My favorite TV shows aren’t so popular. At least not among my friends. It’s a good thing because I don’t have to care about them posting spoilers and complaints re: HIMYM, Breaking Bad, Orange is the New Black and GOT on my social media feed.
My kind of shows are murder mysteries especially period ones. I love Bones, Sherlock, Murdoch Mysteries and Hercule Poirot series. There’s just something about the protagonists in these stories: their intelligence, their powers of observation and their quirky personalities. Perhaps the quirkiest is Mr. Hercule Poirot. He is described as a short Frenchman Belgian with a distinct mustache and an egg shaped face. Watching the episodes is fun but reading the books prove to be even better. My mom bought a wack of them at a thrift store. A steal at 25 cents each! A wonderful steal! Can you tell I am as giddy as a child with candy?
|image from http://www.programme.tv|
I’ve said before that short stories are a good introduction to an author if reading novels feel too cumbersome. In my opinion, mystery novels are amazing solutions to boredom and the need to finish a book. Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot mysteries aren’t so long, less than 300 pages of a standard sized paperbound. I’d flip page after page excited to find out who the culprit was. Reading should be fun. We’ll occasionally pick up Dante’s Inferno, Marquez’s Memories of a Melancholy Whore or what have you. But really, I’d much rather read these mysteries. I mean if we weren’t trying to impress anyone, wouldn’t we order strawberry daiquiris all the time?*