Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Murder in Three Acts by Agatha Christie (1934)

Murder in Three Acts, a.k.a. Three Act Tragedy, almost kept me guessing until the very end.  It's a rare Christie I had not read (of if I read it, it was only once, and so long ago I didn't remember anything about it).  It was a trip down memory lane in two senses:  what it must have been like in 1934 to have bought this brand new, and also what it was like in seventh grade to be reading an Agatha Christie for the first time myself.  I still remmeber the sense of horror I felt about And Then There Were None or the pleasant completeness of Murder on the Orient Express.  The multiple red herrings made guessing the whodunnit  deliciously difficult.  At various times, I thought the murderer was everyone but Hercule Poirot (and if you know your Christie, even that's a possibility - I think there is one at the very end of her career where he is the whodunnit).  The motive stinks though - really disappointing.  The U.K. edition had a completely different motive, which made far more sense (and was one I thought of, only about another character).  They always change the Christie titles for reasons I can't fathom; changing the motive makes no sense (some sense of it was made here, but it's still a dumb reason to change the motive).

Murder In Three ActsMurder In Three Acts by Agatha Christie
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Dame Agatha kept me guessing the murderer almost to the very end. A sea of red herrings made me change my mind about whodunnit several times; the only one I didn't suspect was Hercule Poirot himself. I will quibble a bit about the ending - no spoilers though. The American edition and the U.K. edition have slightly different endings (thank you Internets); the U.K. ending sounds way more plausible. Still, I was happy. I read a vintage paperback that smelled of attic, with a cool artistic cover, and neat-looking old font.


View all my reviews



No comments:

Post a Comment

Blog Archive

Followers