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Trailing Agatha

Years ago, in the youth of my childhood, Baba bought me 'And Then There Were None' on one of our annual outings at the Kolkata International Book Fair, which, at that point in time, used to be held at the Maidan. Baba used to be the indulgent parent, taking me to the book fair, buying me the books I wanted. Not now, though, when I buy my own books and Baba laments about the lack of space in the house and berates me about not using libraries. But that's not the point of this post. I read my first Agatha Christie book courtesy of Baba. 'They Do It With Mirrors' didn't have a very engaging beginning for me who had till then only read Enid Blyton. But I persevered and found a new love.  In recent years, with crime fiction books mushrooming across the world, and Japanese classics in the genre being translated with enthusiasm, I have been overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of books with the "cut-off-from-the-mainland-and-there's-been-a-murder" trope. Nota...

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