A Softened Holmes
Nov. 5th, 2012 11:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mtvesselApr 2012
The House of Silk - Anthony Horowitz - Orion Books, 2011
* * *
This is the first Sherlock Holmes novel officially sanctioned by Conan Doyle's estate, and my response was similar to that of the official sequel to Peter Pan. It is a perfectly decent novel that tells a new story with the characters and locations of the original. There is nothing wrong with it - and that is really its problem.
The narrative takes the form of a memoir written a year after Holmes' death detailing a case that was too sensational to be published during his lifetime (or, indeed, for 100 years after Watson's). After some scene-setting that conveniently packs Watson's family off to a sick relative, we are introduced to a Wimbledon art dealer called Edmund Carstairs who is being stalked by a man in a flat cap, a member of an American gang that had held up a train, destroyed some valuable paintings and killed a junior employee. While tracking Carstairs' mysterious pursuer, Holmes makes use of the Baker Street Irregulars, but things take an ugly turn when one of the boys disappears.
There is no doubt that Horowitz has done his homework. There are numerous references to other cases which turn out to have some bearing on current events, and the characterisation and dialogue are mostly spot on. Holmes himself is, I think, somewhat less heartless than in the original stories - he expresses emotions like remorse and concern for the wellbeing of children which are not obviously in the repertoire of Conan Doyle's version - but I suppose that is necessary to make him palatable for modern audiences. The plot mostly hangs together well, and there are several examples of the clever twists and surprises that mark the originals. We are promised a sensational case and it duly is.
However, it simply doesn't have the impact of, say, The Hound of the Baskervilles, and this is down to the writing style. Compare and contrast these two descriptions of Watson's Afghan adventures, one from A Study in Scarlet:
I think it is fairly obvious which is which. Neither is badly written, but the styles are very different. Conan Doyle's version is clipped, almost brusque, with some casual racism ("murderous" Ghazis) and an assumption that the reader would be familiar with Maiwand, know what "Jezail bullets" are and would recognise a subclavian artery. There is none of the touchy-feely consideration for others apparent in the Horowitz version, with its concern for Indian as well as British casualties and his good-hearted and loyal (rather than devoted and courageous) orderly, who carries Watson back to friendly lines presumably on his own back rather than throwing him over a packhorse.
And that's the big difference. Conan Doyle trusts his readers and so dispenses with unnecessary data dumps. His stories are notable for the high proportion of dialogue and the minimalistic setups for the plot, whereas here the tone is notably more literary, with greater description of place and Victorian detail. And Conan Doyle's stories almost never include back-references, while The House of Silk is full of them. The result is that the latter feels like an exercise in world-building and nostalgia and lacks the brutal and energetic vitality of the original. It's good, but in a hundred years I think that Conan Doyle's stories will be still be read and I'm not so sure that this one will be.
The House of Silk - Anthony Horowitz - Orion Books, 2011
* * *
This is the first Sherlock Holmes novel officially sanctioned by Conan Doyle's estate, and my response was similar to that of the official sequel to Peter Pan. It is a perfectly decent novel that tells a new story with the characters and locations of the original. There is nothing wrong with it - and that is really its problem.
The narrative takes the form of a memoir written a year after Holmes' death detailing a case that was too sensational to be published during his lifetime (or, indeed, for 100 years after Watson's). After some scene-setting that conveniently packs Watson's family off to a sick relative, we are introduced to a Wimbledon art dealer called Edmund Carstairs who is being stalked by a man in a flat cap, a member of an American gang that had held up a train, destroyed some valuable paintings and killed a junior employee. While tracking Carstairs' mysterious pursuer, Holmes makes use of the Baker Street Irregulars, but things take an ugly turn when one of the boys disappears.
There is no doubt that Horowitz has done his homework. There are numerous references to other cases which turn out to have some bearing on current events, and the characterisation and dialogue are mostly spot on. Holmes himself is, I think, somewhat less heartless than in the original stories - he expresses emotions like remorse and concern for the wellbeing of children which are not obviously in the repertoire of Conan Doyle's version - but I suppose that is necessary to make him palatable for modern audiences. The plot mostly hangs together well, and there are several examples of the clever twists and surprises that mark the originals. We are promised a sensational case and it duly is.
However, it simply doesn't have the impact of, say, The Hound of the Baskervilles, and this is down to the writing style. Compare and contrast these two descriptions of Watson's Afghan adventures, one from A Study in Scarlet:
The campaign brought honours and promotion to many, but for me it had nothing but misfortune and disaster. I was removed from my brigade and attached to the Berkshires, with whom I served at the fatal battle of Maiwand. There I was struck on the shoulder by a Jezail bullet, which shattered the bone and grazed the subclavian artery. I should have fallen into the hands of the murderous Ghazis were it not for the devotion and courage shown by Murray, my orderly, who threw me across a packhorse, and succeeded in bringing me safely to the British lines.
For example, it was my cousin, Arthur, who recommended me as Assistant Surgeon to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers because he thought it would be a useful experience for me and he could not possibly have foreseen that a month later I would be dispatched to Afghanistan. At that time the conflict which came to be known as the Second Anglo-Afghan War had not even commenced. And what of the Ghazi who, with a twitch of the finger, sent a bullet hurtling into my shoulder at Maiwand? Nine hundred British and Indian souls died that day and it was doubtless his intention that I would be one of them. But his aim was awry, and although I was badly wounded, I was saved by Jack Murray, my loyal and good-hearted orderly who managed to carry me over two miles of hostile territory and back to British lines.
I think it is fairly obvious which is which. Neither is badly written, but the styles are very different. Conan Doyle's version is clipped, almost brusque, with some casual racism ("murderous" Ghazis) and an assumption that the reader would be familiar with Maiwand, know what "Jezail bullets" are and would recognise a subclavian artery. There is none of the touchy-feely consideration for others apparent in the Horowitz version, with its concern for Indian as well as British casualties and his good-hearted and loyal (rather than devoted and courageous) orderly, who carries Watson back to friendly lines presumably on his own back rather than throwing him over a packhorse.
And that's the big difference. Conan Doyle trusts his readers and so dispenses with unnecessary data dumps. His stories are notable for the high proportion of dialogue and the minimalistic setups for the plot, whereas here the tone is notably more literary, with greater description of place and Victorian detail. And Conan Doyle's stories almost never include back-references, while The House of Silk is full of them. The result is that the latter feels like an exercise in world-building and nostalgia and lacks the brutal and energetic vitality of the original. It's good, but in a hundred years I think that Conan Doyle's stories will be still be read and I'm not so sure that this one will be.