The Queen Of Crime

As a little lad I always thought that Agatha Christie must be up there in the very top rank of writers. My mother and sister read her with a passion and I can remember reading a battered paperback of Lord Edgware Dies that had seemed to hang around the house for ages (and very unusually so since we just didn't have books, other than those from the library, in the house) feeling very grown up to do so. And very frustrated that I couldn't work out whodunnit, not quite realising that that was the whole point of the exercise.

Over the years I came to read a few of her books, but my main exposure to the oeuvre has been through movies and tv series, which seems to me to be appropriate in this case. It's been a long time since I read an actual novel and I was thinking I'd correct the omission, and perhaps reassess her qualities as a writer when I came across a cheapo cheapo second hand copy of Curtain: Poirot's Last Case the other day at Bras Basah. Today was a golden opportunity to read what seems to me a thoroughly entertaining, professional performance, with more wit than I expected or remembered - but little else. Very theatrical - most appropriately so, given the title. It's easy to see why she translates so well to the stage and screen.

So not there in the top rank by a long, long way. But distinctly in a league of her own. Not a bad place to be.