Poirot

“If you will forgive me for being personal – I do not like your face. “

Hercule Poirot (Agatha Christie)

Agatha Christie’s most famous creation, with his foppish manners, memorable moustache and his ‘little grey cells’. It took me many months over the course of a very relaxed gap year (several years ago) to plough through all these wonderful books and I only hope I have the time to do it all over again soon. 33 full-length novels, amongst which are some of the great crime-writer’s best (Murder on the Orient Express and Death on the Nile, to name just two) and over 50 short-stories comprise the Poirot collection and not once did i guess ‘who dun it’ correctly.

This is likely as much a reflection of my own, non-investigative thinking as anything (I find I can relate all too well to Hastings’ constant confusion) but even during the rereads I have managed since, little enjoyment is lost at knowing a few of the twists and turns. The writing takes us back to what is sometimes called a more ‘innocent age’ , and certainly there is little i recognise of my England in the quaint villages and their prim, proper peoples. None of this is to the books’ detriment, however, at least not in my opinion. The gentle humour, occasionally endearing (though quite often more of the ilk that you love to hate) characters and well-constructed plots make for a fun and easy read.

It’s so difficult to single-out favourites (though the two mentioned above are sublime), but for myself I find the ones with Ariadne Oliver to be particularly great fun. Take them to the beach. Take them to the park. Or take them to work and escape to Agatha Christie’s world for a few minutes on your lunch break. I’ts easy to dive in and out of and trust me – you’ll be chomping at the bit to see if the Butler really did it. (Spoiler alert: usually not).