One of my early year reads: an easy one to keep up with amongst all the festive and travel shenanigans.
Ariadne Oliver and Hercule Poirot join forces in this tale of a murder mystery game gone wrong. Predictable in parts, there’s an interesting cast of characters and a satisfying landscape to keep you interested.
In many ways a classic Christie, there’s the usual suspects present here – a mysterious outsider, dark personal histories, a beautiful house and gardens, a summer fête, and timing problems.
Yet I also feel there was quite a lot of cattiness and satire in this one, maybe more than usual? The tone was quite biting, and there’s some sending up of the idea of distrusting outsiders in small communities and unfounded xenophohia.
One word: sardonic.
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