Postern of Fate was the first Tommy and Tuppence novel that I've ever read. Now I know why nobody talks about Tommy and Tuppence novels.
It's because they just natter on, repeating things to each other and never actually doing anything. There was really only enough material here for a short novella. The rest was just filler.
I suppose the thing had potential. But it had the feel of something Christie just dashed off on the way to the publisher. Like she had forgotten that the deadline was in two days; it was time to get cracking.
I think I'm going to stick to Poirot, unless somebody convinces me that PoF was a particularly bad example of TnT in action.
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