
I am absolutely thrilled to be joining in with the Read Christie challenge for 2026. Agatha Christie has been my inspiration since I was ten years old, when my dad first gave me a copy of The ABC Murders. Little did he realise what kind of literary obsession he had started; Christie has been my constant source of reading, and remains my deep-rooted inspiration as a writer. So, how could I be even remotely reluctant to get involved with Read Christie for 2026?
So, let’s start with January’s prompt for reading. The Agatha Christie team chose ‘best opening’ for eager participants’ monthly enjoyment. What does, or could this mean? The best opening line? Best murder from the outset? Most creepy start? Something else entirely? Whichever way you interpret it, there are some great options here. Right at the top of my list would be Appointment with Death, for its first line (which I will not spoil here for you – please do go and read it! I love this book, and the TV Poirot adaptation). The Christie team chose to read The Body in the Library, a great choice in which a random female corpse is found in the library of the Bantrys, friends of Miss Marple, and sets up a marvellous plot for this book.
But, I confess, I had a more visceral reaction to the prompt and ‘best’, while left open to subjectiveness, for me became an indulgence. I’m an unashamed lover of the snow. I love everything about it – the way it looks as it falls, the stunning beauty of its undisturbed settlement on the ground and house roofs, the way you can track footprints through it, from a pigeon to the postman. And there is a Christie book which opens with, for me, an idyllic wintry landscape: The Sittaford Mystery.
The novel begins with the sparsely numbered residents of Sittaford, cut off from everywhere by the vast amount of snow which has recently fallen, being invited to Sittaford House by Mrs and Miss Willett who have blown in from abroad and rented the large house from Captain Trevelyan for the winter months. The Captain has, himself, rented a small house in Exhampton six miles’ walk away and is oblivious that, at 5.25p.m. that evening, in his house, what begins as a fun game of table turning (getting ghosts to spell words by knocking against the table while the participants link hands via thumbs and little fingers) turns into something much more deadly. At 5.25p.m., Captain Trevelyan’s own table raps out the letters to inform the guests at Sittaford House that he is dead. And that he has been murdered.
There has been a fall of several feet of snow in a village which is so insular and tiny that it only consists of the big house belonging to Captain Trevelyan and the six cottages he has had built. All told, you would barely run out of fingers if you counted the residents of Sittaford at the beginning of this novel. This snowfall in such a place doesn’t merely satisfy my aesthetic nuances, it excites me because it provides the perfect backdrop for a mystery. But why?
Firstly, it provides a wonderful atmosphere for a novel which focuses intensely on the way everywhere is isolated from the its neighbour. The unsullied snow stops being a thing of beauty and becomes a means of a kind of imprisonment for the residents, or creates complications and difficulties for movement. This then forces a ring around the people who ‘could not possibly have committed the murder’, as they were holed up together, while the snow ravished the countryside beyond. Imagine looking out of the window of a large old house into the darkness while the snow batters against the windows and believing that you have just been sent a message from beyond to inform you of the murder of the man who owns the house you are standing in. The atmosphere of a perfect wintry village changes exponentially, doesn’t it?
Indeed, the snow sets up the entire landscape of the book, both physically and structurally. It acts as an inhibitor, just as the witnesses and suspects sometimes do. The picturesque snow could also, potentially, give the game away for the culprit, should any footprints be discovered around the house in Exhampton where Captain Trevelyan’s body is discovered, and again, one look at the beautiful, snowy hillside from Sittaford village all the way downhill to Exhampton makes us wonder how anyone could have managed to get to the house to murder the Captain. Cars cannot pass, and trains are disrupted. Travelling into Exhampton from other areas has been somewhat possible, so other suspects can be ruled in as they are proven to have reason to want the Captain dead. Does this, therefore, mean categorically that no one at Sittaford could possibly have committed murder? Suddenly, everything starts to feel impossible, unsolvable as with every great mystery at some point in the story.
Perhaps most importantly of all, without the snow established to great effect at the very outset of The Sittaford Mystery, this book simply would not work. Everything relies on it. The depiction of the village is not merely picturesque and establishing a wintry atmosphere. It’s not only hinting that the snow can be dangerous and cause problems for people (both with and without the intention to murder). It is absolutely essential to the plot, the clues which Christie plants so expertly from the very beginning, and is among the most vital pieces of evidence in piecing together the means and opportunity of the guilty.
I hope you can see why, despite so many incredible choices for ‘best opening’ that I could have chosen to kick off Read Christie 2026, I have sunk straight into the snowy Sittaford. There is so much more to this deceptively picturesque beginning than meets the eye. And this is just one of the many things I absolutely adore about Agatha Christie’s books.
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