The House of Silk: A Sherlock Holmes Novel

It seems churlish to criticise this book. The author is so proudly and disarmingly pleased with his handiwork, and insists on taking us into his confidence (in a note at the end) as to how he accomplished it, that I hesitate to point out that it contains several inexplicable deficiencies. The story as a whole is a real cracker – a genuine mystery, and the reader is always agog to find out what’s going to happen next. The pace is too hectic, however, as we’re whisked from one mysterious highlight to another with scarcely a pause for breath. Dr Watson, on the other hand, is rather too garrulous, and pontificates and reminisces at the drop of a hat – largely to help fill up space, it appears, to gratify the publishers. But the timing is all wrong. We are told that the action is taking place in 1890 and that Holmes and his exploits are, by that time, famous throughout the land. But in actual fact, the short stories did not start appearing until July 1891. They were published, we learn, in the Cornhill Magazine, whereas in reality they were the making of The Strand Magazine. And Watson is apparently writing in 1915, long after the death of Holmes, whereas we know that Holmes was still active in August 1914 and scarcely in his dotage at that time. It might be best to think of Holmes and Watson, as conceived by Horowitz, as occupying some kind of parallel universe to the one conceived by Conan Doyle. One small point that niggles is that the strange behaviour of the Irish scullery boy in the house at Wimbledon is truly never explained. It’s enjoyable, in short, but not quite the genuine article.

"I say, Holmes! There's some upstart pretending to be me writing about you. Damned impertinence."Holmes chuckled and pointed his pipe at a sheet of paper Mrs Hudson had just placed next to his breakfast things."Oh Watson, you dear old thing. I'd better come clean. It was me who wrote the book. Quite easy really. Knowing you these long years, it was a straightforward endeavour. All I had to do was insert four examples of your cumbersomely wooden prose on every page, along with your routine errors of fact.""But why, Holmes? Why on earth - " Watson was cut off by his own spluttering."This missive," Holmes tapped the sheet of paper with his pipe, " informs me of sales exceeding 3,000 copies. Something of a bonus. But my purpose is somewhat more interesting."Footsteps were heard coming up the staircase."Hah!" exclaimed Holmes. "I think, my dear friend, you will learn from our guest the part that my disguising myself as you plays in unravelling a wickedly foul conspiracy that strikes at the heart of government and even threatens the safety of our beloved queen."If the above gets one out of ten, Horowitz gets ten. Complete with peasoupers.

I have read other books by Anthony Horowitz and found them quite enjoyable, dont be put off that he writes childrens books too as this is a very different kettle of fish.I am a big fan of the original Sherlock Holmes books and was more than a little unsure if another author could capture the feeling of the era and pace of Arthur Conan Doyles creation. I was not disappointed, it was as if a lost book of Conan Doyles had been discovered and put into print. A thoroughly good read, dont just take my word for it as it has been officially been endorsed by the Conan Doyle family (the only author to have done so). He could have just written it without endorsement but it was they who contacted him to write a new book for Holmes, and there is also the follow up Moriarty to savour.........Now where is my companion.....“Come Watson, come! The game is afoot! Not a word! Into your clothes and come!”

I discovered Anthony Horowitz via Trigger Mortis, and I do know Sherlock Holmes, and this seemed well reviewed, and I have been wondering what I would want to add to the Holmes canon, so I wanted to give this a try.It reads very well, very much like the original Conan Doyle, though not quite as cloyingly gallant at times, as poor Victorian writing can be. The idioms and details are excellently observed. The plot is initially opaque, and one continues with anticipation to discover how it all links together. In this it is excellent. The sensationalism includes the kind of exotic details beloved of Conan Doyle, as well as satisfyingly threatening, mysterious, and villainous antagonists.The real differences between the contemporary and the original writings are in those villainous machinations, as well as in the lack of pious gallantry. The post-modern element is that everyone lies or obfuscates the truth. Liberationists can be satisfied that no sacred cows are left unmolested, and almost every kind of figure of authority and public trust emerges as a villain. The scandal of the central evil is such that the perpetrators are left unpunished because it simply cannot be countenanced that the appalling truth can come to light; in other words, in the end, no one knows, which reiterates the post-modern agnostic dogma. So no one and nothing can be trusted. Marriage, the church, charities for poor children, the government, the aristocracy, the police; all are in some way culpable, and thus unworthy of respect, and even Holmes himself cannot be relied upon to always do the right thing; all are rotten.In this, he went far further than Conan Doyle ever would. Doyle never simultaneously vilified all the pillars of society. The actual crimes at the heart of this plot Doyle never included; they would be too appalling, or too indecent, to describe. Oddly though, even if unpalatable to be described, that which constituted crime has changed in emphasis over the years, and it would be interesting to be able to compare just how such things would be received back then.Horowitz cleverly combines Doyle’s style, and pursuit of the sensational, to the modern conclusion. In this he loses something of Doyle’s basic optimism. Doyle basically believed that problems can be solved, and that human nature, though mysterious and inexplicable, can be governed virtuously. This novel maybe goes so far as to contradict that assumed world view.

Sherlock Holmes is dead and now his ageing companion Dr Watson also teeters towards death. With no-one left to answer to, the great detective's biographer puts pen to paper one last time to document two very different, yet inexplicably connected, mysteries. When Edmund Carstairs turns up at 221B Baker Street, he unfolds a strange tale of ruined artworks, a pair of villainous brothers and a stranger in a flat cap.Holmes and Watson begin their investigation, but are soon drawn into another far more sinister mystery, where the oddly named House of Silk spreads its dark influence across the city, frustrating the duo at every turn. Following a visit to an opium den, Holmes finds himself accused of murder and thrown into prison, and with a host of distinguished witnesses on the side of the prosecution, it seems that even he cannot avoid the hangman's noose...Having long been a fan of the author's TV work (in particular 'Foyle's War'), I was keen to see what he would do with Conan Doyle's great detective. From the outset, I felt as if I were reading the work of ACD himself - the narrative is so similar to Doyle's style that at times it felt positively uncanny. As with all good detective stories, the text is littered with clues that (with any luck) the reader won't realise until the denouement. In this case, one of those clues was a little too obvious for my taste, but I have to say the aforementioned denouement, when it arrived, was superbly executed and totally unexpected.Anthony Horowitz captures not only the voice of Dr Watson, but constructs a thoroughly believable and authentic setting for his heroes. I can't wait to get my hands on his next offering - 'Moriarty'. The game's afoot...