Completed The Murder of Roger Ackroyd this morning, about which the less said the better. Asked my brother in England about the book last week, he says he's never bothered to read it because of my father's unfortunate reveal. It is his opinion that Christie isn't really for re-reading, though I have found numerous others on the Internet who think otherwise. In any event I can say this, knowing the ending from the beginning saves me the time it would have taken impulsively reading the entire thing over again from the beginning right away.
Last night we watched the BBC movie Agatha Christie: A Life In Pictures (2004). Queer little film, detailing the true story of when Christie suffered amnesia (or did she ..?) and went missing for almost two weeks in 1926. Though it features a fine performance by Olivia Williams, and the appearance of Mark Gatiss always makes me happy, it is an interesting piece if bio-fiction that is marred by too much sinister cleverness on the part of the director. Most of the text is narration, taken from first-person accounts that are dramatized by the actors, punctuated by odd film stock (see: Mark Romanek) and the more-cheesy-than-disturbing appearances by the Gunman, an image from Christie's childhood nightmares.
This film also includes several spoilers, including the conclusion of Roger Ackroyd. So there you go, I inadvertently gave away the ending to my wife. Read it now while you still have the chance.