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Picture yourself on a Paris-bound train in the middle of a snow storm. Usually a vacant vehicle, this time of year, the Orient Express is rather full. Suspiciously full. All goes, crowdedly well until an unlikable, well-to-do American passenger is stabbed to death in his cabin.

Because of the snow, the train is stuck in the vast whiteness with no way on or off. This, of course, makes finding the culprit pretty easy. Or so one would think. The problem lies in the train’s passengers, all of whom seem to be guilty of one thing or another while also remaining frustratingly innocent.

This is the dilemma that meets detective Hercule Poirot on his journey home, one fateful winter night. One of the, now world famous, stars of Agatha Christie’s many novels Poirot is faced with a seriously puzzling issue in the middle of nowhere with no modern (or even modern for the 20’s) devices of detection.

This was a deliciously exciting story, oh man! I can’t believe I’ve held out on Christie for so long. Though the whole plot and outcome seemed totally out there (you’ll have to read it to believe it), it was awesome fun and very well built. For a little book, it’s seriously detailed and all of the pieces ended up fitting in perfectly.

I haven’t read anything else by Christie, yet, but I’d have to believe this would be a good place to start. I’m off to collect some more. I suggest that you do the same.