The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie

 

I know it’s a classic. I know it’s widely considered one of the greatest detective novels of all time. But I avoided The Murder of Roger Ackroyd for years for one simple reason: I have a deep, abiding hatred for poorly executed unreliable narrators.

Ever since slogging through The Girl on the Train, where the unreliability felt more like a gimmick than a craft, I’ve been wary of books that pull the rug out from under the reader without earning it. So when I heard that Christie’s 1926 novel used that same device, revolutionary at the time but widely (and poorly, IMO) mimicked since, I hesitated. I assumed it would frustrate me. I assumed I’d see the trick coming and roll my eyes.

I was wrong.

Even going into Roger Ackroyd fully aware of its infamous twist, I found myself completely absorbed. Agatha Christie doesn’t use the unreliable narrator as a twist for the sake of shock. She builds a meticulously crafted mystery around it, planting clues with such elegance and restraint that the final reveal feels both astonishing and inevitable. The brilliance lies in how fair the novel is: the truth is there all along, hidden in plain sight. Unlike more modern thrillers that often blur the line between withholding and deceiving, Christie invites the reader to play detective alongside Poirot, and she respects our intelligence every step of the way.

The narrator, Dr. James Sheppard, is deceptively ordinary, his voice understated and self-effacing. Christie’s mastery is in how she uses that ordinariness to lull the reader into a false sense of security. When the truth clicks into place, it doesn’t feel like betrayal—it feels like revelation.

Yes, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd is a classic. But it’s also a masterclass in narrative control, subtle misdirection, and genre-defining innovation. If, like me, you’ve been burned by unreliable narrators before, don’t let that stop you from reading this one. Christie didn’t just do it first—she did it best.

I wanted to keep that momentum going and check out more versions of the story, so I checked out a screen adaptation.

In this feature-length episode of Agatha Christie’s Poirot (Season 7, Episode 1), Detective Hercule Poirot (David Suchet, the best Poirot, no argument) is drawn out of retirement to the quiet English village of King's Abbot after the sudden death of Mrs. Ferrars, who was suspected of poisoning her husband. When her fiancé, the wealthy Roger Ackroyd, is found murdered shortly afterward, the village is thrown into turmoil.

Poirot carefully investigates the secrets and lies of the Ackroyd household and their neighbors. As tensions rise and suspicions multiply, Poirot’s keen intellect uncovers shocking truths hidden beneath the surface of this seemingly peaceful community. The story culminates in a stunning and unforgettable twist that challenges everything the audience thought they knew. I think the adaptation remains faithful to the novel’s intricate plotting and suspenseful atmosphere, though there were some minor changes I noticed at the beginning, probably to make things more enticing on screen without the need for written explanation.

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After enjoying Agatha Christie’s The Murder of Roger Ackroyd—both the novel itself and the masterful David Suchet TV adaptation—I was intrigued to dive into Pierre Bayard’s Who Killed Roger Ackroyd? This book takes a daring, unconventional approach, re-examining the classic mystery and proposing an alternative solution to one of literature’s most famous whodunits.

Bayard’s work isn’t a straightforward sequel or a typical mystery novel. It's a playful and intellectual literary investigation that challenges the “official” narrative that Dr. Sheppard is the culprit, The author argues, through close textual analysis and imaginative interpretation, that Christie’s story leaves room for another, perhaps even more surprising, answer.

What makes Bayard’s book compelling is how it dialogues with both the original novel and adaptations like the David Suchet episode—works that have defined the mystery’s place in popular culture. While Christie’s novel and the TV version build tension toward that unforgettable twist, Bayard invites readers to reconsider their assumptions and engage more deeply with the text. His work highlights the fluid nature of storytelling and how mysteries can live beyond their original telling.

For fans of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd who want to explore beyond the classic detective story and delve into literary theory and alternative readings, Bayard’s book is a thought-provoking companion piece. It adds a fresh dimension to a mystery that has captivated readers and viewers for nearly a century.

Forever... by Judy Blume (Book + Show)

Forever... by Judy Blume

There are some stories that imprint on you long before you understood why. For me, Forever... by Judy Blume is one of those books. I first checked it out of the library when I was about nine (seriously) and practically wore out that copy by the time I was twelve. I always felt so clever getting it from the library—surely the librarians had no clue what this was really about!

Re-reading it as an adult, first in 2020 while taking Judy Blume's MasterClass, and again in July 2025 in anticipation of watching the Netflix adaptation, was both nostalgic and surprisingly fresh.

Honestly? It holds up. Even more than that—I love it more now, reading it as a grown woman and a parent. There's something powerful about how Blume writes a teenage love story with such clarity and compassion. It's tender, it's honest, and it doesn't moralize. Kath and Michael fall in love. They have sex. They break up. No one gets pregnant. No one dies. And life goes on.

I can remember countless (dated) books of teens having sex and having a baby, being forced to marry, etc. (Thinking of you, Mr and Mrs Bo Jo Jones.) While I do think it's important for teens to know possible consequences, I don't think only focusing on those negative outcomes in stories helps anyone. For that, Forever... was—and still is—refreshing. It allows its main character to explore sex and heartbreak without shame. That message felt radical when I was young, and it still feels rare today.

There is SO MUCH to see in every second of this show. I loved watching the pictures change during the opening credits of each episode.

 

I watched the Netflix adaptation after re-reading the book, and while it stays emotionally true to the original, it definitely updates and reshapes the story for a 2025 audience.

What Stayed the Same:

• Michael's signature mole on his cheek is still there (thank you, casting!). That's one thing that I remembered from the book over all these years, even before re-reading.
  
  

• The cozy New Year's Eve party and fondue scene made it into the show and felt like a direct lift from the book—nostalgic and warm.
  
  

What Changed:

• In the book, Kath and Michael meet for the first time at the party, but in the show, Keisha and Justin already know each other from childhood.
  
  

• They kiss on New Year's Eve in the show, which speeds up the emotional stakes right away.
  
  

• The show's version of Keisha is more experienced and confident, sexually and socially.
  
  

• Justin's family is portrayed as more emotionally stable and warm compared to the book, where Michael's parents are pretty absent, but his sister and brother-in-law are somewhat involved.
  
  

• The story is much more modern, with FaceTime calls, ADHD references, and other contemporary updates.
  
  

• Their relationship gets physical more quickly than in the novel, a nod to how teen relationships have changed (or how they're perceived to have changed) over the decades.
  
  

The show is a solid reimagining, but the book still holds a sacred place for me. It captures something timeless about first love—that intoxicating mix of intensity, idealism, and eventual unraveling. And it does so with respect for young people's intelligence and emotional depth. Even re-reading it as an adult, I was blown away by how the book captures those feelings and then, at the end, allows room for heartbreak, acceptance of change, and new beginnings, all at once.

Check out this article where Mara Brock Akil, the producer, shares a lot of her thoughts about the book and also insight into the show's creation. Watch the show for a contemporary spin, but definitely read—or re-read—the book for its quiet, enduring power. Because Forever... is a solid story about growing up, letting go, and realizing that the end of a relationship isn't the end of you.

The Office: A Day at Dunder Mifflin Elementary

The Office: A Day at Dunder Mifflin Elementary is by Robb Pearlman and illustrated by Melanie Demmer.

This book is a must-have for any fans of The Office, whether you have kids or not.

My son is too young to watch The Office with me, but he loved this book! It has a lot of inside jokes for fans, but still works as a stand-alone school story for kids.

Michael is chosen to be line leader for Ms. Levinson’s class, and he wants to be the best he can be! He won’t accept help from anyone, but he soon realizes he can’t handle everything on his own.

This book has callbacks to the show hidden in every illustration, so there’s an extra engaging aspect (for kids and their parents!). There’s also a fun bulletin board beneath the dust jacket, and the endpapers are super cute!

Learning How to Move Plot Along from TV Shows

One of my biggest problems with fiction writing has always been the plot. I have no problem creating characters and putting them in certain situations, but I often have trouble raising the stakes from there. Or I have trouble getting them out of problems I've created for them.

I've been reading less lately, which is not the best thing to admit on a book blog, but I'm happy to announce the shows I've been binging on Netflix has great plots that move right along and keep me hooked (hence the binging).

First up was Dead to Me on Netflix, at the recommendation of some coworkers. The concept was compelling enough, but the secrets revealed towards the end of each episode made for perfect cliffhangers. I know cliffhangers are necessary for shows, especially season finales, and sometimes for book chapters. But cliffhangers can be well done, or they can be so overly dramatic that, when they're resolved, you feel like you were duped. Like when the resolution turns out to not be a major plot point, but just a fake-out. And I think there were one or two of those in this show, but overall I felt like the use of suspense and slowly letting the viewer learn secrets was perfectly done. The season finale was also a nice balance of suspense, but believable events.

I recently saw that there will be a second season, though no date has been set yet. I'm eager to see what happens - and if you haven't seen the show yet, you have time to catch up before anything new is out!

After finishing Dead to Me and wanting more, More, MORE!, I turned to Good Girls.

Season one of this show is on Netflix, and I recommend you watch it... but try to have a way to watch season two, because you'll be hooked and wanting more! I was able to watch a few episodes of season two through a friend's on demand account, but now I need more! The last few episodes of season two are on Hulu, but I haven't been able to find 1-8 on any streaming service.

Viewing difficulties aside, this show is amazing. It's a little more over the top to me - it's somewhat realistic, but three women planning a major robbery and getting away with it (to the point I've seen, anyway), is a little tough for me to believe just because there were so many witnesses and secrets coming out. Once the gang gets involved, things get a little more unbelievable for me, but I love the show so much I'm more than happy to suspend my disbelief and escape into their crazy world for a binge.

I love the balance of humor, crime, and mystery, which makes me think of Sue Grafton's Kinsey Milhone series or the early books in Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series. I like serious dramas sometimes, but the humor in Good Girls is perfectly timed and dry, and always elicits a genuine laugh from me. I love humor and comedy, period, and have typically attempted to use it in my own writing, but felt like it was hard to pick up on unless someone shared my sense of humor. This show helps me see that it's always worth adding humor, and if someone gets it, they get it. If not, it's just over their heads - it doesn't detract from anything if it's well done.

Both of these shows have been teaching me a lot about what a good plot is made up of, and how to create one without going over the top into unbelievable territory, or being underwhelming with a slow moving story. And while reading definitely teaches me all of these things, too, I love watching quality shows that help me become a better writer when I'm not in a reading mood.

Parallel Universes in Realistic Fiction

I first read The Other Life by Ellen Meister in 2011, shortly after it came out. I loved the concept and the writing, and loved Meister's other books when I read them later. But the overall concept of The Other Life stuck with me. Quinn finds a portal in her laundry room that allows her to travel between the life she used to live with an old boyfriend, and her current life with her husband and son. I've previously written about the book:

There is a supernatural element of the portals that take Quinn from her "real" life to her other life, but they are explained very well, and it was easy to picture the fissures and Quinn's travel without feeling like you'd been displaced into a sci-fi novel. The portals are logically discussed before the end of the book, and with the focus being more on people and relationships than the paranormal, I would say this book is literary fiction more so than being classified in any sub-genre.

I loved the concept because I always liked wondering what would happen if. I remember being a kid at my grandparents' house, spacing out and wondering what things would feel like if I didn't exist. I wouldn't even know what I was missing. Pretty strange thoughts for a seven-year-old, but I think that's where all my wondering started. Every time I've made a big decision relating to moves, jobs, schools, etc, I take a few minutes to imagine how each path might turn out. I know there's no way to really know how things will be until you're in the moment, but some of my decisions have been drastic enough (like being offered two jobs in dramatically different fields) that I can speculate.

Then the TV show Community rocked my world with "Remedial Chaos Theory", a remarkable episode of television, especially for a half-hour sitcom, that approaches the concept of parallel universes. Each time the dice are rolled, a different outcome plays, showing everyone all the things that could have possibly happened if one thing was changed. 

I recently got hooked by Taylor Jenkins Reid, and loved her book Maybe In Another Life. It was more like The Other Life than "Remedial Chaos Theory", but it was really well done. Hannah has been feeling adrift in her life, unsure of everything from what career she should pursue to what city she should live in. When a friend convinces her to come back to her hometown of LA, Hannah is willing to try, partially because her high school boyfriend still lives there. On her first night back, Hannah goes to a bar with her friend to have a "welcome home!" party. In one universe, she goes home with her high school boyfriend to rekindle their romance. In the other, she goes home with the friend she's staying with. The chapters alternate from that point on, and the story develops so beautifully.

By the end, I did have a few questions about some of the "meant to be" aspects in one universe that didn't seem to completely apply in the other, so I need someone else to read this and talk to me about it! The last couple of chapters also had some of the same paragraphs copied and pasted - I know it's to show how things can be the same in both universes and still be "right" in each separate one, but as a reader, I don't want to see the exact same verbiage twice. I skimmed those paragraphs, but that was my only minor "issue" with the book.

Last year I started writing down some of my bigger decisions that led to one thing and could have gone a totally different way. It was my goal to write poems about what might have happened if I made the opposite choice. I haven't been able to find a good starting point, but reflecting on these books and episodes might be giving me the creative kick I need.

Happy New Year from Pete the Cat!

We are huge fans of Pete the Cat around here, as you can see from the sampling of our books, the keychain I keep on my bag, and the pouch I use for pens and USB drives.

(Yes, all the cute accessories are mine. Selfish? No - my son can have them when he's old enough to appreciate them. For now, they are mine all mine!)

For several days now, we have been watching the new Pete the Cat show on Amazon Prime. Have you seen it? Only one episode is up right now; it was released on Christmas Day but the story is about New Years resolutions. It's cute to see Pete as a "real" cat, and all his friends are so much fun!

The only negative I can think of, and this is incredibly minor, is that Pete doesn't talk until the very end of the episode. All of the other characters are pretty chatty, and even my three-year-old son said "Pete can't talk because he doesn't have a mouth." Which is true - there is no mouth most of the time, but Pete does talk at the end, so clearly that's not the issue. I just would have like to hear more from him.

I think Pete the Cat books make a huge difference with kids' literacy, reading enjoyment, and vocabulary, based on what I have seen with my son and the kids at school where I teach. Having Pete not talk on the show seemed to be a strange decision. But it's still an enjoyable episode, and we've watched it a few times and it hasn't gotten old. We're looking forward to more episodes.

Amazon does a pretty good job with their kids' shows based on books - we're also huge fans of the Stinky and Dirty Show, based on the books by Kate McMullan and Jim McMullan.