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blessi 's review for:
The Sign of Four
by Arthur Conan Doyle
Perhaps it is that second acclimation to the Victorian romanticism writing style of Doctor John H. Watson, but among the earliest works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Sign of Four (1890) feels more exceptional than the first. It is still a convoluted piece of mystery fiction; the devil is in archaic details and chemistry of crime, and every other sentence requires a remarkable amount of vocabulary search for nautical and goldsmith lingos — but it is still worth reading between the lines.
For some reason, the chapters feel shorter this time—and unlike the first novel, each ends with a thought-provoking spectacle or indelible twist that has this particularly amusing and haunting effect in the following pages. The plot, which centers on the stolen Indian treasure, is so cinematic that the thrill of the chase pulsates from the streets of South London to River Thames and across the prose.
One of the fascinating moments of this is ‘The Episode of the Barrel’ in chapter seven, when John and Sherlock spend an entire graveyard shift looking for the culprit, only to realize that it is a false trail; the two, although having no sleep, end up in fits of laughter instead. It is monumental because it depicts Sherlock as capable of human emotions and frailties, perhaps the first of many, thus rendering the tale as more than an omnipotent casebook; it is also a friendship adventure. There is more of it in this second novel—ample enough to make you root for Holmes and Watson’s friendship more.
For some reason, the chapters feel shorter this time—and unlike the first novel, each ends with a thought-provoking spectacle or indelible twist that has this particularly amusing and haunting effect in the following pages. The plot, which centers on the stolen Indian treasure, is so cinematic that the thrill of the chase pulsates from the streets of South London to River Thames and across the prose.
One of the fascinating moments of this is ‘The Episode of the Barrel’ in chapter seven, when John and Sherlock spend an entire graveyard shift looking for the culprit, only to realize that it is a false trail; the two, although having no sleep, end up in fits of laughter instead. It is monumental because it depicts Sherlock as capable of human emotions and frailties, perhaps the first of many, thus rendering the tale as more than an omnipotent casebook; it is also a friendship adventure. There is more of it in this second novel—ample enough to make you root for Holmes and Watson’s friendship more.