Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie

☆☆☆☆This review contains spoilers☆☆☆☆

Hercule Poirot solves yet another murder that flourishes in his general vicinity, an occurrence that happens quite frequently. Should authorities engage in the deliverance of Poirot to an abandoned island to save the humanity around him?
Certain individuals may attract the dark side in unsuspecting humans, forcing their minds with a murderer's logic to kill, though the "certain individuals" appear guiltless of their power.
This brings to mind, Stephen King's television show called Haven--a town of people who innocently have "The Troubles," which harm others around them in a myriad of ways.
Poirot would not hesitate in adjusting his address to a remote location if murders occurred from his continued existence amid the populace. Though, when a challenging murder case hasn't presented itself for him to solve, boredom steps in for Poirot, as he has a need to continually exercise his little gray cells. He lives in a paradoxical world--detesting the actual deed that conveys contentment to his brain using order, method and psychology.

Traveling on the Orient Express, through the snowy night from Istanbul towards its long trek across Europe, officials wake Poirot to impart the news concerning a fellow  passenger's murder. His famous gray cells embark on a journey of truth as he delves into an investigation.
The Perp left twelve stab wounds on the Vic (wrong time period), implicating specific passengers. Delving further in pursuit, Poirot inserts additional people in the guilty spotlight, until the number of suspects match the twelve marks on the body. Poirot imparts two outcomes, one sets the group free and the second delivers the twelve to the gallows.

Netflix contains twelve seasons of Agatha's Poirot, displaying several of her short stories and an occasional novel.  It's impossible for each episode to follow a strict formula capturing the exact story line, and the episode of Murder on the Orient Express fails on all levels.
Poirot appears without a human soul, exclusively empty of empathy or compassion. This horrid human being, watching a woman stoned to death for adultery (this scene in Istanbul doesn't appear in the book), states nonchalantly she knew the consequences for such actions, therefore the fault belongs to her alone.
Poirot's anger at the end lacks intelligence or wisdom, and the script writer's delivery to the back lot for a beat down would bring a smile to the heart of a multitude (or a few) of Christie's fans.

Christie's opinion toward Poirot emanates puzzling reflections--she states he's a "detestable, bombastic, tiresome, ego-centric little creep."
Arrogance depicts his extreme personality fault, and forced to stay in his near proximity on a daily basis, might prove tiresome, yet a creep--it's not in his job description.
It's understandable that an author's capacity of exhausting a continuing story line might possibly assert feelings of animosity which taxes her soul. Killing the beast wasn't an option, and remarkably she kept trudging along for her fans close to sixty years.

A recurring character, named Ariadne Oliver, appears in several books with Poirot. Oliver, who personifies Christie, writes a series of books which feature a Finnish detective named Sven Hjerson.
Oliver detests her creation, and she repeatedly complains of writing situations which generate enormous difficulties for Hjerson in concluding his cases.
Christie's apathy for Poirot mirrors Oliver's loathing of Hjerson, and declaring her emotions through an imaginary identity is brilliant.


Even though this isn't my favorite book starring Poirot, it's still interesting enough to continue rereading every couple of years.

The Orient Express existed in reality as well as fiction. The train line operated continuously for over one hundred years. Various  revisions of travel destinations altered over time, though significantly the route started or ended in Istanbul.
The train offered high-class rooms, food and service. The thought of eating in the dining car, sleeping in a little room with a bed that a porter sets up every night and sightseeing through countries still largely untouched by western influences impresses the need for time travel.
I would still love to travel with Poirot in the 1930's, though there may appear a temptation  to shave off his little friend (mustache). Would his face appear in public until it grew out?
Of course, his wrath could consume me and I would be exiled from his life--my plans to shave it off would change to appearing in my daydreams.

Peril at End House by Agatha Christie

☆☆☆☆This review contains spoilers☆☆☆☆

The difficulty in making Hercule Poirot one's dupe is that he's too smart for anyone to outwit. There will always be those criminal elements who think too highly of themselves and decide they can pull it off. This will always conclude in failure for their little murdering souls and another success for the honored Poirot.

Nick, our little protagonist, parties 1930's style--she's a young woman who may soon succumb to a murder's desire to see her dead. The reason for her aspired death is a mystery for she hasn't any money or enemies. When Poirot meets her at his hotel on holiday, he finds out that several attempts on her life have failed, and proposes to keep her safe while finding the murderer before the murder actually takes place.

He tells her to send for her cousin Maggie whose constant presence should function as a deterrent against the killer. Tragedy strikes the first night she arrives when the killer believes she is Nick and the sound of the shot, hidden by local fireworks, finds its mark.

Nick's shawl, worn by Maggie, throws the killer off and the wrong woman is shot. Poirot is devasted that this should happen when he promised protection. A nursing home appears the safest place for Nick though the murderer attempts another success by sending chocolate filled with cocaine.

During the course of the investigation, Poirot finds love letters from Nick's fiance who recently died, leaving Nick a rich woman. Finally, he is able to put the facts together and takes the action he loves, assembling everyone suspected together to tell the identity of the killer. He does this for suspense and to show off his wondrous gray cells.

We find out that Nick isn't a sweet person after all, and she killed her cousin and pretended all the other attempts on her life happened. She overdosed on the cocaine by her own hand and put the gun used to kill Maggie in her best friend's coat. She did all this for the same reason many people kill--for the money.

Nick and Maggie share the same first name of Magdala, so when Nick found love letters from the famous and rich fiance to her cousin, she claimed them as her own. Who would know the difference, since the engagement had been a secret.

Yet again, Poirot allows a suicide for the wrongdoer, so there's not a need to face hanging. Yikes, hanging seems so archaic, but eight women died this way in the US and England in the 1930's.

This is one of Christie's best since no one can guess who the real culprit is though I must say I had my suspensions early on. I'm still hoping that one day I can go to the world of the make-believe past, and become Poirot's sidekick. Hmm, but would there arise the need to kill Hastings. Mon Ami, mais oui c'est possible--pauvre Hastings.

The Mystery Of The Blue Train by Agatha Christie

Oh, those little gray cells of Hercule Poirot's. I have a yearning to be Poirot's sidekick, and travel the world of the 1930's with him. To think of the mysteries we could solve, and the amusements we could have (purely platonic, of course, since I'm not sure anyone could find his egg-shaped head and his attention to his mustache desirable), but there would be those pesky murders to attend to that seem to follow Poirot around like a lost dog.

Poirot is traveling to the Riviera for Holiday, and to no one's surprise (at least not to me), a murder happens on the very train that he is traveling on. He decides to help out the police in the investigation--sometimes he says no, I'm retired, and other times he is more than willing to donate his time and gray cells to the effort of finding a dastardly killer.

There is a lesson here on spoiling our kids and giving them too much stuff, no matter what their age.
Ruth Kettering is found dead on the train with her face smashed in and all her jewelry missing, including a new piece that her father bought her, and the act of his generosity, motivates the killer and brings about her death.

Christie has a way of bringing together people who at first seem so far apart from one another in distance and temperament. Several other people are on the train with the victim--her estranged husband, his former mistress, a woman until recently was quite poor, and Poirot.
She blends lives together until new love forms in the hearts of two, and the most sadistic murderer is found out.
This is not a fast-paced book, but so worth the patience and time.

The Murder Of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie

This review may have frequent spoilers, so please be cautious in reading if you want to be surprised by who the murderer is.

This is not one of my favorite books by Christie, but still it's quite interesting.
This is a reread for me, and I was quite surprised how often the clues actually pointed to the murderer, yet I didn't see it during the first read.

One trick she uses to throw us off is that the entire story is told by a journal written by the doctor of the village. He helps Poirot a great deal, so I was thrown off that it could ever be him, especially since Poirot always tells the doctor that he reminds him of his dear Hastings. 
I'm always shocked that characters that I trust or even love are so evil, or can turn evil under the correct circumstances. I always want there to be good in people, but that's not the truth in fiction or reality.

The old staging of all the people who could be involved in a murder is so cliche.

The detective walks around the room, accusing every, and then to their relief, giving the reason that it could be them, but they are safe.
Finally, the real perp tries to run away, but there is police at all the exits, and then the true evil, lurking inside, is revealed.
This book didn't end that way, since after the group of accused leave, Poirot allows the murderer to leave for his home and commit suicide to save the reputation of his sister in such a small community. 
This would not be allowed today--suicide must not have been such a severe action during that time as it is currently.

I read countless zombie books so that a slow read such as this, is much appreciated.