The Beasts of Holmes

One of the most fascinating aspects of the Sherlock Holmes stories are the untold stories. For as long as I can remember I have been a fan of Holmes. I was very young when I read my first three adventures—I ‘m positive that two of them were The Norwood Builder and The Speckled Band, and I think the third may have been The Red-Headed League. One of the things that’s always intrigued me, though, are the references Watson makes to some of Holmes’ other adventures.

And it turns out I’m not alone in this. Many authors have tried expanding on these references, one of the most famous collections being The Exploits of Sherlock Holmes. It’s a collaboration between Adrian Conan Doyle and John Dickson Carr, with the two men sharing the writing duties on the first six stories and Conan Doyle writing the final six on his own – the quality takes a nosedive after the first half, but some of the stories in the first half are absolute gems. But is it mere coincidence that some of the most fascinating references involve animals?

Think about it. There’s the Giant Rat of Sumatra, a mythical beast that sounds so awesome, I can’t resist capitalising its name (even though it appears in lowercase in the canon). There’s the affair involving the politician, the lighthouse, and the cormorant. There’s that mysterious worm unknown to science, and the sinister-sounding red leech. All of these sound like terrific ideas for Holmes stories… but unfortunately, Sir Arthur never got around to them. But the next-best thing is available in French: René Reouven’s Le Bestiaire de Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock Holmes’ Bestiary). In this book, Reouven tackles Sherlock Holmes as only he can, and he delivers four stories about various animals that are referred to throughout the canon.

The Name's Fleming. Ian Fleming.

James Bond is an international phenomenon. I nominate that sentence as my contribution for the coveted Understatement of the Year Award. When Skyfall, the 23^rd Bond picture, was released last year, people flocked to the cinemas en masse, and as a result the movie generated over $1 billion in revenue. It’s amazing that a character whose exploits were first published in 1953 remains relevant to this day, and all this was the product of Ian Fleming’s fertile imagination.

I’ve read almost all the Bond novels – You Only Live Twice is the only exception – and I’m a big fan. But I knew nothing about the author, Ian Fleming. What was he like? How did he get the idea for Bond? I had no idea. All I could tell you was that he was British and that his Jamaican house was called Goldeneye. As readers of my blog might recall, I decided that in 2013 I would read all of Fleming’s Bond novels. But to do this properly, I felt it was best to first learn more about Ian Fleming. And so I picked up Ian Fleming: The Man Behind James Bond by Andrew Lycett.

Red Dawn

Time has not been kind to William DeAndrea’s novel Cronus, which I would classify more as a thriller than a mystery. As I read it, I was reminded uncannily of the 1984 movie Red Dawn. If you haven’t seen it and you want a good laugh, I’d recommend it. Simply put, it doesn’t age well— it requires the paranoia of the Cold War to make it work. Seen from the viewpoint of someone born in 1993, it just seems incredibly silly. (In Red Dawn, for instance, I always burst out laughing when the main characters pack essential stuff to hide out from the Russians… and they’re sure to take a football, just so they can play a good ol’ American game later in the movie. Hoorah for patriotism!) Not all thrillers from this time are bad—The Hunt for Red October, for instance, has aged quite well. But like I said, the same can’t be said of Cronus.

Le maharadjah meurt

— Oui, et la réponse est bien simple: j’ai une sainte horreur du mystère, je ne supporte pas l’inexplicable. Le moindre tour de passe-passe m’empêche de dormir.

( "Yes, and the answer is simple: I am terrified of mystery, I can't stand the unexplained. The smallest conjuring trick keeps me awake at night.")

—Patrick Mallory, Le Tigre Borgne

My previous forays into the work of Paul Halter were both flawed, but fascinating. Le Roi duDésordre and La Tête du Tigre both had very interesting ideas at heart, but both had problems—Roi more so than Tête in my opinion. But it was with eagerness that I started reading Le Tigre Borgne (The One-Eyed Tiger). The choice was a strategic one: I’ve already sampled one work from both of Halter’s series: the Owen Burns series (Roi) and the Dr. Twist/Inspector Hurst series (Tête). So, I thought to myself, why not see how Halter can handle himself without a series character? It was either this or Le Brouillard Rouge (The Red Fog), and I’m glad I made the choice I did.

Le Tigre Borgne is an unusual novel. It takes place in the 1870s, and much of the action is confined to India. This is not the realistic (yet colourful) India of H. R. F. Keating’s The Perfect Murder; rather, Paul Halter throws realism to the wind and paints a portrait of a magical place where anything can happen, and where a sensible young man like our hero, Patrick Mallory, can witness things that will rock his most elementary beliefs. Halter is actually surprisingly successful in terms of atmosphere this time around—while his Indian setting is extremely romanticized, it’s effective, and it is fascinating. Halter makes an actual place out of his setting; he managed to transport me somewhere else, and captivated me thoroughly.