If you confront anyone who has lied with the truth, he will usually admit it – often out of sheer surprise.

Inspired by the recent movie adaptation I figured I should finally pick this book up and read it. I… can’t think of a single thing to say about it, except to say that I feel like a bad person for not liking it more. I tried, I really did, but I honestly think this is one of those books that only works if you don’t know the ending. As the ending of the book is one of the most famous who-done-it twists in all of murder mystery that train has long since left the station. (do you see what I did there? DO YOU?) I can’t say I have a whole lot of familiarity with Christie’s work. I really loved And Then There Were None, the building of psychological tension, as one by one the players were slowly eliminated, terrified a twenty year old me. This one, I just kind of read to get through it.

I’m like 900% sure that every single person reading this is familiar with the plot of this book, but HA I’m going to give it to you anyway. The famous detective Hercule Poirot finds himself needing to take the train for reasons. For some reason, despite the winter season, the train is unusually full but he gets a berth anyway. One night the train is derailed because of snow and in the morning when everyone wakes up they discover that ooppps one of the passengers was murdered in the night. The train conductor asks Poirot to investigate the murder. As there were no tracks in the snow, the murderer must be one of the passengers, but who? And why?

Like I said, I didn’t really enjoy this much. It was fine, I guess. I was a little bored while I read I, to be honest. I’m not super excited to pick up another one of Agatha Christie’s novels.