Public Domain Status Of Miss Marple Sparks Debate On Cross Border Copyright

That, in turn, brought to mind another quiet milestone earlier this year: on 1 January 2026, the Miss Marple character - arguably Christie’s most beloved protagonist - also entered the public domain in the United States, having made her first appearance in The Murder at the Vicarage in 1930.

In essence, Miss Marple’s entry into the public domain means that, subject to any applicable trade mark rights, she may now be put to literary sleuth work by anyone in the United States - new stories, new mysteries, new adaptations - even though some later works in which she appears remain protected by copyright.

Note the repeated use of the phrase “in the United States”. That small, seemingly innocent qualifier will become important shortly. In The Murder at the Vicarage, Miss Marple observes: “Human nature is much the same everywhere”. However, maybe not so much for copyright, and indeed intellectual property? Even more so when it comes to emerging and rapidly involving markets, including most African countries. Let’s park that thought for the moment.

Classical covers and samples

The reworking of classical material - whether literary or musical - is nothing new. There is something oddly satisfying about recognising the roots of a modern work in an older one, like spotting a hidden reference that rewards the attentive listener or reader.

Take Song Sung Blue by Neil Diamond. A lovely tune - and embedded within it, albeit with a different rhythm and syncopation, is almost the exact same harmonic sequence as Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 21 (often remembered as Elvira Madigan from the film, for those of us of a certain vintage). It’s a subtle nod - a small surprise rather than a full-blown appropriation.

Or consider Memories by Maroon 5. It sounds oddly familiar, doesn’t it? That is because it leans heavily on Pachelbel’s Canon in D - the musical equivalent of a best man’s speech: ever-present at weddings, reliably emotional, and occasionally going on just a little too long. Yet it works in a modern jacket – surprisingly well.

From a copyright perspective, both examples are entirely uncontroversial. Mozart and Pachelbel passed away centuries ago, and their compositions sit comfortably in the public domain.

Sometimes, however, things become rather more complicated.

Consider All By Myself, made famous by Eric Carmen and later propelled to even greater popularity by Céline Dion. Its sweeping, emotive melody is drawn almost note-for-note from Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto. Grand, dramatic, and, as it turned out - legally problematic.

Some 15 years after the song’s release, the Rachmaninoff Estate came calling. The allegation was straightforward: Carmen had used a substantial portion of the concerto without permission, amounting to copyright infringement. What had seemed like a homage ultimately crossed a legal line.

And this is where jurisdiction - and that earlier emphasis on “in the United States” - starts to matter.

Location, location, location

Importantly, this was not a case of denial. Eric Carmen admitted the source material but believed he was legally entitled to use it - and, at the time, he was. In the United States.

In the US, copyright duration was (at the time) calculated from the date of creation of the work. However, in the UK, and in many other countries, copyright runs until the end of the year in which the author dies, plus a statutory period.

As a result, when he wrote All By Myself in 1975, Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor had entered the public domain in the US, but remained protected in the UK until 2013.

The dispute was ultimately settled, with Carmen agreeing to share songwriting credit and royalties with the Rachmaninoff Estate - an outcome that neatly illustrates how reliance on a single country’s copyright rules can carry unexpected international risk.

Takeaways

There are some clear lessons to be drawn from Carmen’s predicament - lessons that extend well beyond copyright and well beyond familiar legal systems.

They speak to the broader reality of intellectual property law as a territorial system, particularly when rights are exploited across multiple and sometimes developing jurisdictions.

While many core principles have, over time, been broadly harmonised internationally, the operative word remains “broadly”. Exceptions still abound.

In copyright law, the US–UK divide provides a familiar starting point, with materially different approaches to the calculation of term, subsistence, and what precisely falls into the public domain at any given time. What appears safe to use in one jurisdiction may remain protected in another.

Trade mark law presents its own deviations. Use requirements vary widely, renewal periods are not uniform, and the treatment of well-known marks can differ significantly from country to country - sometimes protecting brand owners more than they expect, and sometimes less.

Patent law is no kinder to those who do not tread carefully. For example, a disclosure that is forgiven in a jurisdiction recognising grace periods may be fatal in one that insists on absolute novelty, permanently destroying patentability.

Registered designs add yet another layer of complexity: even technical details such as whether features are shown in broken or solid lines can determine the scope - and in some cases the validity - of protection, with consequences that change from one country to the next.

None of these issues are obvious on the face of the law, and all of them too often tend to reveal themselves only once it is too late.

Assumption is the mother of all mistakes

The overarching lesson is therefore a simple one: do not assume.

Intellectual property rights are territorial, nuanced, and highly sensitive to timing and form. A course of action that appears sensible, or even routine, in one jurisdiction can carry serious risk in another.

Early, jurisdiction-specific advice is not a luxury but a necessity, and failing to do the groundwork at the outset can leave rights holders in positions that are difficult, expensive, or outright impossible to unwind.

This is particularly true in Africa, where intellectual property systems continue to develop and diverge - often rapidly and unpredictably. In such an environment, knowing when to pause and pick up the phone can be the most valuable protection of all.

Miss Marple may be a freelance detective in the US, but in the UK - and many other countries - she remains on exclusive brief to the Agatha Christie Estate.

In short, know exactly which version of Miss Marple you are dealing with - and never forget that even great detectives are bound by national borders.