Friday, July 6

36. Sad Cypress (1940)

How do I love thee, Dear Agatha? Let me count the ways...

I mean, really... there must be a thousand reasons why I love to read your "detective fiction."  (One is that you often refer to your characters reading too much of it.  It always makes me chuckle.)

This book was a quick read that took me awhile.  I have been away from Christies for some time, trying to finish the wonderful but oh-so-verbose The Lord of the Rings.  I'm headed out of town in a couple of weeks.  I might take a book with me but was leading toward reading some of the stuff on my Kindle instead - traveling lighter, I guess.  We shall see.  But back to Sad Cypress.

Five stars, Dame Agatha! because you snuck up on me and surprised me yet again.

I loved the connection to roses and The War of... I loved the mentions of current movies at the time.  I loved the tension between love and happiness and how both might not be found in the same person.  (And I'm glad, for I didn't necessarily love the character that Elinor loved.)  I loved this slightly different format - Poirot didn't gather all the involved into a study to explain how it all worked out. He was present and brilliant and saved the day, *and* he answered questions in the final chapter, but it was still different from before.

Loved every page, dear Agatha.  Thanks again.

Beth

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