Death on the Nile

Here it is. Inevitable, in a way. After all that Sherlock Holmes, after Benjamin Stevenson and Stuart Turton. Golden Age detective fiction.

Agatha Christie's Death on the Nile follows Belgian detective Hercule Poirot on his 17th adventure. We find him in Egypt after a foreshadowing scene, where he is approached by a newlywed couple in the middle of a love triangle, the rich wife and her new husband are frightened that her old friend, and his ex-lover, is stalking them, and they fear she has worse in plan.

Along with Poirot's friend and sidekick - for this book at least - Colonel Race, they board a steam ship up the nile, and the rich wife is bloodily murdered. The jealous ex-lover? Accounted for the whole time.

What follows is a twisting narrative of investigation, suspects, clues and the perfect crescendo - the scene where the detective explains all.

Poirot is a great example of the quirky detective. Neat and clean, big-headed, wise, sharp, but a great and compassionate friend. In contrast to Sherlock Holmes, who's always looking for the only possible solution from the evidence, Mr Poirot looks at psychology, motive and behaviour, a refreshing change.

I believe this is amongst the most perfect of books for starting crime fiction readers. The cast is broad enough that I was starting to lost track just a bit, but each colourful has their motives and suspicions. For someone like me who isn't really a guess-the-ending type, I was very happy just to go along for the ride.

I didn't expect such a death toll here, there are no less than 5 bodies in the near-300 pages. The ending was shocking and satisfying and tragic.

I will be reading more Poirot soon.