From Publishers Weekly
Initially published in the
Paris Review in 2003, Chabon's first significant adult fiction since his Pulitzer-winning
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay (2000) continues his sophisticated, if here somewhat skewed, appropriation of pop artifacts—in this case one of the greatest pop artifacts of all, Sherlock Holmes. As fans of the great detective know, after retirement Holmes moved from London to Sussex, where he spent his days keeping bees. Chabon's story takes place during WWII, when Holmes is 89 and intent on bee-keeping only—until a mysterious boy wanders into town. The boy is remarkable for two reasons: he's clearly intelligent but is mute, and he keeps a parrot that mouths, among other utterances, numbers in German. When the parrot is stolen, local cops turn to Holmes, and he's intrigued enough to dust off his magnifying glass and go to work. The writing here is taut and polished, and Chabon's characters and depictions of English country life are spot on. It's notable, though, that Chabon refers to Holmes never by name but persistently as "the old man"—notable because it's difficult to discern a reason other than self-conscious artistry not to name Holmes; the scenes in the novel that grip the strongest are those that feature Holmes, and more credit is due to Conan Doyle than to Chabon for that. Neither a proper mystery nor particularly fine literature, this haunting novella, for all its strengths, lies uneasily between the two and will fully please few fans of each.
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Following
Summerland (2002), his foray into fantasy,
Chabon continues to tinker with genre fiction, this time with a peculiar homage to the classical detective story. It's summer 1944: the Allies are slogging their way across France, and deep in the British countryside, a man is killed, apparently while in the act of stealing a German boy's parrot. The boy, a seemingly mute Jewish refugee living with a melancholy African minister and his English wife, captures the interest of a long-retired detective, once famous for his remarkable deductive abilities. Thus begins a slow-moving but atmospheric evocation of the mood and feel of Christie and Sayers. Once roused from his reclusive retirement, our nameless, pipe-smoking, beekeeping hero proves every bit as eccentric and outlandishly brilliant as the classical-era detectives he evokes: Holmes, Poirot, Wimsey. Although Chabon patches together a serviceable plot--the murder victim may have been some sort of spy, and the number-spouting parrot may be hoarding a secret--he is less interested in constructing a genuine puzzle than in assembling a cast of eccentrics and letting them frolic in the countryside. It's all accomplished with plenty of smart, stylistic turns, but finally the short novel feels like a lesser Coen brothers movie: all the trappings without much filling. That's the trouble with genre homages: too often they turn out be Potemkin villages.
Bill OttCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
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