When I was younger, I enjoyed Agatha Christie novels because I felt so close to figuring it out every time. Of course I never did, but it was that feeling that was the trick.
That feeling of being right there, witnessing people and actions, forming your own theory. You weren’t merely being pulled along by the story but helping to solve it.
Seven Deaths is an ambitious whodunit; a web of people and timelines, motifs and lurking creatures.
It comes together in a satisfying way, but I was just along for the ride. I gave up trying to solve it myself.
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