Hm. I know not what to think about Ngaio Marsh. According to SOME PEOPLE (aka the people who write blurbs for the back of Ngaio Marsh's books), Agatha Christie should be compared to her, rather than vice versa but that's a bit of a stretch.
Because I love Agatha Christie, I've been desperately searching for The Next Agatha Christie. I like Ngaio March better than Margery Allingham but slightly less than Dorothy L. Sayers. And that's because I love Lord Peter Wimsy.
The problem I have in reading all three of the aforementioned authors is that I often feel that the humor and most of the situations in general are way over my head. Inspector Alleyn / Lord Peter / Albert Campion are always making nonsensical proclamations, ostensibly solving the mystery, then following up with, "Right-ho, cheery-bye!" and their respective companions are like, "Ah yes, capital plan!" and I'm like, hulk no read good. Is it supposed to be that way? I don't know if it is because things are supposed to remain obscure and hidden until The Big Reveal or because I am not familiar with pre-war British parlance or WHAT, but it makes me feel really stupid. I always think I am missing something
but I'm not sure what.
However, Agatha is different - sure, there are things that aren't entirely clear until the genius last chapter, but it's okay because even if you don't understand, at least you're not as stupid as Hastings.