Here’s another book I thought I’d like but couldn’t get going with. I picked it up at the library to read over Christmas - it’s an Agatha Christie pastiche sort of a thing, set in a snowed in manor on Boxing Day. I gave it 50 pages to grab me before I took it back to the library on a snowy February weekend. It delivered on about page 45 and turned into another book I wanted to read to the end without putting it down.

It’s full of clever word plays and insights into the Christie stereotypes, but mostly I feel like I probably missed a lot of them. I wonder if I’d have been just as happy reading a real Agatha Christie and not worrying about what was going over my head. It was fun alright, but I felt that was mostly because the genre it’s taking the mickey out of is fun rather than being fun in its own right.