that she refers to simply as "The Dirty One" and the young model who she describes as throwing herself into Burne-Jones poses with admirable flexibility. There's no malice here, just a naive observation by someone who has no qualms about not being in tune with the times.

I had no idea what was going on or how the plot strands would come together but I was enjoying the journey.

By the time I was midway through the book, my disappointment had begun. I continued to enjoy Poirot's dry wit, Ariadne's blustering slapstick and the carefully nuanced descriptions of people's characters but those things began to be outweighed by the large chunks of clumsy plot exposition that even Hugh Fraser's narration couldn't make interesting. I was also starting to be irritated by the deeply conservative attitudes towards gender and mental health. I felt as though I was dipping blindly into a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans: I might get something that made me smile or something that made me want to wash the taste away.

The last third of the book was a chore. There were repeated attempts at sharing Poirot's thought processes, which was irritating as they were mostly plot recaps, lacked any analysis and reached no conclusions. The psychiatrist who is instrumental in resolving the plot managed, despite having all the credibility of a cardboard cutout, to be deeply offensive both as a person and as a mental health practitioner.

The plot, when it finally emerged from the detritus-ridden undergrowth we had all wriggled through, was moderately clever but was spoiled for me by one of the early Mission Impossible TV Series moments when a mask is pulled off a main character and he or she is instantly revealed to be someone else. This was limp at best.

What disappointed me even more than the cheat in the big reveal was the way in which Norma was treated. The outcome stretched my willingness to suspend disbelief and angered me because it so demeaned the woman who, as the novel progressed moved from main character to semi-plausible plot-device, to the punchline of a French farce.

If this has been my first Agatha Christie, it might well have been my last. As it is, I'm going to read "The Murder Of Roger Ackroyd" in the hope of demonstrating to myself that Poirot stories once had substance. ( )

Well I admit I like the cover of this book. Some of the Christie covers by HarperCollins have been pretty great. Other than that, this was a pretty average mystery novel.

The character of Poirot has descended into even more pompousness if possible. After a young woman comes to Poirot saying that she has murdered someone, and runs away after realizing that he is old (yeah that happened) Poirot is aggrieved by the encounter. A chance phone call by Mrs. Oliver leads Poirot to figuring out who the mysterious girl is and who is it that she has murdered.

The secondary character of Ariadne Oliver who helps Poirot ferret out the truth has gotten less ridiculous in these books. What will always be really funny about this character is that she is a stand in for Agatha Christie. Mrs. Oliver writes very popular detective stories starring a Swedish detective. And just like Agatha Christie, criticizes her creation because she one hundred percent dislikes him. Frankly I think that is pretty apparent in the last couple of Poirot books where you have other characters criticizing Poirot either by how he looks (a very old man with dubious dye on his head) or that he has gotten rounder over the years.

When we have Poirot and Mrs. Oliver investigating this mysterious girl who is a third girl living in a flat with two other girls (a new living arrangement that started in the 1960s with young women living together into converted flats) Poirot and Mrs. Oliver seemed to have stumbled onto something dark and mysterious.

The writing was good, I did laugh a few times at comments that Mrs. Oliver and Poirot made of the younger generation living in London at the time. Apparently neither literary character were fond of people dressing as if they were homeless or dirty. And there were a couple of comments made about beatniks and the Beatles that had me laughing. One does feel for Poirot since his character seems lost in this new post War World II society. I am realizing that at this point Poirot has to be in his 70s or 80s. Reading about the drug using youth in England at the time was definitely interesting.

The flow was off though and I think that was because we had so much going on with an additional character that was plopped in (Dr. John Stillingfleet) and we had Poirot and Mrs. Oliver subtly interviewing people around the mysterious third girl.

The setting really doesn't come into play here. I always think that in most Christie books except for a handful she really doesn't play up enough about the surroundings the characters inhabit unless it is a house or train. I miss her locked door mysteries a lot. She seemed to take more care in planning them and making them plausible.

That leads to the lackluster ending. The last few Poirot books have been kind of annoying to me as a reader because Poirot always reveals something that it is not known to the reader. I think of it as a cheat, because if you had the same information you could have figured out who did it and why as well. That is the most fun part for reading these books for me. Trying to figure out the who and the why. As it was once again the plot was reduced to absurdity when you figure out the who and the why. And we have seemed to resurrected another plot element she has used in the last few books. Considering that there is only one more Poirot book to go, Elephants Can Remember, before Curtain, I wonder if old school Christie is going to pop up soon. ( )

I read a lot of Agatha Christie when I was in middle school. Honestly, I can't imagine why I enjoyed her books so much. This one was dull and wrapped up far too nicely in the last couple of pages. ( )

I'm not supposed to figure out what is going on way before Poirot does, but it happened this time. Not the best mystery. However, the wonderful Ariadne Oliver has a big part in this one, which always makes me happy. There is an odd time warp effect reading this - Christie was trying hard to be up to date, setting the story in swinging mod London in the 60's. But the frequent cultural references make it feel like more of a bygone era than the settings of her earlier books. ( )

I liked this one. the story was very complex. I actually guessed the ending pretty early on, but I second guessed myself and by halfway through, I was certain my pet theory was incorrect, but I had been right all along. Recommended to any Poirot fans. ( )

Third Girl - Christie
Audio performance by Hugh Fraser
4 stars

Poirot and Ariadne Oliver put their aging heads together,, little grey cells and errant hair pieces, to disentangle the clues and solve the murder. It wasn’t only Poirot who was aging. Agatha Christie was having a hard time with the groovy sixties drug scene. This was not one of her best, but I did like that Poirot managed to keep his head up to soothe his damaged pride with the perfect denouement. ( )

Poirot appears as a rather pompous man in this story, which might have worked better with Miss Marple. A girl thinks she might have committed a murder, but isn't sure. The plot moves around the country in a fast-paced style. A good light read. ( )

I really did like it, up until the next to last chapter when M. Poirot was sitting in his chair "thinking"... That was boring as Christie liked to confuse her readers w/ Red Herrings.

A young woman, Norma, is sharing a flat with two others, she is commonly known as "the third girl"... Her father has recently returned from South Africa w/ his new & younger wife, who has had mysterious bouts of gastritis whenever Norma visits.

Norma is suffering from "madness" and delusions and goes to visit M. Poirot, saying that she believes that she has committed a murder, but abruptly leaves telling M. Poirot, that he is "too old" to help her.

M. Poirot cadges an invitation to meet Norma's family via Mrs. Ariadne Oliver, who then also becomes involved in the mystery....

Added into the mix is Norma's great uncle, who is known to M. Poirot from sensitive war "business" and may be missing some very important historical documents, the Uncle's secretary, Norma's boyfriend, Norma's two flat mates, & the upstairs neighbor who has fallen from her balcony to her death.....

I caught on to a good part of the mystery & who done it. I didn't like or dislike the characters, but this was a good steady read. ( )