The Sorcerer's House
In F.W. Murnau's silent classic film Nosferatu, there is a famous sequence in which the vampire loads a coach with coffins; this is under-cranked (i.e., filmed in fast motion), to suggest supernatural strength and agility, but to modern viewers (or this one, at least) speeded-up motion seems inevitably comic.
I mention this to convey the difficulty I find with Wolfe's latest novel. As in Castleview and parts of Free Live Free, there is such a plethora of weird incidents, conveyed at really breakneck speed by a typically laconic and unemotional Wolfe narrator, that I find the necessary suspension of disbelief very difficult. Not to spoil anything for those who haven't got their hands on this yet, I'll give only one minor example: in the middle of one tense encounter, the narrator receives an emergency telephone call from his butler's little dog.
Wolfe is very much smarter than I am, so he must anticipate something of this reaction. The story seems to demand being read straight; yet there are, for another example, no less than three sets of identical twins at large, plus an evil dwarf bent on rape (who is explicitly identified with a Dickens character I will not name here).
Does he want us to laugh? I add that Wolfe's few explicit attempts at humour, such as his Sherlock Holmes and Nero Wolfe parodies, have always struck me as leaden failures.
The jacket copy instructs readers who finish the novel to immediately read it again. I'll try, but right now I'm off to Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland.
Russell Wodell