If you’re not already aware, this purports to be an Hercule Poirot novel written by someone other than Agatha Christie, and ehhhhhhh I don’t know. It always strikes me as a weird choice to make. I mean, sure, you’ll sell books to idiots like me who can’t help themselves, but you know you’re going to be compared to someone much more famous and probably more beloved, and unless you really nail it, it’s always going to be judged a failure. Just come up with your own campy foreign eccentric and have your work assessed on its own merits. Continue reading The Monogram Murders