Moonflower Murders: A Novel

Content Warning: This section of the guide discusses sexual abuse, ableism, and violent murders.

“I’d come to Greece after the catastrophe that was Magpie Murders. It was the last book I’d worked on and it had led to the death of the author, the collapse of my publishing company and the end of my career…in that order. There had been nine Atticus Pünd novels, all of them bestsellers, and I had thought there would be many more. But that was all over now. Instead, I found myself starting a new life, and frankly too much of it was hard work.”

At the beginning of the novel, Susan’s first-person narration provides exposition, summarizing the key events of Magpie Murders, the prequel to Moonflower Murders. Her description of Magpie Murders as “a catastrophe” introduces the theme of The Power of Storytelling, emphasizing the devastating real-world impact of Alan Conway’s fiction.

“It was when you stood here, in front of the house, that you appreciated its magnificence: the main door with its arched portico, the Gothic towers and crenellations, the coats of arms, and the stone chimneys that must have been connected to a multitude of fireplaces. The windows were double height with plaster heads of long-forgotten lords and ladies poking out of the corners. A number of stone birds perched high up on the very edge of the roof, with an eagle at each corner, and above the front door, there was a rather fine owl, with its wings outstretched.”

Susan’s description of Branlow Hall evokes the Golden Age detective fiction trope of the country house murder mystery. Architectural details, such as the crenellations and coats of arms, emphasize the building’s grandeur and impressive history. Meanwhile, the hotel’s Gothic towers and sculptures of birds of prey create an ominously eerie atmosphere. The “fine owl” above the door establishes the novel’s nocturnal symbolism while foreshadowing Susan’s near-death encounter with it later in the novel.

“If it had been Atticus Pünd coming into Branlow Hall, he’d have solved the crime by now. Perhaps the position of room twelve or the dog basket might have given him a clue. What about the figeen? That was straight out of Agatha Christie, wasn’t it? But I wasn’t a detective. I wasn’t even an editor anymore. I knew nothing.”

Here, the narrative’s tone is playfully metatextual as amateur detective Susan attempts to imagine how fictional detective Atticus Pünd would approach the investigation. Horowitz draws attention to the fact that, while Susan presents herself as a “real-world” person, she and Atticus Pünd are fictional characters in separate yet connected murder mysteries.