| |||||
|
Foreword
There are certain clichés belonging to certain types of fiction. The “bold
bad baronet” for melodrama, the “body in the library” for the detective
story. For several years I treasured up the possibility of a suitable “Vari-
ation on a well-known Theme.” I laid down for myself certain conditions.
The library in question must be a highly orthodox and conventional lib-
rary. The body, on the other hand, must be a wildly improbable and
highly sensational body. Such were the terms of the problem, but for some
years they remained as such, represented only by a few lines of writing in
an exercise book. Then, staying one summer for a few days at a fashion-
able hotel by the seaside I observed a family at one of the tables in the din-
ing room; an elderly man, a cripple, in a wheeled chair, and with him was
a family party of a younger generation. Fortunately they left the next day,
so that my imagination could get to work unhampered by any kind of
knowledge. When people ask “Do you put real people in your books?” the
answer is that, for me, it is quite impossible to write about anyone I know,
or have ever spoken to, or indeed have even heard about! For some
reason, it kills them for me stone dead. But I can take a “lay figure” and
endow it with qualities and imaginings of my own.
So an elderly crippled man became the pivot of the story. Colonel and
Mrs. Bantry, those old cronies of my Miss Marple, had just the right kind
of library. In the manner of a cookery recipe add the following ingredi-
ents: a tennis pro, a young dancer, an artist, a girl guide, a dance hostess,
etc., and serve up à la Miss Marple!
|
|||||
- 发表评论
-
- 最新评论 进入详细评论页>>
