Advent Calendar Day 17
There’s something uniquely soothing about settling in for a dark December evening with Hercule Poirot by my side. While the world outside is wrapped in frost, I drift into Christie’s subtle labyrinths of manners, motives, and small household routines. It’s not just reading a mystery — it’s a gentle ritual, a chance to let the mind wander and return, again and again, to the rhythmic cadence of a well-crafted investigation.
Poirot, with his immaculate moustache, his fastidious way of speaking, and his unshakable confidence in his “little grey cells,” offers a kind of companionship that feels both reassuring and alive. In these stories, Christmas – or simply wintry life – isn’t just a backdrop. It deepens the tone: long shadows across a drawing room, guests framed in candlelight, the soft stillness that falls after a confession or a revelation.
What I particularly love about rereading Poirot during the holidays is how Christie’s mysteries slow down for us. They’re not about high-speed chases or dramatic set-pieces; they’re about drawing rooms, secrets whispered over tea, polite refusals hiding stronger emotions. Whether the crime is buried in a family gathering or emerging from a stranger’s quiet melancholy, there is always an intimacy beneath the surface.
As I read, I notice small gestures: someone adjusting a cuff, a letter slipped into a coat pocket, a carefully chosen gift. These are not frivolous details — they are clues, in more ways than one. Poirot watches; he understands. But Christie also watches: she watches people, their incompleteness, their stubbornness, their capacity for kindness.
In my December ritual, then, I don’t just read Poirot; I linger with him. I pause between chapters, let his observations settle in my mind, and sometimes I close the book early, so that the quiet can continue. It’s a kind of meditation — not silent, but thoughtful.
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A short note on how and why I share book links
Here’s a tiny ritual you can try alongside me:
Bring a small object into your reading space — maybe a teacup, a letter, or a piece of wool.
Hold it and imagine it belongs to a character in a Poirot story — Mrs. Clifton, Mr. Hawes, or even Poirot himself.
Ask yourself: What does this object mean to them? What memory is it tied to?
Then whisper a question to that character in your mind — a question about their regrets, their hopes, or their quiet secrets. Hold the question gently, as part of your ritual, and let it rest there when you return to the book.
Even in the stillness of a Christie mystery, there is space for wonder — a reminder that every person, under the calmest surface, carries a story worth listening to.
Written by Alexandra Poppy
Writer, reader & curator of The Ritual of Reading
I’m Alexandra, the voice behind The Ritual of Reading. Somewhere between a stack of novels and a half-finished pot of tea, I keep finding traces of the life I want to live—slower, richer, filled with stories. The Ritual of Reading is where I gather what I love: books that linger, places with a past, and rituals that make ordinary days feel a little more meaningful. I write from Paris, where elegant bookshops and old-fashioned cafĂ©s offer endless inspiration—and I share it here, hoping it brings a spark to your own days, too.
