I haven’t read an Agatha Christie mystery since my teens or early 20’s. Let’s just say it was many moons ago. Why I picked up one after so many years remains a mystery to me, but I’m glad I did. After plowing through Lincoln’s presidency for a couple of months, Dame Agatha’s The Murder of Roger Ackroyd was the perfect antidote to cleanse the historical palette.
I certainly appreciated the length (254 pages), the lightweight paperback, and the design of the Pocket edition that I remembered fondly from my younger years. What I had forgotten was how Christie wastes no words in telling her story. Descriptions are kept to a minimum, action often happens offstage, and most of the book is told through dialogue. I don’t remember the humor or the charm of these vedy British characters from past books, but as the song goes, “blame it on my youth.” I remember always having a preference for the Hercule Poirot mysteries and this story served up its tale very well. Murder, suicide, poisons…all the earmarks of a cracking good Agatha Christie mystery.
The Murder of Roger Ackroyd was an utter delight and has wet my appetite for more. Perhaps a Miss Marple next…
November 2, 2008 at 10:58 pm
this is one of my favourite agatha christie mysteries. i prefer the hercule poirot mysteries to miss marple, though the latter is good too. you should read and then there were none – that one’s really out of this world!