The Murder of Roger Ackroyd
I had trouble putting this book down. Mystery novels are like puzzles, which are like crack to my INFJ/P brain. There is also continuous plot tension. And the language/speaking style of the novel reminded me very much of my upcoming release. The detective in this story, a Belgian called Hercule Poirot, is a hoot—we first meet him when he tosses a huge squash over the narrator's fence in frustration. The reveal at the end is a massive surprise, and I had a few reservations about it, but I will likely be reading Christie again.
Reader warning: This novel contains an instance of antisemitic sentiment. The book is nearly 100 years old, but it still came as a shock. I did a little research to see whether this was common for Christie or whether maybe it was intended as character development, and apparently Christie had some clueless notions when she was younger that she shed in later life.