By Guy Stagg
The English are a morbid bunch. They see more ghosts per person than any other nation. Perhaps it is due to our relatively stable history, meaning that families and buildings stay around long enough to become haunted. Christmas always used to be a time for ghost stories, but recently they have been replaced by our other grisly fascination: murder mysteries.
This Christmas has been an especially good one for fans of the murder mystery. David Suchet was in fine form as he enters the final lap of his Poirot run, while P. D. James’s most recent novel Death Comes to Pemberley was a delightful, if brutal, sequel to Pride and Prejudice. Meanwhile 2012 brings the latest series of Sherlock and a new TV adaptation of The Mystery of Edwin Drood – the Dickens whodunit, left tantalisingly unfinished at the author’s death.
The English have always been fans of crime fiction, and murder mysteries in particular. But it’s not as if we have higher murder rate than any other country. So why do we enjoy reading about it so much?
England did not invent the murder mystery. However, we did perfect the genre. The Golden Age of detective fiction was between the wars, where writers like Dorothy L Sayers and GK Chesterton became household names, while Agatha Christie went on to sell more novels than any author in history.
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