Reading The Labours of Hercules for another time before (you guessed it right!) I recycle it and declutter my ever-exploding book shelf. But I digress. Even though it has been a while since I last read Agatha Christie, her words still cast a spell on me, compelling me to read about the challenges Hercule Poirot undertakes.

Perhaps Hercule Poirot has always been compared to Sherlock Holmes, but to me, he occupies a distinctive top-of-mind space. He oozes with eccentricities - flexing his potent little grey cells, showing displeasure whenever someone expresses ignorable about his work, admiring the beauty of the female form, twirling his moustache, among others. To read about someone who is at the top of his profession and is supremely confident about his prowess enticed me greatly when I was a teenager.

Now, as I reread this book, it is with enhanced appreciation because I have learnt that Agatha Christie had dyslexia. This might or might not account for her intricate web of details her novels typically showcase. So elaborate, yet satisfyingly tied together like a ribbon on a birthday present. I was mindful enough to pick up some new vocabulary words this time round. Fusillade. Stupefaction. Odoriferous. I don’t think people use these words often in their speech or writing these days, so her word choice lends a quaint charm to her novels.

And on to you. Which detective are you enamoured with?