Motive vs. Opportunity by Agatha Christie

Admittedly, I went into this one a little skeptical. A mystery built around the mysterious circumstances of an old man’s will didn’t exactly sound gripping, but Motive vs. Opportunity won me over pretty quickly. This time, it’s Petherick, a well-respected lawyer, who brings a puzzle to the Tuesday Night Club. The crime itself is already solved; the real question is why the will, when retrieved from Petherick’s own vault, turns out to be completely blank. Of course, Miss Marple already has it figured out while the rest of the group continues scratching their head. As always, she draws on her sharp understanding of human nature and uncanny knowledge of village life (especially when mischievous children are involved).

Christie provides a surprisingly rich backstory involving the old man, his family, and the heartbreak of adopting a child who later dies of illness. Overcome with grief, he seeks comfort from a spiritual medium who claims she can help him communicate with the dead girl. Deeply affected, he adds the fortune teller to his will, much to the horror of the family members who stand to inherit. Petherick is his lawyer and also dumfounded. They are convinced he’s lost his senses and being hoodwinked by a charlatan.

Sure, this isn’t a pulse-pounding whodunit or a nail-biting thriller, but it doesn’t need to be. There’s enough intrigue to keep things moving along at a steady clip and the solution, when Miss Marple casually lays it out, is cleverly amusing. It’s a quaint, cozy and satisfying little mystery that turned out to be far better than expected. 

Accident by Agatha Christie

Would you like a cuppa?

Finally, an Agatha Christie short story that really hits the mark. Accident is delightfully sinister, with tension that creeps along at just the right pace before snapping into a genuinely surprising ending (at least it caught me off guard). It was especially refreshing after a run of recent Christie stories that, for me, never quite delivered the thrills or narrative spark she’s famous for.

The setup is classic Christie with a sharp twist. Inspector Evans is convinced that a woman he recognizes from an earlier case (where she was acquitted of murdering her husband with arsenic) is about to do it all over again with her new spouse. From there, Christie divides the story neatly in two: first, Evans lays out the backstory to a friend (and to us), and then the tale shifts into a tense game of cat and mouse. What follows is a clever duel of wits, with Evans and the woman circling each other, trading psychological feints and quiet manipulations. It’s smart, suspenseful, and thoroughly entertaining. Exactly the kind of Christie I’ve been missing.

The Case of the Missing Lady by Agatha Christie

Elementary, my dear Tuppence.

The Tommy and Tuppence short stories have mostly been a letdown for me. None of them are really memorable and wouldn't come strongly recommended. You're far better off sticking with Hercule Poirot or Miss Marple for more consistent results. It often feels like Agatha Christie is recycling the same basic ideas and after a while the formula starts to wear thin. Don’t get me wrong, Tommy and Tuppence have good chemistry and their playful banter can be fun, but too many of their adventures end up falling flat.

The Case of the Missing Lady continues that mediocre trend. As the title makes clear, the plot revolves around the duo trying to track down a young woman who has disappeared. I kept hoping Christie might do something unexpected with such a familiar setup, but the story feels like it’s running on autopilot. Tommy leans hard into a Sherlock Holmes act, casting Tuppence as his Watson, which is mildly amusing.

I won’t bother getting into the details of the plot, since it’s all rather silly and builds toward an an abrupt ending that is utterly ridiculous. The resolution is so anti-climactic that I half-wondered if a few pages were accidentally left out before publication. And while Christie’s work is known to contain some uncomfortable elements such as overt racism, this story stands out for being openly fatphobic.

Not my cup of tea. I’d say this one is safely skippable.

You can read this story HERE.

Staying Behind by Ken Liu

Come join the Singularity.

Ken Liu is remarkably consistent when it comes to delivering top-tier science-fiction short stories. His work is packed with imaginative concepts and big, philosophical ideas, but what really sets him apart is how deeply human his stories feel. He pairs speculative thought experiments with rich characterization and genuine poignancy. For my money, he’s one of the most talented writers currently working in the genre and deserves far wider recognition.

Staying Behind is a haunting post-apocalyptic story set in a world where people can achieve a form of immortality by uploading their consciousness into computers. It's like a vast digital cloud where the mind can exist long after the body is gone. Physical life is shed entirely, leaving behind only thought, memory, and identity floating in perpetuity. These entities are referred to as "The Dead" by those that remain. With the rapid advances in AI and digital preservation, the premise feels highly probable in the not-so-distant future. I am pretty sure there is a Black Mirror episode with a similar premise.

What gives the story its emotional weight is the devastating human cost of this choice. Liu focuses on those left behind, people who must grapple with the absence of loved ones who have chosen digital eternity over a finite, embodied life. The uploaded may still “exist” in some super-computer but the intimacy of physical presence, shared time, and human touch is irrevocably lost. The story becomes less about immortality as a triumph and more about grief, abandonment and the painful realization that survival doesn’t always feel like living.

There’s something profoundly heartbreaking about watching the characters try to move forward in a world where death has been technically defeated, yet emotional loss remains absolute. Immortality may preserve the mind, but it cannot preserve connection, presence, or the fragile intimacy that defines human relationships. Staying Behind revisits one of science fiction’s most enduring questions: what does it mean to be human? It suggests that humanity is not rooted in endless consciousness or technological transcendence, but in our capacity for love, grief, and shared mortality. Our bodies, our limits, and even our inevitable death are not flaws to be engineered away, but essential components of meaning. In choosing to live forever, the uploaded abandon the very vulnerability that allows relationships to matter, leaving those who remain to shoulder the emotional consequences. Liu’s story ultimately implies that being human is not about surviving indefinitely, but about accepting mortality, even when doing so guarantees struggle, pain, suffering, heartbreak and eventual death.

You can read this story HERE.

The Conversion of the Jews by Philip Roth

The power of Christ compels you!

Philip Roth is one of those towering 20th-century American authors who, despite his reputation, has never quite worked for me. I have made several earnest attempts at his novels, only to abandon ship each time out of sheer frustration. There’s something about his bloated, self-indulgent prose that irks me. I hoped that dipping into his short stories might finally change my mind. I wouldn’t say it hasn’t helped, but I’m also not fully converted just yet.

Which brings me to The Conversion of the Jews. Is this story supposed to be funny? Perhaps the humor sailed right over my head, but I didn’t laugh once. Not a chuckle. Not even a polite internal “hmph.”

Beneath the supposed satire, the story reads more like a coming-of-age tale in disguise. Ozzie Freedman isn’t rebelling just to be difficult; he’s a kid genuinely trying to reconcile what he’s being taught with what actually makes sense to him. His questions about God, Jesus, and immaculate conception aren’t acts of defiance so much as early signs of intellectual independence. That pivotal moment when childhood acceptance gives way to adolescent skepticism.

Exploring Jewish identity has always been integral to Roth's work and his most effective move here is treating faith and doubt as inseparable. Ozzie’s so-called “heresy” isn’t a rejection of Jewish religious belief but evidence that belief is alive, unsettled, and worth wrestling with. The adults cling to rigid answers (in this case, the Rabbi and Mother), while Ozzie’s uncertainty feels honest, curious, and deeply human. Ironically, the child is the only one taking faith seriously enough to interrogate it. 

So no, I didn’t laugh. But I did recognize that uncomfortable moment when you realize the world isn’t obligated to give you neat, satisfying answers. In that sense, the story captures a key rite of passage: the first time you ask the wrong questions very loudly and are promptly told by people in authority that you really, really shouldn’t.

The Jewel Robbery at the Grand Metropolitan by Agatha Christie

1920's swag.

Not exactly the most original premise, The Jewel Robbery at the Grand Metropolitan is probably the best out of the recent batch of Agatha Christie stories that I have read lately, which really isn't a glowing endorsement. Hercule Poirot and his ever-loyal sidekick Hastings are taking a brief holiday from sleuthing, enjoying some well-earned R&R at a fancy Brighton hotel. Naturally, Poirot barely has time to unpack before his services are required once again and those famous “little grey cells” are switched back on. Vacation denied.

Enter a wealthy couple, with the wife in particular being very proud of her jewel-encrusted necklace. She’s eager to show it off, until she goes back to her room and discovers it’s vanished. Gasp. The local inspector and others quickly zero in on the usual suspects: it must be the servants! The lady's maid and the chambermaid were both in the room at the time, so it must be one of them. Right?  Poirot, however, is not entirely convinced. Given the layout of the room, it seems highly unlikely that either woman could have grabbed the necklace from its supposedly secure location and hide it before the mistress returned. Hastings even supplies a helpful little floor plan of the room (which is neat, I guess?), while Poirot does what Poirot does best: quietly observes, thinks circles around everyone else, and eventually outsmarts the lot of them.

All that said, the story itself just isn’t very compelling. From the outset, it’s hard to feel invested in the mystery or particularly care about how it all turns out. Yes, Poirot’s eccentricities and razor-sharp intellect are always a pleasure, but even he can’t entirely save a story that feels this slight. His charm carries it some of the way, just not memorably across the finish line.

The Manhood of Edward Robinson by Agatha Christie

Little Caesar himself, played by the impeccable Edward G. Robinson

I don’t like to think of myself as having a dirty mind, but I probably would have chosen a different title than The Manhood of Edward Robinson. Just saying. That aside, I’ve been a little underwhelmed by the summer picks for the Agatha Christie short-story reading challenge. None of them have quite delivered that signature Christie blend of charm, wit, and suspense I usually expect and this story sadly continues that trend. Fingers crossed the fall and winter selections fare better.

Despite what the title might suggest, this has nothing to do with the famous Hollywood actor. Instead, we get an English fellow of the same name who feels perpetually henpecked by his sensible, strong-willed fiancée. Edward is convinced his independence is slipping away and that her practical nature is slowly but surely emasculating him. A devoted reader of romance novels, he longs for adventure, passion, and a dramatic reversal of power. One where he calls the shots and the woman is the impressionable one.

When Edward unexpectedly wins a tidy sum of money from some newspaper contest, he does what any man desperate to reclaim his “manhood” would do: he buys a flashy car without telling his fiancée. Naturally, she would prefer the money be sensibly invested in savings or bonds, but Edward is done being sensible. He wants the carefree bachelor life, wind in his hair, no lectures, no spreadsheets, and definitely no talk of long-term financial planning.

This joyride marks the story’s turning point and also when things start to get, frankly, very silly. Edward stops somewhere, then somehow drives off in the wrong car because it happens to be the same model. An understandable mistake, right? Maybe I’m nitpicking, but a) how do you not realize you’re driving someone else’s car? and b) how did he even start it when the keys weren’t left in the ignition? Maybe cars were made differently back then? I don't know. 

Naturally, Edward then discovers an expensive necklace in the glove compartment (sorry, “pocket”), which launches him into a bizarre adventure involving mistaken identity, a theft ring, and a series of increasingly improbable decisions. Having wished for excitement, he happily plays along, pretending to be someone else until he narrowly escapes and returns to his comfortably ordinary life.

The premise should make for a fun, frothy, lighthearted thriller, but instead it all feels a bit too ridiculous and not in a charming way. In the end, it’s Christie’s polished prose and storytelling finesse that barely keep this one from stalling out completely.

The Blood Stained Pavement by Agatha Christie

Cliffs and Stack, West Penwith by Paul Mcgregor

In Agatha Christie's The Blood Stained Pavement, it's now Joyce Lempriere's turn to regale the Tuesday Night Club with a mystery from her past. She recalls a stay at a picturesque seaside inn in Cornwall, where she planned to spend her days peacefully sketching the dramatic landscape. Surrounded by steep cliffs and rocky terrain, one must always be careful of their footing should an unfortunate "accident" occur. As Joyce talks, Miss Marple sits quietly in the corner, knitting away and saying nothing, using her superpower of picking up on the seemingly inconsequential details that the others barely register. 

Joyce notices a young couple arrive at the inn, followed soon after by another woman traveling alone. The man recognizes the woman as an old friend, they exchange pleasantries and everything seems hunky-dory. Perhaps too hunky-dory. Then Joyce spots what looks suspiciously like bloodstains on the pavement (hence, the title), which according to Cornish folklore, is a bad omen meaning that someone will die in 24hrs...dun, dun dun. She begins to question whether it's actually blood or whether the sea air is getting to her head. Before long, the female friend vanishes and her body washes up on the shore few days later. Did she drown? Or maybe she took an unfortunate tumble off the cliff? The ending is anti-climactic because Joyce just tells everyone exactly what happened following the police investigation into the woman's mysterious death. Instead of the group excitedly dissecting clues and debating theories, Joyce simply explains what the police investigation uncovered. Case closed, discussion cancelled. Miss Marple then calmly delivers her usual moral of the story, one she seems contractually obligated to repeat in some shape or form in these tales: 

"There is a great deal of wickedness in village life. I hope you dear young people will never realize how very wicked the world is."

A sobering thought, sure. Unfortunately, the story doesn't offer much in the way of suspense or thrills, which we know Christie is more than capable of delivering. Instead, everything is wrapped up in a tidy little bow and presented to the reader on a silver platter, no sleuthing required. 

The Future Looks Good by Lesley Nneka Arimah

Biafra.

Lesley Nneka Arimah’s short-story collection What It Means When a Man Falls from the Sky contains some solid stories, so far. Taken as a whole, the collection hasn’t completely swept me off my feet yet, but I’m always excited to dive into the work of contemporary Black women writers, particularly those from the African diaspora who bring fresh storytelling traditions and cultural perspectives to the page. Black representation in fiction matters. Not just in the sense of “seeing yourself,” but in expanding the kinds of stories, emotional landscapes, and narrative possibilities that literature makes room for. Black women writers, especially, often carve out spaces that challenge the usual boundaries of genre and theme while simultaneously confronting the complexities of identity, history, and resilience. Arimah seems more than capable of doing exactly that.

The Future Looks Good opens with Ezinma trying to unlock her apartment door before everything takes a sharp and shocking turn. I won’t spoil the moment itself, but the story immediately yanks the reader backwards through layered memories of her life and family history, stretching all the way back to 1966 as Nigeria plunges into civil war. However, it's Ezinma's complex relationship with her sister that forms the emotional crux of the story. Arimah uses this flashback structure effectively, as if the past is rushing forward to collide with the present in the very instant Ezinma turns her key. The title, of course, is darkly ironic since there is no hopeful future waiting for Ezinma. Only the weight of inherited trauma, family wounds that have never healed and tragedy await her.

Arimah’s clear-eyed portrayal of how Black women are repeatedly made vulnerable within patriarchal structures, both in public and in private spheres is worthy of note. The story’s violence is presented as a grim reflection of how society often normalizes harm against women while demanding their endurance in the face of it. Arimah exposes these dynamics while showing how generational expectations, gender roles, and power imbalances intertwine to create a world where women like Ezinma are expected to survive everything but are protected from nothing. This story covers a lot of ground within a very confined space, which is impressive and usually a good sign of a talented short-story writer. 

So yes, stay far away if you are in the mood for something uplifting because this one is sad, sad, sad. But it’s also powerful in its sadness, and Arimah doesn’t let any of it feel sensationalized. Instead, she shows how deeply rooted these cycles of pain are and how urgently they need to be named.

You can read this story HERE.