The Tuesday Club Murders by Agatha Cristie
] [This turned out to be a collection of short stories and, as such, is not a favorite of mine as I’m not a big fan of the genre. A bunch of people get together and each tells a “mystery” story to which only the teller knows the answer. The teller and, of course, Miss Marple, who guesses each one correctly.
If you ever need an explanation of why Cristie wrote so few Marple stories compared with, say, Poirot, this will answer the question. Miss Marple stories are all a bit samey. And in this format, it really shows through. “Talk, talk, talk. The butler did it.” You can tell that even Cristie tires of her as the last of the stories doesn’t involve her at all. A murder is committed, Miss Marple deduces whodunit, goes to a member of the Tueday Night group, and writes the murderer’s name of a piece of paper and leaves him to investigate. Of course, she’s right about the murderer. Of course, she’s right about the wrong man being framed. It’s really sort of tedious.
