Hercule Poirot returns – and yes, he’s as irritating as ever

First, a confession. I have never cared much for Hercule Poirot. In this I am not alone, for his creator felt much the same way, describing him as a ‘detestable, bombastic, tiresome, egocentric little creep’, albeit a creep with remarkable commercial staying power. Fortunately, my prejudice doesn’t affect enjoyment of the brilliantly constructed plots and the unobtrusively effective storytelling. But I find it far easier to warm to Miss Marple.

Poirot is, after Sherlock Holmes, the most celebrated fictional detective in the world. It was only a matter of time before the Agatha Christie estate allowed him to be brought back to life. Continuations have become big business in recent years — marriages of convenience between a prominent, dead author and a well-established living one. Sophie Hannah was a wise choice: not only is she an excellent crime novelist in her own right, but she understands Christie’s books in a way that only an admirer can.