The strangest thing happened. One cannot, I suppose, say that one stumbles upon Agatha Christie - the latter is much too well known to be stumbled upon. This quality of eminence should excuse my cynicism about her books. Then again, it was one of those days when one tells oneself, “it wouldn't be so bad to…”
And so I did. I got one book. And more. I’m hooked.
I have a soft spot for Poirot. He always seems to me to be a near-parody of Holmes. Holmes is enigmatic where Poirot is amusing; charismatic while Poirot’s a bit of a dandy, and Holmes’ twinkling eye is effectively replaced by the taut, sizeable moustache. Poirot’s a funny, likeable man; Holmes is the type you’d like to have an affair with. I can’t help the hunch that General Melchett is rather a reincarnation of Poirot (overlooking several obvious physical characteristic of the former, of course).
I don't even mind that my take on nursery rhymes is forever altered. :D
2 comments:
Hey - that's nice! I mean that you got hooked to AC. I too have a fondness for her writing- simple, easy to understand, characters (even if stereotyped) that I could relate to, and more than a couple of hours of carefree freedom from the daily drudgery. Personally, I liked Miss Marple, because several grand-aunts that I know of share her traits.
PS: Have you read AC's 'romantic' novels? I wouldn't really call them romantic, but rather introspective. Sample Absent in the Spring. She wrote them (6) under the name Mary Westmacott.
visitor -
thanks. Haven't read the non-detective ones; will try. And lucky you, with Marples in the family!
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