In Sherlock's Neighborhood

I just finished reading a book that delighted me. How much, you ask? This much: its about two hundred pages, and I read seventy percent of it the first night I had it home.

There are two reasons why this book -- The Exploits of Sherlock Holmes, by Adrian Conan Doyle and John Dickenson Carr -- delights me.

First, it's well written. The style and plots are virtually indistinguishable from original Holmes. Unlike many other derivative Holmes novels and collections, this one sounds right almost all the time - - to the point that on the rare occasion that it doesn't, I wonder if I'm being too picky. As they said in the Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy, when there was a discrepency between the Guide and reality, it was almost always reality that had got it wrong. Same thing here.

Second, it mentions things like Regents Park as being a short walk from 221-B Baker Street. And Marylebone Road. And the Baker Street - Waterloo omnibus. Each time, I tingle just a bit, thinking: I know that place. I've walked up Baker Street to Regents Park ! Our hotel was on Marylebone Road ! I' ve ridden the Baker Street - Waterloo omnibus! (Okay, maybe not the omnibus. But I rode the Bakerloo line of the tube, surely that counts?) .

There's also the usual surfeit of quick trains from Paddington station, massive old English homes with swords and battle axes too easily to hand, traps clattering through the streets, midnight callers seeking succor from a dour raciocinator sunk into the depths of his chair, and weeping young women convinced of the innocence of their beloved. No towering mastiffs with glowing eyes, though.

I'd be delighted with this book for reason one. But both reasons had this result: I borrowed this copy from the library. And now I'm buying a copy for myself.