Lord Edgware Dies by Agatha ChristieMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
Agatha Christie almost always fools me and this novel is no exception. I try so hard, just like Arthur Hastings, and I have just as much luck as him. Poor Hastings, Christie writes him so thick headed, stubborn, and easily misled. I also wonder how he can spend so much time in England and away from his wife and financial life in Argentina. But that's beside the point, I guess.
Between Hastings and Japp, the two of them allow Poirot to explain his theories to the reader. Poirot may use the little grey cells a lot, but there's no easy way for us to appreciate his virtuosity without an audience. Hastings may doubt his friend's sanity or debate with Japp if Poirot is past his best-before date, seemingly during every book. But you would think after eight installments he would have learned that his own instincts were off kilter. Poirot realizes it and tells his sidekick that he judges what the murderer is trying to make Poirot believe by what Hastings believes. Hastings is convinced every time by the killer's ruses.
I never feel like I can discuss the details of the plot for fear of spoiling things for readers who are more attentive to detail than I am. But I do think I can safely say that Hastings represents the common, conservative Englishman in Christie's books. Completely and erroneously convinced of their own superiority despite all the evidence to the contrary.
I enjoy matching wits with Ms Christie and I'm always entertained by the twisty path that she leads me on while on the way to the solution. I think I am more pleased with being hoodwinked than I have been on the rare occasions when I anticipated the correct answer.
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