The House of Silk: A Sherlock Holmes Novel

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Rent them before you see this book because Horowitz worships at this altar. The introduction contains a nod to the Granda production that featured Brett.

You won’t find La Casa de la Seda (The House of Silk) on most top ten lists of things to do in Barcelona, perhaps because it made the mistake of not being designed by Gaudi. In fact this 18th century Baroque beauty predates Barcelona’s famous Modernisme architectural movement by a century or more and was the home of influential Guild of Silk Makers, one of the wealthiest merchant groups in the city during their peak. Guided Tours Happily, I was ever so pleased to read this book as I felt that Mr Horowitz kept the tradition of Holmes so alive and made the mystery present in The House of Silk one that kept me guessing. Isn't that what a great mystery book does?

As the book opens, Holmes is dead and Watson is an elderly man who's decided to write up one of his friend's old investigations - a case so hush-hush that it can't be released for 100 years. I shouldn’t talk much about the plot either, aside from saying it had twists. Red herrings were de rigueur, as were improbable deductions. (That’s part of the fun.) Without divulging details, I will say the principal crime was pretty horrific. It was certainly conceivable, but I think ACD would have avoided it. That was one of the few aspects of the book that didn’t seem true to the canon.

As “The House of Silk” opens, Mrs. Watson has decided to retire with some friends in the country, and Dr. Watson has decided to come stay with Holmes at 221-B Baker Street in his old rooms. Horowitz deftly combines a perilous, and foreboding mystery shrouded in a spooky, historically accurate setting that made me feel completely immersed in the case and enveloped in the freezing cold and fog along side Holmes and Watson. Both of which made me shiver! As complicated as Horowitz tried to make the story, the crimes of the House of Silk were obvious to me, as were some of the connections between the characters. He could not have been more than thirteen years old and yet, like all of them, he was already quite grown up. Childhood, after all, is the first precious coin that poverty steals from a child.When the detective arrives - with Watson and Carstairs - they find O'Donaghue murdered in his hotel room. Ross, who seems badly frightened by this development, runs off. Could he have seen the killer? Show Holmes a drop of water and he would deduce the existence of the Atlantic. Show it to me and I would look for a tap. That was the difference between us." – Watson The plot is well written and has an adult theme which is relevant to what we see today in distressing amounts. It is not turned into some twisted thing that distracts from the book and is dealt with in a perfect balance. Clever, brave and relevant. The ending (who-dunnit) was quite clever. But the subject matter (the denouement) was very disturbing.

However, the retired military doctor is coming to 221B, Baker Street, to stay with his close friend for a few days as his wife set out to visit her old employer in the country. That’s when it happens. Edmund Carstairs, an art gallery partner, visits them with a complaint that he is being followed. He believes it’s from an Irish gang, whom he had to fight indirectly with a year ago, related to the robbery of a few paintings in the US. As Dr. Watson had shared earlier, this was a dark tale that needed to be put away for a long, long time. And Horowitz shines a light on some of the darker elements of Victorian life that Doyle never would have approached. Thus, the crux of the mystery lies in one of those dark corners, which some readers may find hard to read. A frustrating novel--Horowitz gets the style mostly right, and the plot moves at a nonstop clip, but the mystery itself is disappointing. From the very beginning, I had an inkling of where the story was going, lessening both the suspense and the emotional impact that the novel could generate. While there were some clever twists along the way--Holmes' time in prison, for example--even in these examples it felt as if Horowitz was simply reacting to other plots rather than coming up with something new. To be fair, referencing other plots is the novel's strength; the connections to Doyle's stories come fast and furious. But I kept waiting for a transcendent moment when the novel would take Doyle's detective to the next level...and it didn't really come.How does the House of Silk fit into this conundrum and what are we to make of the strip of silk around the boy's wrist? That is the crux of the matter and once again I am blameworthy. I was warned!" It's 1890. We ascend the 17 steps up to the first floor of 221B Baker Street. All is as we might expect. The usual cast assemble. Mrs Hudson is there with a plate of scones. Wiggins and the Baker Street irregulars make a welcome appearance, as do rat-faced Inspector Lestrade and Mycroft ("He is still alive, by the way. When I last heard, he had been knighted and was the chancellor of a well-known university"). Moriarty ("'I am a mathematician, Dr Watson … I am also what you would doubtless term a criminal'"). Poor Mary, Watson's ailing wife. Outside, fog and hansom cabs. Inside, Holmes, with his Strad and his 7% solution. Even the print, I mean I know this must sound ridiculous but it actually supports and envelopes; embraces the pace and tone and rhythm of this story. Call me crazy or trust me, it just all works. Well!