Oh, dear Agatha, how I loved this story!
You brought Satterthwaite back from The Mysterious Mr. Quin. He makes a great protagonist. I love how you capture his essence so well.
This made me smile: "'It's the Only Thing to Do,' he said, obviously speaking in capital letters." It reminds me of a common texting trend right now. We might say: It's the Only. Thing. To. Do.
In chapter 13, Mrs. Babbington is interviewed. I was so moved by her sincere love for her husband and the way that she described their marriage. Your writing absolutely made me hurt for her loss... and then I worried through the next 14 chapters that it was all a lie and she would be found to be the killer! (I should've known to put my mind at ease because even when I think I'm being sly and I have it figured out, I don't. I kind of wondered if one of the investigating team was involved, but I leaned more heavily toward another in that team than the actual.)
Dame Agatha, I thought you used the theater trope perfectly. From the title, to the text divisions, to the main character being an actor who seems to go in and out of character throughout the story... it was delightful. And to continue your metaphor, Monsieur Poirot lingers backstage for more than half the novel, then comes in and steals the show.
I did keep wondering when Poirot was going to show up! That said, I thought watching Egg, Charles, and Satterthwaite do much of the investigating was very different from your typical pattern. I don't know how you do it, actually - coming up with such completely different stories with all of the books you've published.
Amazeballs.
And, Agatha, the final words of the novel sure left me with a smile on my face:
"My goodness," (Satterthwaite) cried, "I've only just realized it! That rascal, with his poisoned cocktail! Anyone might have drunk it! It might have been me!"
"There is an even more terrible possibility that you have not considered," said Poirot.
"Eh?"
"It might have been me," said Hercule Poirot.
Amazeballs.
And, Agatha, the final words of the novel sure left me with a smile on my face:
"My goodness," (Satterthwaite) cried, "I've only just realized it! That rascal, with his poisoned cocktail! Anyone might have drunk it! It might have been me!"
"There is an even more terrible possibility that you have not considered," said Poirot.
"Eh?"
"It might have been me," said Hercule Poirot.
On a personal note, Murder on the Orient Express comes out this weekend on the big screen. My Beth friend and Christianne are both reading that. Josh is in possession of Roger Ackroyd, Grace has Peril at End House, Ro has Listerdale. I am getting a little twitchy with all my children in the possession of others.
Always in admiration,
Always in admiration,
Beth
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