The Murder of Roger Ackroyd

⚖The case for it

Poirot has retired to King’s Abbot to grow outsized vegetable marrows, which is the funniest entrance he ever makes, and every household in the village is hiding something worth hiding. The plotting is economical and the suspect pool wide enough to keep you switching your guess by the chapter. What readers say afterwards is “She got me! That cheeky beeotch!” and “you will not guess who the murderer is, never ever ever,” and then most of them turn straight back to page one. Caroline Sheppard steals every scene she is in. “I ended up staying up until 2 AM finishing the end.”

— the honest librarian

✕The case against

The objection that started in 1926 has never stopped, and it is about fair play: readers who feel a mystery owes them an equal shot come away feeling out-manoeuvred rather than beaten. A century of imitators has also made attentive readers warier than Christie’s first audience, and some report “I can’t lie I predicted this so early into the book.” Underneath, the machinery is standard village-mystery furniture, with timetables and alibis one reader calls “nitpicky, and in my opinion ultimately unimportant.” The opening chapters take their time. “The style of writing wasn’t that easy to read.”

— the honest librarian

5h

honest hours

7

sittings