And Then There Were None
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There Were None To Equal It
(A Book Review of Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None)
For want of something different other from the traditional fare of Christmas season’s readings during the previous year did I venture forth with my first Agatha Christie, And Then Were None, offering a bewildering ride that indeed while away the humdrum of my week-long sabbatical.
The book begins with ten people, complete strangers to one another, who are invited by means of a carefully worded letter by some distant acquaintance in the past, or through an unknown business undertaking, to an excursion to Indian Island — a location off the coast on the province of Devon that has been the object of newspaper gossip lately. Each has a strong purpose to comply with the strange request. Each has reasons of their own for desiring a place far away from home.
On the island, the visitors were distressed by the absence of their host and only the servants to greet them upon their arrival. Queer goings on set afoot during the guests’ dinner when a mysterious recording reveals crime they have allegedly committed. It doesn’t take long for each of them to gather that this quiet sojourn is not what it seems as each of them are hunted down by a cunning murderer whose pattern for killing is inspired by an innocent nursery rhyme hanging over the fireplace.