Sherlock Holmes and the Hapsburg Tiara

Who knew Dr. Watson had a foot fetish? Author Alan Vanneman combines traditional and new elements of the Sherlock Holmes legend, adding historical characters such as Winston Churchill to the mix. Narrator Simon Vance adopts the dry, literary tones of a classic Holmes radio drama, imparting wry humor detectable only to listeners paying close attention to the plot. Vance's narrative technique, best described as "excess within control," is most evident in scenes of Dr. Watson's torrid affair with a conniving countess. The explicit language sounds almost incongruous with his proper tone. Every character receives enough differentiation to remain identifiable without compromising the subtlety of Vance's delivery. And Winston Churchill sounds just like a recording of the man himself. R.P.L. (c) AudioFile 2004, Portland, Maine

January 5, 2004
After his weak debut, Sherlock Holmes and the Giant Rat of Sumatra
(2002), which pitted the master sleuth against a race of intelligent rat-men, Vanneman provides a more convincing adventure for Holmes and Watson—a swashbuckling tale of international intrigue centered on a valuable diamond and mysterious Austrian nobles who may be involved in multiple murders. As before, however, the book goes on too long. When Winston Churchill enlists the aid of the Baker Street duo in tracing a man posing as an archduke, Cecil Rhodes summarily dismisses them from the case. Rhodes proceeds to fix a coroner's inquest, thus thwarting them from independently pursuing justice. Years later, the pair resumes the now-cold trail across Europe, accompanied by a reformed street urchin who's been adopted by the good doctor. Offstage much of the time, Holmes employs his spying and burglary skills more than his deductive abilities. Though the author ingeniously adds to the canon by having Watson serve, like Conan Doyle, as a field surgeon during the Boer War, he undermines this plausible twist by once again spending many pages detailing Watson's amorous pursuits ("she grasped me by the most shameless of handles"), a far cry from Doyle's Victorian reticence and a pattern that won't endear his pastiches to proper Sherlockians.