Lord Edgware Dies

This book starts with a premise that is pure gold. A famous American actress, Jane Wilkinson, tells Poirot she wants to "get rid" of her husband, the cruel Lord Edgware. A few hours later, he’s found stabbed in the neck. The catch? Jane was seen entering his house by several witnesses, but at the exact same time, she was attending a high-society dinner party with a dozen other people. It's the ultimate "How can she be in two places at once?" mystery.

But let’s get into the "bad" stuff. The middle of this book feels like Poirot is just running in circles. There’s a sub-plot involving a golden pince-nez and a bunch of minor characters who are honestly quite forgettable. Compared to the high-stakes drama of the opening, the investigation gets bogged down in a lot of "theatre talk" and red herrings that feel a bit forced just to pad the page count.

Also, Poirot himself admits he was "fooled" for most of the book, which might frustrate fans who like him to be ten steps ahead. The solution is very theatrical—literally. If you aren't paying attention to the specific personalities of the characters, the twist might feel like it came out of nowhere. It's a solid 1930s mystery, but it doesn't quite hit the legendary status of Orient Express or Roger Ackroyd.