The Vesuvius Club

"I made my way softly down the steps to the door. It bore no knocker, nor number of any kind. I had raised my hand when it groaned open, seemingly of its own accord. Shudder not, reader, this is not a spook story! Whatever agency lay behind that door was most assuredly human.

Actually I must immediately qualify that remark, as what lay behind the door appeared to be a monkey."


Lucifer Box, "the feted artist, the dashing dandy ... but by night -- philanderer, sodomite, and assassin!" is quite simply one of the most charming detectives I've come across. His portrayal is a little uneven, as at times he seems a spy firmly in the mold of a James Bond or Sherlock Holmes, while at other times, he seems a mite more like Inspector Clouseau or show more Inspector Gadget. I think that mishmash quality, however, is what I most enjoyed about this book, the bastard child of Wodehouse, Fleming, and Wilde, amongst others. It's a quick and fun little read (also available as a graphic novel, apparently).

Although this is a very funny book, the humor is pleasantly understated, as when Mr. Box reveals that he lives at 9 Downing Street ("Somebody has to live there."). The action scenes are as one might expect, with fistfights and chases aplenty, and the grand finale takes place in the evil mastermind's secret lair, located ... well ... why ruin the surprise? And as with any good spy novel, there are a couple sex scenes, handled in a rather unique fashion by the author. 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 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 show more 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

'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 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 show more the disappearance of three vulcanologists, were exciting and very entertaining. show less

A breezy little romp that is part Sherlock Holmes, part James Bond and part Harry Flashman, with added doses of debauchery and gentlemanly Edwardian espionage. Sadly, however, The Vesuvius Club is nowhere near as potent a concoction as such a recipe might suggest. It has the occasional good flourish, but its labyrinthine plot fails to spark and it is easy to lose track (and interest), particularly as the narrative never dwells and the reader is thrust along at an unnatural speed rather than having the opportunity to let it all settle in their mind.

Seemingly to try and give it a little pep, author Mark Gatiss gives every character an unusual name. Aside from our protagonist with the unlikely name of Lucifer Box, we also have characters show more like Jocelyn Poop, Christopher Miracle, Major Strangeways Pugg, Professor Frederick Sash, Bella Pok, Cretaceous Unmann (what?), Mrs Midsomer Knight, Inspector Flush of Scotland Yard, Kitty Backlash (actually, I quite like that one), Abigail Frenzy and Charles Jackpot. The character of Joshua Reynolds stands out for having a normal name, but even then Gatiss makes him a dwarf. It is fine to have a mystery tale with one or two odd names ('Sherlock Holmes', anyone?), but in trying to provide an air of irreverence to the story, Gatiss gets carried away and only succeeds in giving it an air of sketchiness.

I don't mean to be harsh on the novel – I enjoyed reading it. It was atmospheric and creative and I look forward to the second book, The Devil in Amber, in the hope that Gatiss' sophomore novel will show improvement. But, as it stands in the first book, the problem seems to be that the author doesn't seem to know what he wants the novel to be. Is it a Sherlockian mystery or a Flashman-esque romp? And, to that end, why the anachronistic steampunk and the Frankenstein-esque monsters? At a light 240 pages, the novel can't be everything, but in trying to be so it ends up as, well, not as nothing – that would be harsh on an enjoyable-enough story – but as a rather diluted brew. show less

The author himself states that The Vesuvius Club is nothing more than a bit of fluff, and in many ways he's right. The characterisation could never be referred to as three-dimensional, the events are cartoonish, and the pacing is off-kilter. That said, I still enjoyed this immensely. It's as if you were to take Oscar Wilde, Ian Fleming, the better elements of the Austin Power movies, and The League of Gentlemen, combine them all together in an Edwardian London setting, with a plot so absurd you could almost (almost) believe it possible, and then parody the hell out of all of it. It's a risky undertaking, but I think Gatiss just about pulls it off.

The character names are weird and wonderful (Lucifer Box, Miss Bella Pok, Lady Constance show more Tutt-Hattenschaft); the main character is hilariously self-centred, obnoxious, arrogant and dandyish; some of the one-liners are screamingly funny, and many of them provoke a smile. Possibly you have to have read widely in a lot of the genres that Gatiss takes off in order to appreciate this fully; but really, how often does one get to read of the dashing secret agent rescuing his constantly-in-peril boyfriend in any genre? Not enough, I think; and that, together with Gatiss' knack for introducing sudden streaks of creative genius into his work help to lift the book.

It might, I think, have made a better graphic novel or movie than a novel proper (though I'm sure, given time, that it will). It certainly succeeded in entertaining me for the duration of my train trip, however, and I would definitely read more of Gatiss' stuff (then again, given that he's written one of my favourite episodes of Doctor Who, and that he's partially responsible for The League of Gentlemen, it's not like I would avoid his stuff in any case) I don't think I would pay full price for The Vesuvius Club; but if, like me, you come across it in a second-hand bookshop, and you're looking for a way to spend an idle hour or two, I really would recommend it. show less

Lucifer Box is the narrator and hero of this tale. He is London's foremost portraitist, and a charming wit and dandy, with an eye for pretty ladies (and men). He is also a secret agent in the employ of His Majesty's Government, in Edwardian England (who lives at number 9 Downing Street, no less - as he says, "Well someone has to live there"). He is tasked with investigating the mysterious deaths of two eminent professors, and the murder of one of his fellow secret agent in Naples. As Lucifer heads to Naples himself he finds himself drawn further and further into the mystery. He tells the story in his own inimitable style, peppered with saucy wit and smart witticisms.

This is a hugely enjoyable satirical romp - Lucifer is perhaps the show more James Bond of his time, and finds himself entangled in many outlandish and incredible situations, which require all of his guile and cunning to extricate himself from.

Both Edwardian London and Naples are brought vividly to life, and Box's descriptions of Pompeii made me want to visit that famous site.

Lucifer himself is a terrific hero - he is brazenly immoral, doubtlessly charming and the sort of rakish cad who I couldn't help liking, despite myself. The writing made me laugh out loud on several occasions, and it was impossible not to root for him.

The supporting cast of charcters have wonderful names such as Christopher Miracle, Kitty Blacklash and Charlie Jackpot, which add to the fun and served to remind me of the satirical nature of the plot when things sometimes took on a slightly more serious nature. Yes, it requires the reader to suspend belief, and yes it is an outrageous story - but that's fine, because that is exactly what it is supposed to be. The subtitle of the story is 'A Bit of Fluff' - and that sums the book up perfectly. it's not to be taken seriously, it's meant to be funny, sharp and pure entertainment. And that's precisely what it is.

I very much look forward to reading the next book in the series. show less

Naughty, bawdy, silly, witty, over-the-top.

Just a few ways to describe Mark Gatiss’s rollicking caper - which I enjoyed enormously.

Sure, it can be described as Sherlock Holmes meets James Bond (if they’d been brave enough to cast the estimable, dishy Rupert Everett in the role), but it seems to share more DNA with a lesser known British export, The Assassination Bureau, a film starring Oliver Reed and Diana Rigg. Like The Vesuvius Club it’s an anachronistic mash-up of Edwardian starch, wild espionage spoof and hippie era sex comedy. In a word - delightful.

What I enjoyed most about the whole affair was that, at the heart of it, narrator and ostensible "hero" Lucifer Box, is rather a pompous ass. I suspect author Mark Gatiss is show more taking sly aim at the English class system, using the preening, egotistical Box as the perfect model of (to use the parlance of Monty Python) the upper-class twit. Time and again, we see that Box’s mission would fail utterly without the help of his "domestics," the servants and underlings who aide him nearly every step of the way - whether it be with investigating, research, alluding capture or fisticuffs. Unlike with Holmes, there isn’t a lot of deduction going on here, as every revelation seems to come to Box by chance or after the fact entirely. Despite all that, he continues to trumpet his virtues throughout. The only area in which he doesn't appear to overestimate his abilities, is in his powers of attraction, as evidenced by his multitude of conquests - both male and female. A fact that adds a delicous level of subversiveness to the proceedings.

This is a terrific, light romp - outlandish, funny, sexy - even a bit suspenseful and surprising. Perfect for a hot, lazy day at the beach. show less