Just after midnight, the famous Orient Express is stopped in its tracks by a snowdrift. By morning, the millionaire Samuel Ratchett lies dead in his compartment, stabbed a dozen times, his door locked from the inside. One of his fellow passengers must be the murderer.
Isolated by the storm and with a killer in their midst, detective Hercule Poirot must find the killer amongst a dozen of the dead man’s enemies, before the murderer decides to strike again…
I had a friend in college who LOVED Agatha Christie. She had a whole collection of the old who-dun-its. I hadn’t heard of them before then, but they’ve been on my list ever since. It seems so long ago now, but since Murder on the Orient Express is being made into a movie, I figured now is a good time to finally pop that cherry!
I certainly see the appeal of these. They are the epitome of a murder mystery–the set up, the discovery, the investigation, the reveal. Unfortunately…I was bored.out.of.my.miiiiiiiiiiiiind. There were several moments where I almost stopped so I could watch the movie without knowing who actually dun it.
But, I persevered. I wanted to read at least one Agatha Christie, just to say I did. And I never did guess the ending. Maybe because I just couldn’t bring myself to care? I dunno. Unpopular Opinion Alert.
Also, everyone on the train was so offended by each other. Americans, English, French–everyone was “foreign” to each other, while they were literally on the Orient Express train…with a total lack of POC from the actual nations they were traveling through. It really made me roll my eyes.
Probably will never read another Agatha Christie novel again, and that’s ok with me.