It was odd, reading a Poirot graphic novel. There were distinct elements missing. Most noticeably Poirot’s air of egotism. It is, i am happy to admit, my favourite thing about Poirot. He’s a clever sod, and he knows it. Though there is reference to the “little grey cells”, the closest the books gets to Poirot’s conceitedness is a smug face when someone else describes how smart he is. It was nice, but it wasn’t the same.

With everyone Poirot talked to toting the same line about the victim, at first i was convinced this was another Orient. When the truth was revealed, it seemed much more out of no where than usual. Again, i think this was due to the lack of clues in the details about characters and their actions that graphic novels are prone to.

A longer review can be read at my book blog: Marvel At Words.