After my recent Alex Cross-athon, I felt I needed a palate cleanser. And what better, than to re-read some old favorites, by the grande dame of mystery herself, Agatha Christie? I first discovered Christie when I was about 10 or 11, prowling through my mother's bookcases for something to read. I guess I had exhausted whatever I had taken home from the Bookmobile - probably Louisa May Alcott's Eight Cousins or a collection of folktales. The first Christie I read was The Moving Finger. I still have my mom's paperback, with its lurid purple cover illustration.
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