Mark Gatiss

'Well, bless my soul!' whispered Lucky.
For within the coffin was revealed a cloth dummy, its innards stuffed with straw, its eyes and mouth merely crude stitching like that on some common scarecrow.
'Ha!' I cried triumphantly. 'Exactly what I expected to find!'
Which was a bloody lie but there you are.

A humorous spy story set in Edwardian London and Naples. Lucifer Box is a well-known portrait painter and dandy. He is witty and decadent, with a fondness for the seedier fleshpots of Edwardian show more London, and by page five I was convinced that he was a sociopath. He also has a secret life as a spy and assassin for the British secret service, and his adventures in Naples (once he was over his sea-sickness) tracking down the people responsible for the disappearance of three vulcanologists, were exciting and very entertaining. show less

Gatiss brings Lucifer Box back for further adventures in this sequel to The Vesuvius Club, and he makes an interesting choice in aging Box considerably and thus moving his setting from the Edwardian period to the Jazz Age. While the humor is still here, and Gatiss's delight in creating a pastiche of spy stories what have gone before is still evident, the tone has changed somewhat; Box is middle-aged now, and it shows. He's still irreverent and witty and loves a good pun, and his abilities as show more a secret agent (despite his concerns about same) are still sharp, but he's been touched by some sadness since we've last seen him; he's a little life-worn, and that confirms suspicions from The Vesuvius Club that were he to let his mask fall for more than a moment, we'd see someone of a good deal more substance than he'd care to let on.

I enjoyed the plot of The Devil in Amber more than that of the first book. The mystery of The Vesuvius Club has more than a touch of the silly to it and while that was fun, I was never quite invested in it as a plot where our hero is in danger (nor do I think one is really meant to be). The stakes are higher in The Devil in Amber, perhaps because things are more personal for Box this time around. And, it's post-WWI, and, well, the world has changed. The Devil in Amber is only obliquely about WWI, but it does thread through the novel, and the moments when the ways the war have touched Box's life poke through the story are those which elevate the novel above just a competently-done spy novel. Recommended. show less

If Ian Fleming and Arthur Conan Doyle somehow had a baby, and then sent it off to be raised by Oscar Wilde and Edgar Allan Poe, it might have grown up to be Lucifer Box, the hero of Mark Gatiss's The Vesuvius Club. Box is an Edwardian-era secret agent, who, when he's not off saving the Realm, is a painter and a much- sought-after guest at all the best parties. Box narrates his own story, and the result is irreverent, witty, knowing, and sometimes laugh-out-loud funny. Many reviews of the show more novel toss around the word "pastiche," and that's fair--it's impossible not to think of James Bond, of Sherlock Holmes, even of Bertie Wooster and maybe Edward Gorey while reading--but Gatiss is doing something of his own, too. Box is unapologetically bisexual and from there stems some of what is most interesting about the book; in their review of The Vesuvius Club, The Times Literary Supplement says that Box is "revealed to be bisexual" at the midpoint of the story. I'd say rather that, if you've been paying attention, he is gleefully affirmed to be bisexual at the midpoint of the story. Only a few of the other characters in the book know this about Box (it is early twentieth century England, after all), but between Box-as-narrator and the reader, his bisexuality is treated as a perhaps slightly-shocking-fact at first, but never as something shameful, dirty, or prurient (or at least not any more prurient than anything else--the whole book is delightfully nudge-nudge-wink-wink). It is then taken as given, and Box's sexual interest in valet Charlie is treated as no more remarkable than his sexual interest in drawing-student Bella. And that, itself, I think, is remarkable, even (especially?) today. The novel is not about Box's bisexuality, and in not being about that, somehow it becomes about just that. And I love it for it.

I suppose I should say something about the plot--the novel is a mystery story, and the plot does trip along. Lots of fairly ridiculous incidents, competently written action, and it all hangs together well enough in the end. But really it's about the humor, the wit, and the pastiche. And a certain amount of (somewhat surprising) heart. It's clear that Gatiss had a brilliant time writing this, and if you are in any way inclined toward liking The Vesuvius Club that delight will pass over into your reading experience. That being said, this book is probably not for everyone. There's an element of the send-up here, of going over-the-top, of taking something to such heights of badness that it becomes irresistibly good, and if that's not your thing, this may read flat. But. If you like that sort of thing, this is exactly the sort of thing you will like. show less

The basics of solving cases should be the beauty of these things. Cases here go out the window and just become kinda jumbled soap opera. Perhaps it was my expectations, but I think the hype influenced the creators to "Americanize" the production. Subtle humor was replaced with overt gags. The social awkwardness that seemed to be beyond Holmes capacity to maneuver seemed something he could turn on and off at will. The stories lacked the depth and intricacies a fan would expect. Little show more mystery, few plot twists, no edges. Still entertaining, but nowhere near as impressive as the original adventures. Cumberbatch was OK, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade ditto. Watson was just superfluously redundant. The producers created drawn out complicated storylines that made me eventually lose interest. Once the cases themselves got away I hardly paid full attention. show less