My book-buying moratorium has only five days to go. It’s my birthday this week and that has made the wait easier. My daughter gave me Silent Nights: Christmas Mysteries, edited by Martin Edwards, which I had been longing for. And what a splendid collection it is, well worth the wait. Of course there are a few old favourites: Conan Doyle’s ‘The Blue Carbunkle,’ Chesterton’s ‘The Flying Stars’, but there are also stories that have never been reprinted since they first appeared. I haven’t read them all yet, but so far there is not a single dud. Edgar Wallace’s ‘Stuffing,’ for example, is plotted with a deftness worthy of O. Henry.
I wasn’t surprised to receive Silent Nights – in fact, I’d have been surprised not to get it. But the book that my husband gave me, A is for Arsenic: The Poisons of Agatha Christie, by Katherine Harkup, is an unexpected treat. Harkup is herself a chemist and, even just flicking through the book, I can see that she knows what she is talking about. Dame Agatha was of course keen on poison as a means of committing murder and also knew her onions (or daffodil bulbs) since she qualified as a dispenser during WWI. The book examines fourteen of the poisons that Christie used in her novels and some of the real-life cases that might have inspired her. It looks fascinating.