Monday, October 31, 2016

At Bertram's Hotel, Agatha Christie (1965)

This marks my first exposure to Miss Marple. Christie had to have been 74 or 75 years old when she wrote this, so it's fitting that her protagonist is a retired widow who'll remind you of a quaint but savvy grandmother. In my case, she reminds me vaguely of an aunt from my youth – a retired marm with silver hair in a bun and eyes and wit as sharp as aged cheddar. After the first couple of chapters, I thought I'd made a mistake grabbing this book. Miss Marple isn't as engaging to me as, say, Doyle's Sherlock Holmes or Christie's Hercule Poirot, but it got better fast, though with far more dialogue than narrative. Which is fine but not my preference. Four out of five stars. G

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Lies We Tell Ourselves, Sir Mosy Prank

With the Christmas holidays fast approaching, I’ve been particularly busy at work, and the additional hours have cut into my writing time. I...