And then there were none character analysis essay

And Then There Were None

A wet hand touches her on the shoulder. She screams. The men run up into Vera's room, and find her screaming incoherently. Hanging from a hook on the ceiling is a long strand of seaweed - that's what had touched her shoulder. The men help her to her feet and offer her some brandy. Vera almost drinks some, then refuses, demanding that she be brought an unopened bottle. Lombard goes to get her one.

After she's had a drink, Lombard theorizes that the murderer has finally be foiled, but Armstrong finds it a little far-fetched that the murderer would plan on Vera fainting and needing brandy - especially since the glass of brandy they brought her hasn't been poisoned. Vera notices that Wargrave isn't in the room with them. Blore, Lombard and Armstrong are fairly sure that the doctor came up with them, and don't know what happened.

Everyone runs back down to the living room, and they find Wargrave sitting in his chair - with a red curtain wrapped around him and a grey wool wig on his head. Armstrong tells everyone to stay back, then examines the body. He takes the wig off, revealing a red mark on Wargrave's forehead. He announces that Wargrave has been shot in the head, killed instantly. Lombard laughs, and announces that he's almost happy to see Wargrave go. Everyone is shocked, and Vera points out that Lombard was sure that Wargrave was the killer. Browse all BookRags Book Notes. All rights reserved.

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He constantly suspects the wrong person, and his boldness often verges on foolhardiness. The recording accuses Emily Brent of killing Beatrice Taylor, a servant whom she fired upon learning that Beatrice was pregnant out of wedlock. Beatrice subsequently killed herself.

Unlike the other characters, Emily Brent feels convinced of her own righteousness and does not express the slightest remorse for her actions. Rogers continues to be a proper servant even after his wife is found dead and the bodies begin piling up. The recording accuses Rogers and his wife of letting their former employer die because they stood to inherit money from her. Once the first murders take place, Macarthur, already guilt-ridden about his crime, becomes resigned to his death and sits by the sea waiting for it to come to him.

Ethel is a frail woman, and the death of Tony Marston makes her faint. Wargrave believes her husband dominates her and that he masterminded their crime. Tony Marston likes to drive recklessly and seems to lack a conscience. The story is a vast underwater cavern, where nothing flows and nothing ebbs and all is as dark and still as the grave. Even my most harrowing nightmares would have never conjured such a soul-fearing tale. And Then There Were None was uncomfortable as it lodged itself in the darkest corner of my mind.

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The questions it asks and the implications it conceals are still twining up my legs like a barbed vine. I liked th There is scarcely any comfort to be found in this book, only an ancient, arcane horror. The whimsy of the moment, however, ebbs away when a disembodied message blaring from a gramophone tallies, in vivid and mordant detail, their unpunished crimes. Memories of their misdeeds, which used to be a distant and blurry thing, suddenly come into a sharp, lurid focus.

Death runs rampant with his bloody scythe on Soldier Island.

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Each creak and groan is a hunter stalking them, each flutter of wind its breath, close against their necks. This is their sentence coming to retrieve them. The experience of reading this book is akin to walking through a nightmare; I could not orient myself, did not know north from south.

My heart was a fistful of thunder, my mind a whirl pool of possibilities—each more terrible than the last. The not knowing was like a splinter in my mind. And as I was tracing the implications of every new revelation, my small, sickly faith was eroding. And Then There Were None is not a light read—it is, in fact, unrelentingly harrowing.

The hermetic, creepy atmosphere of Soldier Island makes a thriving black petri dish of foreboding and distortion. And as each of the characters' haunting pasts come to light and as their secrets swell to bursting, the book becomes more and more page-turning. But what appears to be a thriller is something far more perilous. Christie imbues the story with a well-observed psychological depth that holds its own fascination. The surface, of course, is arresting, but the harder you think the further you go, and it keeps on getting more productive.

The mind is an imperfect engine that does what it will with the information it receives. But what happens when fear, true fear , takes hold of it and scours out all else? When it becomes fractured and wild, crowded with the images of your most torturous evils?

https://plaktiafilla.tk What happens when your flimsy attempts at exonerating yourself and asserting some kind of spurious decency no longer stand up under the glaring attacks of guilt? It is also a forensic examination of remorse—the kind that is sharp enough to slice a man off his shadows. The truth of it hurts jagged. Try and vary your methods as you will, your tastes, your habits, your attitude of mind, and your soul is revealed by your actions. They are the author of this horrendous drama—a madman of the most blatant kind who suffers an unconquerable confederation of self-righteousness and depravity.

But what is most frightening is not the depth of their evil, but how cold it runs. Are humans really capable of being this infatuated with the blood and groaning of the theatrics of murder?

More about Anaylsis of And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie Essay

None of these characters are, of course, the kind of people you want to roll the red carpet for, but does anyone really deserve this? If there's a flaw running through And Then There Were None , it's that Christie maintains a respectful distance from her characters, and at times, that distance runs toward dryness.

Overall, however, And Then There Were None is a highly readable murder mystery and a provocative, pitch-black psychological thriller that will be hard to forget! View all 55 comments. Before I begin I would like to apologise for my use of the N word in this review. It is necessary, I promise. When it came to the US version in the 40's someone decided that 'Ten Little Niggers' is not the most marketable title for a book so they changed it to 'Ten Little Indians' as it was still ok to call Native Americans Indians then.

Only years after someone decided that neither 'Niggers', nor 'Indians' is a fortunate choice Before I begin I would like to apologise for my use of the N word in this review. Only years after someone decided that neither 'Niggers', nor 'Indians' is a fortunate choice of words for the title so it was changed to 'And Then There Were None' - the last line of the nursery rhyme which in this new version was called 'Ten Boy Soldiers'.

This is the version that I read and I must say I am glad. I think I would be rather uncomfortable reading something called 'The Little Niggers', which takes place on 'Nigger Island' how did Christie want to pull this off? The premise, I am sure you know, is this: ten people end up cut off from the world on a tiny island.

One of them is a murderer and people keep dying as in the nursery rhyme. Every person on the island has a secret and is guilty of a murder. It's the kind of murder where law is helpless. Nothing can be proven. This is why they found themselves on that island, at the mercy of a prototype 'Jigsaw' madman who decided justice must be done. The premise requires the structure of the novel to be very organised and clean cut. I felt that it was only right for me to approach the reading of it in an equally disciplined way.

I took five sheets of papers and divide each in half, thus ending up with ten cards, one for each character. And I continued to dilligently fill them out with all the details I learnt about the characters until about halfway through the book when I became too engrossed, frightened and nervous.

I already had an inkling as to who the murderer was and was petrified I would be murdered in my sleep as well.