Review: Jamaica Inn by Daphne du Maurier

Jamaica Inn is the most guilty-pleasure-y of the Daphne du Maurier books I’ve read. The romantic and melodramatic elements are over the top; it’s salacious, it’s predictable, and yet it’s so entertaining. That said, I don’t want to knock it too hard for its cliched elements as some of the set pieces might have been less tired 1936. You may see the end coming a mile away, but you’ll want to keep reading. For a book whose problems could be easily solved by a cell-phone , it has aged astonishingly well. read more

Review: How Right You Are, Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse

What every new year needs: a little fun with Jeeves and Wooster! From the back cover:

Jeeves is infallible. Jeeves is indispensable. Unfortunately, in How Right You Are, Jeeves, he is also in absentia. In this wonderful slice of Woosterian mayhem, Bertie has sent that prince among gentlemen’s gentlemen off on his annual vacation. Soon, drowning dachshunds, broken engagements, and inextricable complications lead to the only possible conclusion: “We must put our trust in a higher power. Go and fetch Jeeves!”

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Review: And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie

I’m too new to Agatha Christie to have an opinion on her “best” story, but I prefer And Then There Were None to Murder on the Orient Express. The former is a standalone mystery that doesn’t require previous knowledge of Poirot or Miss Marple which makes it immediately accessible to a new reader. I wasn’t left to wonder if I was missing something by starting in the middle with an established character. [Note: This book was previously titled Ten Little Indians and set on Indian Island. Later editions, like mine, are titled And Then There Were None and set on Soldier Island.] read more

Review: Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie

I made it to my 30s before reading a book by Agatha Christie. Why did I wait? No idea. My high-school self would have loved Murder on the Orient Express. As much as I enjoyed Sherlock Holmes, I resented when a case was solved via clues that weren’t accessible to the reader. Unlike Arthur Conan Doyle, Christie lets the reader play along.

From the back cover:
Just after midnight, the famous Orient Express is stopped in its tracks by a snowdrift. By morning, the millionaire Samuel Edward Ratchett lies dead in his compartment, stabbed a dozen times, his door locked from the inside. One of his fellow passengers must be the murderer.

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