Tag Archives: Hound of the Baskervilles

October 26, 2012 · 3:11 am

Greenberg, Martin H., Jon Lellenberg, and Daniel Stashower. Ghosts in Baker Street: New Tales of Sherlock Holmes. NY: Carroll and Graf, 2006.

Holmes is losing patience with all of your vampire nonsense, client.

Ok, we all know it, so let’s repeat it together: “The world is big enough for us. No ghosts need apply.”* If BBC’s Sherlock wants to get in a little canon/crap telly moment, all they have to do is show Sherlock, perched on his chair, yelling at one of those ubiquitous reality ghost-hunting programs–about dust,mirrors, how the bedclothes didn’t move naturally and five reasons why everyone should know that Derek guy is obviously a fake. As several authors in this anthology point out, Sir Arthur had the artistic integrity not to have his most famous character take on his own Spiritualist beliefs in some Dartmoor epiphany. Sherlock Holmes never sought an answer via supernatural methods. Still, the intersection of the set of mystery lovers and the set of ghost story aficionados is a large one, so it’s not surprising that, while Doyle let his detective approach the boundaries of the supernatural realm, there are other writers willing to toss him in completely. The authors and editors of Ghosts in Baker Street do not hesitate.

Anthologies are tricky to review. You want to give the reader a clear idea of what the book contains, but you face three problems. First, short stories are easy to spoil. Second, in a large anthology, you don’t have space (and the reader doesn’t have time) to cover every story in detail. Third, stories can vary widely in quality, leading to the “I bought this for one good song” experience. I thought, therefore, that I’d try grading each story in the book, on the traditional 4-point scale, then averaging the grades to score the book as a whole.***  We’ll see how it goes.

Most stories, happily, fall solidly in the “A” category. These include Gillian Linscott’s “The Adventure of the Late Orang Outang,” in which a pet’s love seems to transcend the grave, and academic rivalries prove deadly.  Those familiar with the legends surrounding King Tut’s tomb will see parallels in “Sherlock Holmes and the Mummy’s Curse,”  (H. Paul Jeffers). In this story, Watson’s old army buddy inadvertently draws the doctor and the detective into investigating whether the members of an Egyptian expedition are dropping dead due to coincidence…or a curse. We revisit a favorite Doyle theme–pacts gone wrong–as well as a phantom hound in Paula Cohen’s “The Adventure of the Dog in the Nighttime.”  Irish literary history provides the backdrop for an atmospheric tale with folkloric accents, Michael Walsh’s “The Coole Park Problem.” How did William Butler Yeats, George Bernard Shaw, and even Sherlock Holmes come to reach new heights in their careers? Sir Arthur may agree that the fairy-folk were involved…you may reach a different conclusion. Finally, we get a Watson-only story, in a viscerally scary (even disturbing) tale, “Death in the East End.” Colin Bruce reveals a bit of the Watson family’s past, and the doctor himself learns one shouldn’t challenge the spirit world rashly. Each of these stories is told in decent “Watson-voice,” and contains plenty of cherished Doylean elements (breakfasts, stormy nights at 221B, deducing the client, bored Holmes). Some endings have natural explanations, while others are a little less cut-and-dried. You should find all of them enjoyable.

Two stories earn a “B.” Jon L. Breen’s “The Adventure of the Librarian’s Ghost” starts out with a creepy, interesting premise (a ghost predicts national crises by throwing out books and marking passages in blood) but totters with an easily-guessed solution, and a bit of preachiness in the end. “The Adventure of the St. Marylebone Ghoul” (Bill Crider) also has fascinating elements: allusions to the George Edalji case,† the intersection of East and West, prejudice, and nasty discussions of grave-robbing and ghouls. Unfortunately, I didn’t find part of the solution believable. It was a little too convenient, disappointing after a terrific build-up.

One story, and one story only, earned a “C.”  Carolyn Wheat’s  “A Scandal in Drury Lane, Or, the Vampire Trap,” has arguably the most gorgeous beginning in the book: an anonymous reminiscence of the Royal Theatre in Drury Lane which covers Restoration Comedy, the 18th century, and the early Regency, right up to the night of the fire which destroyed it on February 28, 1809. One gets the impression that this time, there may be no natural explanation, that we’re seeing with phantom eyes and hearing a phantom voice. The reader is ready for a haunting tale, and not just a tale of haunts.

Unfortunately, that voice is stilled once we get to 221B (never to be heard again) and the experience is jarring. The premise is interesting: Holmes is called to the Royal Theatre to investigate bad omens which mysteriously appear, and a gray ghost who disappears, both threatening the current production and an actress’ sanity. Are the manifestations man-made, or are they clues to a long-ago murder? The Society of Psychical Research even makes an appearance. In the end, however, I found several avoidable inaccuracies which soured my opinion a bit. The Royal Theatre actually burned on February 24, 1809. Sir Henry Irving could not be, as Watson refers to him, “the late Sir Henry Irving” in 1896, as he didn’t die until 1905. And it was hard for me to believe that Sherlock Holmes, a master of complex disguises who made a particular study of London streets,  was less familiar with the West End Theatre District than his flatmate. In the canon, Watson writes that “The stage lost a fine actor” when his friend took up detecting. Even if one discounts Baring-Gould’s notion that a young Holmes actually joined a theatre troupe, it seems natural to conclude he spent time backstage–and in the seats, enjoying opera and concerts. Finally, I found the explanation a little too elaborate, although you may disagree. These flaws, coupled with the complete atmospheric disconnect between the introduction and the body of the story, made it disappointing.

Ghosts in Baker Street isn’t all chills, however. At the end of the book the editors include three non-fiction essays, all of which deserve “A’s.” Caleb Carr discusses Sherlock Holmes’ relationship to the nascent science of psychology in “Some Analytical Genius, No Doubt.” While Mr. Carr’s thoughts on why Doyle shied away from psychology (related to his troubled father), are interesting, I am not sure I agree. There are people who have a constitutional preference for the “hard sciences.” They want to be able to see, touch, smell, hear, and quantify. The physical world is where they feel most at home. Others don’t mind if things get, in my husband’s words, “squishy.” They gravitate more to the arts, the social sciences and yes, psychology–although I do wonder if Holmes was more comfortable once B.F. Skinner and behaviorism rolled around.†† Still, the article is interesting, and Carr’s final thoughts on the academic trend towards deconstruction and the canon are heartening.

Barbara Roden continues the non-fiction section with “No Ghosts Need Apply?” A noted expert in both Holmes and the English ghost story, Ms. Roden provides a thorough look at the genesis of the “psychic detective” genre. She connects its popularity to both the need for authors hopping on the lucrative detective story bandwagon to “distinguish their creations from the Master in some way,”†††  and to the psychic shock of The Great War, which saw a rise in the popularity of Spiritualism and an interest in the paranormal. We get an overview of names you may remember: Abraham van Helsing, Flaxman Low, John Silence, Thomas Carnacki…and some you may not have heard of: Aylmer Vance, Norton Vyse, and Shiela Crerar, just for a start. Finally, speaking of van Helsing, Loren Estleman, author of the best-selling Sherlock Holmes v. Dracula, talks about his own introduction to the canon, his experience in the Sherlockian fiction world, and makes the salient point that when it comes to the supernatural, “if you win Holmes, you win the reader.”

All in all, Ghosts in Baker Street is a solid collection of traditional stories, with enough scares for the ghost story lover and enough logic for the armchair detective. The prior stories would be worth the price of admission. There are, however, two more pieces, and I don’t think it’s exaggerating to call them spectacular. The first is a brief story by Daniel Stashower. Told from the viewpoint of HOUN’s escaped Notting Hill murderer, “Selden” is a tale of a bright young man, loyal to the Baskerville family, who goes to war in South Africa. Seriously injured, he encounters a kindly physician–an eye specialist–who consoles the soldiers with his belief that “our fallen comrades were not really dead…but only transferred to another place.”‡ Selden doesn’t follow them, however; he goes home, a morphine addict who commits a savage crime to obtain the drugs his body craves. The rest of his story is familiar to those who have read HOUN. Stashower, however, adds one dark, breathtaking twist, allowing the little boy who clutched his sister’s hand to find honor and redemption in the end.

Finally, Loren Estleman demonstrates just what he means by “winning Holmes” in his story, “The Devil and Sherlock Holmes.” When a patient at St. Porphyry’s Hospital (specializing in the mentally ill) claims to be Satan, and terrible things start happening, Watson (who has been consulting there) asks his friend to look into the matter. Holmes is naturally skeptical, and challenges the man, “John Smith,” to prove his claims, particularly that of leaving the world and taking them all with him at midnight, Walpurgisnacht.‡‡ There’s something odd about the man. A strange affect, a palpable sense of menace. He knows thing about them he should  not. He oozes through the page. There is nothing I love more than a Satanic smackdown, and Holmes is no cinema priest who’s lost his faith. He may not have had any faith to begin with. But when he’s taken to the pinnacle of the temple, he knows exactly what to do.‡‡‡  In these stories, both Estleman and Stashower take on the typical supernatural pastiche form and transcend it.

Well, let’s average our grades, shall we?  With a total of 48, dividing by 13 stories, we get 3.69, or 3.7, a high B and a respectable score for any anthology. For those of you who like a little dark frisson in your detective story, Ghosts in Baker Street delivers.

Ghosts in Baker Street is, unfortunately, currently out of print, although several of the stories have been reprinted elsewhere by now, and may be familiar to some. You can find a used copy of Ghosts online fairly easily. Check Amazon, Barnes & Noble, ABE and even eBay to find the book at a reasonable price.

Star Rating: 4 1/2 out of 5  “Well worth your time and money.”

Footnotes:

*”The Sussex Vampire”

**Imagines Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock doing this. Imagines it in detail for a very, very long time….

***Yes, it is report card time at our house. How did you guess?

† This is a case in which Sir Arthur Conan Doyle actually did a little detecting of his own. See http://www.siracd.com/life_case1.shtml for more detail.

†† “Was.” See what I did there?

†††Ghosts in Baker Street, p.202

‡ Ghosts in Baker Street, p. 140. Can you guess who that might be? I have to admit that it took me a little bit of time to adjust my mental chronology of HOUN from Baring-Gould’s date of 1888 to sometime between 1901 and its publication in 1903 (I like the idea of Holmes investigating the Ripper murders while Watson is in Dartmoor). However, some chronological experts go with the later date, so the scene with ACD is plausible.

‡‡A springtime equivalent of Halloween. See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walpurgis_Night

‡‡‡ A reference to Luke 4:9.  Obviously I am not equating Christ and Sherlock Holmes. But Smith’s appeal to his intellect and his pride in the story constitute a very real temptation.

Comments Off on Greenberg, Martin H., Jon Lellenberg, and Daniel Stashower. Ghosts in Baker Street: New Tales of Sherlock Holmes. NY: Carroll and Graf, 2006.

Filed under Anthology (Stories by different authors), AU (Alternative Universe), Daniel Stashower, Four-star reviews, Jon Lellenberg, Martin Greenberg, Supernatural

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March 19, 2012 · 9:19 pm

Duncan, Alistair. An Entirely New Country: Arthur Conan Doyle, Undershaw, and the Resurrection of Sherlock Holmes. London: MX, 2011

The Conan Doyle children, Mary and Kingsley, at Undershaw, c.1900

In late 1893, Sherlock Holmes’ legions of fans received a terrible shock. Unbeknownst to them, their hero had perished at Reichenbach Falls nearly three years previously.  It took time, and the scurrilous insinuations published by Colonel James Moriarty, the Professor’s brother, to persuade his grieving Boswell to write an account of May 4, 1891, but write it he did, effectively blasting the expectations of readers who had become accustomed to following Holmes and Watson on their adventures,  to the point that many actually believed the two men to be real. Still, after a few bad moments or vacant days (for the most obsessed), those readers went back to their normal lives. There were, after all, other detectives.*

While young City men reportedly wore black armbands for someone who never lived, his creator, Arthur Conan Doyle, was reeling from horrible news of his own. That October, his wife Louise (affectionately known to her family as “Touie”) had been diagnosed with tuberculosis. Her case was advanced, and it was terminal. Whatever future they had envisioned for themselves and their young family was now irrevocably changed. There would not be, after all, another Louise.

One common 19th century treatment sought by tubercular patients who could afford it was a move to higher altitude, in the belief that the lower air pressure would allow the heart to work more effectively and therefore help to clear the lungs.** Following this line of thought, Conan Doyle spent the next few years moving his family to Switzerland and Egypt in hopes of improving his wife’s health. While it seemed to bring results, all of the moving and living in hotels was expensive and disruptive to the couple’s children, Mary and Kinglsey. Fortunately, in 1895, a family friend and tuberculosis sufferer, Grant Allen, told Conan Doyle that Hindhead, in Surrey, was elevated enough to have a beneficial climate. Never a man to waste time, the author bought a piece of land and in October of 1897, the family moved into their new home, Undershaw.

Alistair Duncan, who has previously described Conan Doyle’s years in Norwood and traced his (and Holmes’) connections to places in London, now turns his knack for painstaking research to  Undershaw. He combines great events with small to give the reader a detailed picture of the author’s life over the next decade, one of tremendous change for him, both personally and professionally.

One of the most important events in Conan Doyle’s life, and that of his family, occurred while Undershaw was still being built. On March 15th of 1897, he met 23 year-old Jean Leckie. Although still married, he fell hard for the aspiring opera singer and began an intense platonic relationship (a courtship, really) with her that would last throughout his time at Undershaw and would ultimately be the cause of his leaving it.

Professionally, Conan Doyle still found himself tied to the man who had given him a career. Holmes may have been gone, but he was definitely not forgotten. Shortly after the family moved, the Sherlock Holmes play which had consisted solely of rumors became reality. Duncan details the negotiations, pitfalls (including a rewrite necessitated when the only copy was destroyed in a hotel fire), and the play’s ultimate success–provided that the audience could actually hear the actors. It was this project that lead Conan Doyle to write the frustrated exclamation beloved and used by pastiche writers everywhere, “You may marry or murder or do what you like with him!”*** Interestingly enough, he wasn’t quite serious about this; Duncan writes that one issue Conan Doyle particularly wanted to discuss with Gillette when they met in May of 1899 was the actor/writer’s plan to give Holmes a romantic interest. We know he did, of course, but apparently there were boundaries to the character that his creator was not willing to cross.

Never one to hide away in his study, Conan Doyle was quick to get involved in local, national, and international affairs. His concern with British politics led him to write letters, articles, and occasionally run for office. It also led him to serve in the 2nd Boer War as a medical officer. In February 1900 he sailed to South Africa, where he served as Secretary/Registrar for the Langman Military Hospital in Blomfontein. He wasn’t there long, but by the time he left, in July of that year, he had written articles, a decent portion of his definitive book on the war and, on the steam ship home, met a young journalist, Bertram Fletcher Robinson, who would, although he didn’t realize it, be instrumental in bringing Sherlock Holmes up out of that chasm and making him eternal.

I have always admired people who set out to write biography. When you write fiction, you’re in charge. Of course you write what you see, what you know, what your characters tell you to write…but ultimately, your book is yours to make up as you go along. Historians have to deal with facts (or at least they should), but typically they have a multitude of events, people, and sources to work with. Don’t have the material for one angle? Choose another. Do the Boston Massacre witness accounts conflict?✝  That’s all right–you have room, and you can even make that your thesis. A biographer, however, is limited to the facts that exist about one person in particular. If the source material isn’t there, it’s just not. He can’t make up the facts. He can’t make the person into someone he wasn’t. And when the biographer chooses a limited time in his subject’s life to examine, it can be difficult to piece all of the events from that briefer period together into a cohesive whole, particularly when some years are more eventful than others.

In An Entirely New Country, Duncan achieves this admirably, and the result is a valuable resource, or a nice introduction for anyone who has yet to read a complete biography of Arthur Conan Doyle.  We get a full view of Conan Doyle’s Undershaw years, almost as if we were his nosy next-door neighbor. He’s playing golf again–when will that Hindhead Golf Club be successful? Is that a new car? He surely is a speed-demon. Did you read about his first-class wicket against W.G. Grace? The Rifle Club’s shooting at the range over at Undershaw, perhaps you should join. Who’s that with him now–is it that woman? I wonder what Louise thinks about her. Is it true he’s writing about Sherlock Holmes again? This time, however, the nosy neighbors have plenty of photographs, a bibliography, helpful footnotes and supplemental information about the people in Conan Doyle’s life, such as Charles Frohman and George Edalji. Particularly enjoyable are Duncan’s own, often wry, observations. He looks at his subject with a clear eye. When Conan Doyle comments on a fellow medical officer’s weight (he appears to have disliked the man), for example, Duncan points out that in photographs, the gentleman looks to have had the same type build as Conan Doyle himself.  He provides interesting speculations on individuals’ feelings, motives, and events, and is careful to identify them as such.✝✝ What, for instance, did Strand editor Herbert Greenhough Smith think when he realized that Collier’s Norman Hapgood managed to get the stories he’d been angling for for years? Was it printable?  Duncan also doesn’t succumb to the biographer’s temptation to take his subject’s side in every matter. Everyone can acknowledge that it had to have been very difficult to live with the changes tuberculosis forced upon his family life, but not all of Conan Doyle’s coping strategies were beyond reproach and, as Duncan points out, some of his actions caused pain (to which he seemed oblivious) for both his immediate and extended family. Duncan is also perceptive in pointing out that, while Doyle’s marriage to Miss Leckie, after the period of mourning for his wife had been fulfilled, brought him happiness and a new beginning, it did not do the same for his children. Because life, after all, is not a story, and we don’t get an Empty House.

Don’t faint again, Watson, but Undershaw is in danger, and we’ll need more than brandy!

That being said, An Entirely New Country was written with a resurrection in mind. As most of you no doubt know, Undershaw, now the only extant home of Conan Doyle, has fallen into a state of terrible disrepair and is now in danger of being broken up into flats. The Undershaw Preservation Trust has been working tirelessly to prevent this, and to find a way to preserve Undershaw as a single dwelling. For more information on the Trust, its goals, the legal battle it faces against development, and ways in which you can support its efforts, please see http://www.saveundershaw.com/.  Alistair Duncan has also pledged that 50% of the net royalties of An Entirely New Country should go to the efforts to save Undershaw.

In my own efforts to support the UPT and fill your bookshelves, I’ll send a copy of An Entirely New Country to the first two commenters. Already have a copy? You can have your choice of one of Duncan’s other books, or an item from the UPT shop of equivalent value. An Entirely New Country is available on the Baker Street Babes and MX websites, the Save Undershaw shop (on the Trust’s website) and, of course, your usual online booksellers.

Star Rating: 5 out of 5 “This is a wonderful book that gets it right.” 

Notes:

*As we mentioned in the last review, Sherlock Holmes had quite a few imitators, and some predecessors. Fans could get their deduction fixes from Poe’s Dupin, Gaboriau’s Lecoq, Barr’s Eugene Valmont, Grant Allen’s Miss Cayley, and many, many others.

**First promoted by German physician Hermann Brehmer in mid-century. The family’s efforts to prolong Louise’s life were successful; however, she eventually succumbed to the disease on July 4, 1906.

***Honestly, some of us should have that embroidered on a pillow and displayed prominently in our sitting rooms.

✝Ohhhh, they do. To an insane degree.

✝✝One thing he does not speculate on is some kind of murder conspiracy or any ill-will between Conan Doyle and Bertram Fletcher Robinson. Duncan’s evidence that the men remained on good terms throughout their friendship is conclusive.

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Filed under Alistair Duncan, Bertram Fletcher Robinson, Boer War, Doyle Family, Five-star reviews, Holmes in Theatre, MX Publishing, Non-fiction, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Spiritualism, The Great War, Undershaw

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March 7, 2012 · 3:03 am

Roden, Barbara. The Thames Horror. Ashcroft, B.C.:Calabash Press, 2011

Bees, Boring? Perish the Thought!

If Sherlock Holmes ever gets bored with his bee hives out there on the Sussex Downs and decides to pick up one of the many new adventures in which “he” is featured (let’s not flatter ourselves; he probably won’t), chances are, he won’t recognize himself.  After all, since the very first pastiche appeared (J. M. Barrie’s in 1893), Holmes and (sometimes) Watson have been to Mars, Moscow, and Minnesota. They’ve battled vampires, Cthulhu, and the Phantom of the Opera, and in one exploit even encountered a Time Lord.  The good doctor may have “an experience of women that extends over many nations and three separate continents,”* but when all is tabulated, his friend may have him beat.  After so many adventures exotic, chaotic or erotic, even the easily bored Detective probably yearns for the familiar. His many fans are no different. Fortunately, BSI member Barbara Roden’s short story collection, The Thames Horror, contains four stories sure to appeal to fans of both the traditional and the outré, all told in an impeccable Watson voice.

Dr. John Watson: Often Imitated, Never Duplicated

Of course, Watson never hesitates to include a little supernatural frisson when the story warranted, even if his friend is a scoffer. Ms. Roden does the same, beginning with the gorgeously titled “The Things That Shall Come Upon Them.” We begin, as we often do, with Holmes going through his pile of newspapers and sharing his discoveries with his friend. He observes, with a mixture of vanity and irritation that, since Watson began chronicling his adventures for the public, a plethora of similar detectives, all followed by their own faithful Boswells, have appeared. There’s Max Carrados, Martin Hewitt (whose “doings..appear with almost monotonous regularity”) and myriad others, including the fantastically named Flaxman Low, who specializes in cases “beyond the understanding of mere mortals.”** Holmes must have gotten used to the spiritualist talk of Watson’s agent, Arthur Conan Doyle, because he admits that Low may not be “quite the charlatan he might seem.” A good thing, too, because when Holmes and Watson board the train to investigate some disturbing incidents at Lufford Abbey, they find themselves sharing a compartment–and a case–with Low himself. It seems that while Holmes’ client, Mrs. Fitzgerald, believes these events have a natural explanation, her husband is not so sure.  To their credit, the two detectives don’t waste time arguing over whose approach is best. They investigate together, and let the results speak for themselves. Is Lufford Abbey haunted by a spirit conjured by the late black magic expert, Julian Karswell, or simply a little more open to treasure hunters than it should be? In the end, everyone finds the results satisfactory. See if you agree.

The supernatural thread continues with the remarkable “Of the Origin of the Hound of the Baskervilles.” You may believe that, with all of the film and print versions of HOUN available, there is nothing more to be said on the matter of the vicious glowing dog and its owner’s schemes. You would be wrong, just as Holmes was, every time he told Watson he had no talent for dissimulation. For it seems that, all this time, what we thought we knew about the Hound was only illusion, and in his final days, Watson is driven to explain what really happened. What follows turns everything you thought you knew about the Baskerville curse on its head, and even if you get the twist early on, you’re still in for a rich, atmospheric tale that has to be the truth.

After all that running about on the moors, you might be in the mood for something calmer.  Ms. Roden supplies this  Holmesian equivalent of chamomile tea in “The Adventure of the Suspect Servant.” Here, she presents one of those tantalizing cases which never made it to print–the little matter Holmes handled for Mrs. Cecil Forrester.*** A cautionary tale of vice’s unintended consequence, it gives Holmes the opportunity to exercise both his deductive skills and his compassion.

The final story, “The Thames Horror,” is my favorite. Derived from actual unsolved cases of the period, it takes Holmes and Watson into the dirty London underbelly they’re used to, and far darker recesses of human nature they’ve yet to encounter. In June of 1889,  Scotland Yard Inspector Alex MacDonald prevails upon Sherlock Holmes to help him discover who has been dropping brown paper packages† containing surgically mutilated body parts into the Thames. Fortunately for the Yard, this killer is neither as public or prolific as Jack the Ripper, who terrorized the city the previous autumn. He seems to be content with one victim per year, so London has been spared the panic and unrest that surrounded those crimes. That could end as soon as some clever journalist connects the dots, however, so a quick solution is essential. Using both traditional methods and the new profiling theories put forth by Police Surgeon Dr. Thomas Bond, Holmes and his comrades track the killer to his deceptively quiet office. I’ll go no further, for fear of spoilers, but if you enjoy shocking moments, you won’t be disappointed.

No matter how you like your Holmes, The Thames Horror has what you’re craving. Ms. Roden seamlessly combines pastiche and canon detail, and her Holmes and Watson remain in character throughout. Those of you who avoid pastiche for fear of the unexpected goofy moment or emotional outburst need not worry. The one exception may be Watson’s retelling of HOUN, but it could be argued that Holmes is eminently reasonable throughout, and typically fearless. It’s the situation itself which is shocking and irrational. Each story has its own atmosphere. “The Things That Shall Come Upon Them” is a creepy puzzle with some moments of dry humor, while “Baskerville” is almost unrelievedly tense. “The Adventure of the Suspect Servant” provides a change of pace; it’s a charming domestic piece which ends with everything right in the world. “The Thames Horror” combines accurate historical and forensic detail with the action, urgency, and melancholy that, for me, marks a truly wonderful pastiche.

Another common complaint of readers who stick strictly to canon is that “no one can tell a Holmes story like Watson.” And that’s true. I would argue that there are writers who can do just as well using their own voices, but I realize that most of you won’t believe me. Unfortunately, Watson seems to be busy enough that he’s left writing behind, and many books purporting to be from his pen patently are not. Ms. Roden, however, has a marvelous “Watson voice,” avoiding all the clutter that frequently crops up when someone tries to imitate 19th century writing. Although she avoids the popular “provenance” story, one has to believe that the author pulled these tales directly from the tin dispatch box.

Many people think it must be easy to write pastiche. After all, someone’s already done the hard part for you; they’ve created the characters, done the world-building, even found an appealing style.  All you have to do is throw in a plot they haven’t thought of (and in Conan Doyle’s case, he’s done a lot of that footwork as well). But it isn’t that simple. Writing pastiche is a bit like walking through someone else’s house blindfolded; it’s awfully easy to stub your toe and break something valuable. With The Thames Horror, Barbara Roden successfully navigates 221B Baker Street, with a five-star result.

The first three stories in The Thames Horror have all previously appeared in other anthologies, while “The Thames Horror is original to this collection.  The book is available as an e-book only. You can purchase it for Kindle on Amazon, or in electronic format (suitable for your Nook or Kobo) directly from the publisher, Calabash Press (ash-tree.bc.ca/calabash).

Star Rating: 5 out of 5 “This is a wonderful book that gets it right.”

Footnotes:

*From “The Sign of Four.” It seems reasonable to assume from the canon that Watson had at least two wives, possibly three. One researcher, Brad Keefauver, claims to have found evidence of six!

**Created by Hesketh V. Hesketh-Prichard (1876-1922), a friend of Conan Doyle’s, Flaxman Low is  the world’s first psychic detective.

*** Mary Morstan served as the Forresters’ governess, and it’s probable Watson held back on this one to protect the privacy of his wife’s friend and former employer.

†Tied up with string, and also mohair boot laces and Venetian blind cord.

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Filed under Barbara Roden, Calabash Press, Collection (Stories by the same author), Crossovers, Five-star reviews, Holmes out of his Element, Supernatural, Traditional

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