I’m rereading the Sherlock Holmes canon more than sixty years after devouring it for the first time. My enjoyment is as great as the first time, but a young adolescent reads differently than a graybeard. Now, I’m interested not only in a clever plot, a satisfying reveal, and the protagonist’s quirks but also in how great writing is achieved.

Doyle, bowing to popular demand, wrote this novel after killing off Holmes nearly a decade earlier. Improbably, acquiescence resulted in a masterpiece. The question of how this was achieved interests me.

Perhaps Doyle’s attempt to write books that succeeded without Holmes spurred him to work on his craft. The well-constructed opening lines indicate that Doyle brings his best literary skills to the project. The use of a variety of techniques—straight narrative, a back story (complete with an ancient document), copies of letters from Watson to Holmes, diary entries, and a summation from Holmes at the end—keeps the plot moving along without revealing too much at once. Finally, there is the atmospheric evocation of the Devonshire moors, culminating in a thick fog that threatens to thwart our heroes at the expected moment of triumph.

Along with these steps forward in style, there are elements familiar from other Holmes stories — the fortune made abroad, the readiness to let an escaped convict emigrate, and the failure to apprehend the culprit, only to have justice served by the elements rather than a court of law. While these motifs are interesting, other recurrent features have not aged well. For instance, the paternalistic, chivalrous view of women (invariably beautiful, unless they are servants). In addition, the racism many readers today find objectionable is there, but off-handedly, in the unspoken assumption of Anglo-Saxon superiority. More prominent is the casual class prejudice, aligned with the belief that character can be read in physiognomy; in fact, one character is obsessed with phrenology.

One element contributing to this book’s page-turning success is the plot’s balance between the natural and the supernatural.

Finally, an anomaly: this tale relies less than the earlier Holmes stories on the detective’s eccentricities. In fact, Holmes is off-stage for much of the plot. Is that part of why this works so well? Hmm, a three-pipe problem, indeed. ( )

A very, very enjoyable read: definitely the pinnacle (thus far) of the Holmes canon.

Every element fits into its proper place: the isolated location is well described, with many fascinating features such as the Neolithic huts, fatal bogs and rows of yews. Each character is well-drawn, and each has their own mystery which interlocks perfectly with the overarching puzzle. By utilising different aspects of Watson's narrative voice - his diary, his letters, his reminiscences - Conan Doyle is able to shake up his writing formula somewhat, and present us with a mystery in which both Watson and Holmes are used to their respective strengths.

Beyond this, the mystery is multi-faceted and - particularly noteworthy - the novel is about every aspect of the crime, not just the "whodunnit" or how. As a result, even though the revelations are really no more than typical Conan Doyle fare, they are in no way a letdown, because it is only part of a larger canvas.

Seasoned crime readers like myself will probably pick up on the big clue planted very early in the book but, even then, it by no means allows you to solve the crime. The only aspect which might be seen by some as negative is that the book is always happy to pause and consider any minute clue (half a chapter is spent on exactly which newspaper a ransom-style note was cut from). To me, though, this is quintessential Holmes. The traces of romantic characterisation and storytelling linger, but are kept in check by the power of the work overall. As a result, I'm soldiering on with renewed vigour to the sixth of the nine Holmes books. ( )

This is the first time I have read Sherlock Holmes. Very enjoyable! I can see Doyle's influence on other detective writers; he is the model for Inspector Gamache, William Monk, and Commissario Brunetti. ( )

"Richard Cabell vivió durante el 1600 y fue el escudero local en Buckfastleigh. Tenía una pasión por la caza y era lo que en aquellos días se describía como un 'hombre monstruosamente malo'. Ganó esta reputación por, entre otras cosas, su inmoralidad y por haber vendido su alma al diablo. También se rumoreaba que había asesinado a su esposa. El 5 de julio de 1677 falleció y lo enterraron en su sepulcro, pero eso fue sólo el comienzo de la historia". (Descripción editorial).

I had read a bunch of the short stories years ago, but not this novel, so... this is good. It is very, very good. But of course it is...it's Sherlock Holmes. :) ( )