I haven’t read much Agatha Christie. It’s not because I dislike
her work, as many people I know do, but it’s probably because I’ve never really
felt like reading about her. I alays presumed her midlife crisis was much more
interesting than anything she actually wrote about. The books I have read were
good enough that I should really pay more attention to her canon. I read
The Moving Finger, more than two years
ago, and it was the second Agatha Christie book I’d ever read- the first being
And Then There Were none, the book which
number of title changes could give Snoop Lion a run for his money-
but before I stray to far, read a summary and
review after the jump.
