In general, I’m not fond of biographies, and I’m even less fond of memoirs (i.e. I went into this with a fair amount of bias). But I gave this one a chance, because I enjoy Agatha Christie, the ITV adaptations and Suchet’s Poirot a great deal. I didn’t expect much more than some nice background noise for a few otherwise tedious menial tasks. And this I certainly got.
However, while parts of it are entertaining and even charming, there are also parts that are quite the opposite, but my predominant impression of Poirot and Me was that it’s unintentionally funny. Not because Suchet should really sit down and think of a synonym for ‘idiosyncrasies’ – or consult a thesaurus. No, because this oeuvre is a 9-hour long textbook example of humblebrag. That Suchet narrates the audiobook himself doesn’t help in the slightest (although that’s, of course, a perfectly reasonable choice). If I had tried reading it, I wouldn’t have made it past the first few chapters. I shall stick to just watching him in the future.
Nevertheless, this is a great example of my continuing effort not to equate quality with enjoyment. Because, while I do think that Poirot and Me is not a good book, I obviously still enjoyed it enough to listen to all 9 hours of it and I don’t regret having done so.