Most of my friends tend to read YA, usually fantasy. But me? I’m addicted to murder mysteries.
I do, I love them. I think that a good mystery is the most difficult to write. To create a plot that is wildly unpredictable yet brilliantly and seamlessly crafted, it takes a certain kind of genius. I live for that shit.
Trying to solve a mystery as it unfolds is half the fun, and I can’t lie, I get such satisfaction out of figuring out the majority before the grand reveal. But nothing can beat the frustration and then awe when you are hopelessly lost and then click, it all falls into place.
And, y’all… Agatha Christie is known as the Queen of Mysteries for a reason.
I started reading Christie recently when I learned that she is the third best-selling author of all time, following only the Bible and Shakespeare. I love women who dominate!
So far, I’ve plowed through And Then There Were None and The Murder on the Orient Express, and man oh man, she does not disappoint. Both are completely genius. She tells her stories through mostly dialogue and characterization, and they are totally baffling until the end, when she pieces it all together in ways that make perfect, ridiculous sense. Her plots are wild, but that’s why they’re so magical. If they weren’t so grand, they wouldn’t be half as fun.
That all said, this woman was hella racist. It’s awful that a lot of people defend her just because they admire her; talent does not justify bigotry, nor does her generation. She therefore will never be a hero of mine, but her literary craft is impeccable! Someday I hope to be able to put together a story even 10% as good.