I wasn’t going to re-read another Christie, but I didn’t really feel up to doing anything much, so here we are.
I didn’t remember the plot of this at all, and it’s a doozy. While reading, I was going through all permutations of who the killer could be — from an evidentiary point of view, and from a structural point of view, and I failed miserably.
‘Pure pleasure’ was how the author described the writing of this, which was long planned, and remained one of her favourites.
And I see why, but perhaps that also explains why it goes on a bit too long, perhaps? I mean, it’s all fun, but it feels pretty static.
Crooked House (1949) by Agatha Christie (buy used, 4.08 on Goodreads)