Agatha Christie, one of my first introductions to and great loves in the crime fiction world. My first Agatha love was Miss Marple. I wanted to be Miss Marple. I still want to be Miss Marple and live in a quiet English village that seethes with life under the pastoral surface. I want to sit in my cottage and knit and drink tea and damson gin and figure things out.
My love for Hercule Poirot came later. I didn't much like him at first. He was so fussy, so self-important. But now I adore him. He's not fussy, he's precise. And he's self-important because he's brilliant and honest and just. All good reasons to be full of yourself. I think David Suchet's portrayal of Poirot (Poirtrayal? Yes?) had much to do with my change of heart. There's such warmth and kindness in him. I see him as Poirot in my brain now and I can only feel that's a good thing.
Agatha has done other things besides Poirot and Marple, of course. I've read some Tommy and Tuppence and loved it. I love "And Then There Were None" (hey, another "A"!) even though I can't think on it too much or I creep myself out. I love "Mousetrap". I plan to read her spy stuff later this year and have every plan of loving it.
But first, there was Marple. First, last, and always, there will be Marple. Marple and Agatha.