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A review by sidharthvardhan
The Valley of Fear by Arthur Conan Doyle
4.0
It is written in style of ‘A Study in Scarlet’ – in two parts with first focused on Holmes solving case and second on history of parties involved in crime. The first part is of course more interesting. There is a problem around involvement of Moriarty – since Watson now knows about him but according to ‘The Final Solution’ he shouldn’t have heard about him till much later. A very elementary mistake!
Now I wouldn’t have written this review, if it wasn’t to raise doubt – somebody please tell me, did Doyle knew that people are going to question the platonicity(?) of relationship between the doctor and the detective? I mean just look at this conversation:
It was late that night when Holmes returned from his solitary excursion. We slept in a double-bedded room, which was the best that the little country inn could do for us. I was already asleep
when I was partly awakened by his entrance.
"Well, Holmes," I murmured, "have you found anything out?"
He stood beside me in silence, his candle in his hand. Then the tall, lean figure inclined towards me. "I say, Watson," he whispered, "would you be afraid to sleep in the same room with a lunatic, a man with softening of the brain, an idiot whose mind has lost its grip?"
"Not in the least," I answered in astonishment.
"Ah, that's lucky," he said, and not another word would he utter that night.
Now I wouldn’t have written this review, if it wasn’t to raise doubt – somebody please tell me, did Doyle knew that people are going to question the platonicity(?) of relationship between the doctor and the detective? I mean just look at this conversation:
It was late that night when Holmes returned from his solitary excursion. We slept in a double-bedded room, which was the best that the little country inn could do for us. I was already asleep
when I was partly awakened by his entrance.
"Well, Holmes," I murmured, "have you found anything out?"
He stood beside me in silence, his candle in his hand. Then the tall, lean figure inclined towards me. "I say, Watson," he whispered, "would you be afraid to sleep in the same room with a lunatic, a man with softening of the brain, an idiot whose mind has lost its grip?"
"Not in the least," I answered in astonishment.
"Ah, that's lucky," he said, and not another word would he utter that night.