

I'm starting to think that writers of fiction are even more prescient than I realized. This isn't a great Christie novel. It's her attempt at dystopian fiction, and it's disjointed, melodramatic, and weird, but there are some really interesting observations and commentary. It's got a bit of overlap with themes from A Clockwork Orange and Brave New World, but she never leans into those in a compelling way. Still, it's an interesting departure.