Agatha Christie still sells books after her death. In fact, the only books selling more widely than hers are the works of Shakespeare and The Holy Bible. She’s been called the queen of her genre. And that’s fitting because her stories for the most part are well-told. I’m a fan of the Poirot mysteries, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd being my favorite.
With And Then There Were None, she takes us to Soldier Island to figure out the murders of ten individuals as they ‘disappear’ according to a childhood rhyme. The mystery keeps us guessing and I was surprised at the end.
However, Christie tends to tie things up in a bow at the end and the device wearies me sometimes. The actual story with the characters dying one after the other kept me going. Then … well, I don’t write spoilers into my reviews. Even though I liked the ending, I’m not so sure I like how she wrote it.
But it is indeed a twist that reminds me of the Ackroyd mystery. Pretty slick.
I wouldn’t keep reading Christie’s mysteries if I didn’t enjoy them. For that matter, neither would millions of other readers. I’m glad I don’t have to review the actual writing, (just the story) because some of it is horrible. Eyes don’t ‘land’ on anything unless they’re falling out of your head. That’s only one example of writing that distracts me; for the sake of the story itself, I chuckle and move on. If I ever as a writer become as prolific as Christie, or if people begin paying me for reviews, then I suppose my ‘learned’ comments on writing will be more welcome.
This particular novel was originally published as Ten Little Indians and has been adapted for the stage and screen. I saw a version of it on television decades ago and enjoyed the story then as well. All in all, it’s a fun read.