Like reading an Agatha Christie mystery, this slim autobiography takes you to a different era. "Come, Tell Me How You Live" was originally published in 1946, but it covers five archaeological seasons that took place before WWII. All of the digs were in Syria, which was French-controlled at the time.

This is a simply charming memoir. When Agatha accompanied her husband, archaeologist Max Mallowan, on these expeditions, she was already famous for at least 8 published mysteries starring Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple. As Jacquetta Hawkes states in the book's introduction, this is not an archaeological treatise, but a light-hearted look at Christie's game embracing of life in the field. (Hawkes was a much-published archaeologist in her own right.)

The contrast between the more familiar British life and attitudes to those of the Syrians she meets, which included ex-Armenians and Kurds and many different religions, is marked. Christie is never disrepectful of these differences, and the very occasional whiff of nobless oblige is written with such comic appreciation that I thoroughly enjoyed it. I had to keep in mind that this was written nearly 80 years ago, and undoubtedly, much has changed now.

There's lots of gentle humor, and I had several laugh-out-loud moments while reading "Come, Tell Me How You Live". At one point, Christie expounds on the communication problem with employees, only partly explained by the language difference:
  "The servant problem on the Habur is very different from the servant problem in England. You might say that here the servants have an employer problem! Our fancies, prejudices, likes and dislikes are quite fantastic, and follow, to the native mind, no logical pattern whatever!
  For instance, various cloths of slightly different texture with different-coloured borders are issued, and are supposed to be used for different purposes. Why this elaboration?
  Why, when Mansur is using a blue-edged teacloth to wipe mud from the car's radiator, does an incensed Khatun (Christie) emerge from the house full of condemnation? The cloth has removed the mud most successfully. Again, why unmerited censure when a visit to the kitchen reveals the fact that the breakfast things after washing up are being wiped with a sheet?
  'But,' protests Mansur, anxious to vindicate his conduct, 'it is not a clean sheet we are using. It is a dirty sheet!' "

I very much enjoyed this memoir. It is full of love for the strange landscape and captivating people.

Happy Reader
Like reading an Agatha Christie mystery, this slim autobiography takes you to a different era. "Come, Tell Me How You Live" was originally published in 1946, but it covers five archaeological seasons that took place before WWII. All of the digs were in Syria, which was French-controlled at the time. This is a simply charming memoir. When Agatha accompanied her husband, archaeologist Max Mallowan, on these expeditions, she was already famous for at least 8 published mysteries starring Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple. As Jacquetta Hawkes states in the book's introduction, this is not an archaeological treatise, but a light-hearted look at Christie's game embracing of life in the field. (Hawkes was a much-published archaeologist in her own right. )

The contrast between the more familiar British life and attitudes to those of the Syrians she meets, which included ex-Armenians and Kurds and many different religions, is marked. Christie is never disrepectful of these differences, and the very occasional whiff of nobless oblige is written with such comic appreciation that I thoroughly enjoyed it. I had to keep in mind that this was written nearly 80 years ago, and undoubtedly, much has changed now. There's lots of gentle humor, and I had several laugh-out-loud moments while reading "Come, Tell Me How You Live". At one point, Christie expounds on the communication problem with employees, only partly explained by the language difference:
  "The servant problem on the Habur is very different from the servant problem in England. You might say that here the servants have an employer problem! Our fancies, prejudices, likes and dislikes are quite fantastic, and follow, to the native mind, no logical pattern whatever! For instance, various cloths of slightly different texture with different-coloured borders are issued, and are supposed to be used for different purposes. Why this elaboration? Why, when Mansur is using a blue-edged teacloth to wipe mud from the car's radiator, does an incensed Khatun (Christie) emerge from the house full of condemnation? The cloth has removed the mud most successfully. Again, why unmerited censure when a visit to the kitchen reveals the fact that the breakfast things after washing up are being wiped with a sheet? 'But,' protests Mansur, anxious to vindicate his conduct, 'it is not a clean sheet we are using. It is a dirty sheet! ' "

I very much enjoyed this memoir. It is full of love for the strange landscape and captivating people. Happy Reader