Once again, I only read two books this week. And sadly neither one was (what I would consider) good. The better one is Agatha Christie's The Clocks featuring Hercule Poirot. I'm not a big fan of Poirot. In fact most people I know either love him or hate him (if they know who he is at all). I find that my feelings tend toward I-love-to-hate-him.
Clocks is classic Poirot. He solves a ridiculously far-fetched murder so smugly, it makes him easy to hate. The redeeming factor in the story is Colin Lamb and his "work for the government." The secondary story line was weaker, but more entertaining.
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