Magpie Murders (Susan Ryeland, #1)

by Anthony Horowitz

I can’t even remember who said it, but the only way that book was going to change someone’s life was if it fell on them.

He had a particular liking for olde England, especially if the olde was spelled with an e.

Whodunnits are all about truth: nothing more, nothing less. In a world full of uncertainties, is it not inherently satisfying to come to the last page with every i dotted and every t crossed? The stories mimic our experience in the world. We are surrounded by tensions and ambiguities, which we spend half our life trying to resolve, and we’ll probably be on our own deathbed when we reach that moment when everything makes sense. Just about every whodunnit provides that pleasure. It is the reason for their existence.