The Return of the Pharaoh:
From the Reminiscences of John H. Watson, M.D.
by Nicholas Meyer | A Book Review
TITLE:
"Six feet, if possible, is a good rule of thumb." This is Meyer's lockdown project. That's cool, I had and have my own. The quote is to Watson from Juliet's doctor. Consumption. Tuberculosis. Covid. "I looked over to see Juliet's delicate features, but hers were obscured by the white mask that covered her nose and mouth." Too soon, man. But how soon exactly, until seeing the full of a woman's face is akin to the Victorian Era sexy of catching glimpse of a bare wrist or, daresay bare ankle. Is it getting hot in here? Heat. A word right out of the gate--this tale starts a tick cold but heats up well and quickly enough. I felt like I needed to worm my way in a bit. A tight tunnel leading into a pyramid's gold.
So much in reading through the book shows Meyer to have excellent Canon familiarity. But then again of course he does--and with that, it scans slightly as fanfic in the ways it is showcased. "You have not been in Afghanistan, I perceive," and "Violet something," Holmes mutters amongst other Vs in his steam room attempt at cracking a deadman's code. How Watson is less than accurate in his dating is charming and itself accurate but then a single POSH pulls you right out. Now I am nit-picking my nit-picks. How better to flex? More subtlety. But it also does ring as old pals needling one-another about 'that one time, you remember.' Is this griping me sensing what the cool kids refer to as 'fan service?' Dunno.
First and foremost, I feel Meyer embodies ACD best. Even though Horowitz is the superior pastiche renderer, insofar as Doylean technique. With Meyer, it's more of a kindred ethos tapped vein. I recall an interview he did (on the I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere podcast) wherein he said that Doyle couldn't write a boring sentence. That's here in spades--even when he attempts to shine a light on the boredom of investigative drudgeries. In short, this is a Spillane-level page-turner, but you feel a little smart after. Before moving on, both these men (Meyer, Horowitz) are very important to us because after them we somehow popularly have the fanciful whimsical Gaiman in the wings, a middle-aged man who for whatever reason, now writes like a teenage girl.
I mentioned POSH, another bit of iffy-ness is how Watson at times sticks himself too into his own narration, "waving my hands like an agitated orchestra leader." I did not like that jaggedness. I did like "You will pardon my saying so, Watson, but you rather coddle your readers." A cute and another Canon hat tip to Holmes chiding of Watson's chronicling. I've always, among others, have wondered why Watson shares these scoldings. Maybe Joseph Campbell had it all wrong with his "You are the Hero of your own Story.” But Watson in Egypt kinda is sorta accidentally and almost but not really the hero. More importantly, he is purposefully drawn just as smart as I like; as we seem to be forever overcoming Rathbone's dummy sidekick expectations.
TITLE:
The Return of the Pharaoh:
From the Reminiscences of John H. Watson, M.D.
AUTHOR: Nicholas Meyer
GENRE: Mystery, Pastiche
PUBLISHER: Minotaur Books
RELEASE: 2021
PAGES: 272
AUTHOR: Nicholas Meyer
GENRE: Mystery, Pastiche
PUBLISHER: Minotaur Books
RELEASE: 2021
PAGES: 272
So much in reading through the book shows Meyer to have excellent Canon familiarity. But then again of course he does--and with that, it scans slightly as fanfic in the ways it is showcased. "You have not been in Afghanistan, I perceive," and "Violet something," Holmes mutters amongst other Vs in his steam room attempt at cracking a deadman's code. How Watson is less than accurate in his dating is charming and itself accurate but then a single POSH pulls you right out. Now I am nit-picking my nit-picks. How better to flex? More subtlety. But it also does ring as old pals needling one-another about 'that one time, you remember.' Is this griping me sensing what the cool kids refer to as 'fan service?' Dunno.
I tend to view pastiche as the slew of writers who've penned Batman stories over the many years. Except that instead of DC hiring you for the gig, you hire yourself. Then the estate of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle attempts to sue you for a slice of the public domain pie. Nevertheless, Mayer does what he does and I like what he does, a lot even. One thing is he plucks Holmes out of 221b and takes the deduction show on unfamiliar roads. He gives these nods and then expands. We find Watson's finances to be quite POSH on account of the success of his chroniclings of Holmes. Meanwhile, Holmes continues to charge clients as always... another copy/paste(ish) mention is in the book. "My professional charges are upon a fixed scale. I do not vary them, except when I remit them altogether." - HOUN and also here in Pharaoh.
First and foremost, I feel Meyer embodies ACD best. Even though Horowitz is the superior pastiche renderer, insofar as Doylean technique. With Meyer, it's more of a kindred ethos tapped vein. I recall an interview he did (on the I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere podcast) wherein he said that Doyle couldn't write a boring sentence. That's here in spades--even when he attempts to shine a light on the boredom of investigative drudgeries. In short, this is a Spillane-level page-turner, but you feel a little smart after. Before moving on, both these men (Meyer, Horowitz) are very important to us because after them we somehow popularly have the fanciful whimsical Gaiman in the wings, a middle-aged man who for whatever reason, now writes like a teenage girl.
I mentioned POSH, another bit of iffy-ness is how Watson at times sticks himself too into his own narration, "waving my hands like an agitated orchestra leader." I did not like that jaggedness. I did like "You will pardon my saying so, Watson, but you rather coddle your readers." A cute and another Canon hat tip to Holmes chiding of Watson's chronicling. I've always, among others, have wondered why Watson shares these scoldings. Maybe Joseph Campbell had it all wrong with his "You are the Hero of your own Story.” But Watson in Egypt kinda is sorta accidentally and almost but not really the hero. More importantly, he is purposefully drawn just as smart as I like; as we seem to be forever overcoming Rathbone's dummy sidekick expectations.
By now you've most likely noticed I'm giving precious little away insofar as anything. Good. Get the book. Even though north of twenty bucks is steep, but I'm cheap--and bought it anyway and unregrettably-so. In broad strokes and in the name of proving I actually read the thing, we do get glimpses of Holmes the human. Holmes the mensch. "Rather than cover his own, Holmes clapped his hands on either side of the dutchess's head." We get some fantastic characters. We also get a surprise bit of adventure in the sands, a part of the tale in which I almost sensed some sort of 'American section' about to unfurl--a story within a story. If that's the case, Meyer did it better--altho abbreviated--and ACD didn't do it badly at all.
Egyptology galore, trains, treason, exotic locales, spies & subterfuge, something of an escape room, and murder. What's not to like? What's not to like? Somewhat simpler than expected writing as in lower than ACD grade-level, some awkward stops and starts choppiness, a feeling of it being too modern at times. Perhaps a Covid TRIGGER WARNING is needed? In fairness, however, this is the first book in forever that I waited on the release of, and pounced on purchasing. I even braved a first gen. hippie independent bookstore clerk who sounded quite high as fuck when we chatted on the phone. All that, and it did not disappoint. Alas, there's always Amazon. Fuck Amazon.
A Columbo-ian "Just one more thing," then I'll let you go. I recently read (and will soon review here) Meyer's The West End Horror" in which a piling on of 'c'mon, that historically famous person, too?' occurs. I get glancing blows of that here in The Return of the Pharaoh (PHAR?). Actually perhaps just a singular instance, I forget now. In each book, it pulls me right out, as they say--but as I said, it's kept in check here, in a way that is more than just in comparison. I suppose I like my Sherlockian universe a one of this unto itself.
3.75/5 stars.
I don't know who needs to hear this but pg.209 final graph. "It was a an odd..."
NOTE: I was quite vague here, I know, and made mention of. I'm both acutely aware of the social stigma of spoilers particularly in new materials, as well as I always just want you to read the dang book (this book and whichever-other). Then I'd like you to not tell me about what it is you thought of it.
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