When Sir Arthur Conan Doyle conceived Sherlock Holmes, why didn't he give the famous consulting detective a few more quirks: a wooden leg, say, and an Oedipus complex? Well, Holmes didn't need many physical tics or personality disorders; the very concept of a consulting detective was still fresh and original in 1887.
For me, imagination would always provide a means of escape.
I have never met an author who did not read voraciously as a child.
The queen of crime, Agatha Christie, was always more concerned about the clockwork cleverness of the plot, never the investigator.
There's a melancholy sense of things lost in the shabbier British seaside towns; of comfortable failure and better times long gone.