In “The Simple Art of Murder”, Raymond Chandler summed up Sherlock Holmes as mainly being a few unforgettable lines of dialogue. Implicit in that distillation is the notion that there are a great many things that Sherlock Holmes is not. He is not, for example, sentimental, nor is he overly reliant on coincidence to set him on the path to effortless ratiocination, nor is he “modern” in his sensibilities and approaches. Difficulty in getting a handle on these, and a good handful of defining traits like them, has been the downfall of many a would-be Holmes author over the years.
Which brings us to The Giant Rat of Sumatra, which, in the hands of Edgar-winning author Richard L. Boyer, turns out to be something of a disappointment. The unusually sized rodent in question is something of a legendary figure in Baker Street lore, casually mentioned by Watson as the defining feature of a case and then never referred to again. It’s a marvelous bit of worldbuilding, hinting at the things Holmes had done outside the scope of the published stories without requiring dollops of painstaking exposition. It’s also been irresistible fodder for speculation as to what exactly the Case of the Giant Rat of Sumatra was, what the rat might have been and so forth, to the point where even the early Monster Manual got into the act. (Seriously. Look up Rat, Giant and you’ll see it was noted as being “Sumatran”).
Boyer’s whack at the mystery, unfortunately, is not ultimately satisfying. The book, originally released in 1976 and revised for Titan’s “Further Adventures Of…” series in 2011, feels very much like something from the mid-70s, and as such, less like a Sherlock Holmes story than one would hope.
The narrative concerns itself with two mysteries. One is the abduction in India of the daughter of the noble Allistairs, the other the murder of a sailor from the ship Matilda Briggs, whose voyage from the Indies had apparently been something of a horror. After various murders and bits of deduction, it becomes clear that a) the Giant Rat or a reasonable facsimile is real and murderous, b) the two cases are related, and c) the conclusion to the drama will take place at a secluded estate hard on the Welsh border. What happens there is where the story departs forcibly and finally from the authentic style, as both Dr. Watson (who makes a habit of fainting throughout the book) and the reader are forced to endure physical violence, extensive villainous monologuing, and an entirely out-of-character afterword from Holmes himself. The identity of the giant rat, meanwhile, is liable to provoke raised eyebrows, if not outright disbelief.
That’s not to say there aren’t fun bits within the novel, but it really seems planted firmly within the ’70s detective idiom. There’s the insane genius villain. There’s the convoluted way the hero figures things out (so unlike the sharp elegance of Doyle’s originals). There’s the bloody fistfight at the climax, and the uncharacteristic sentimentality towards a little kid caught in the crossfire early on. So many of the little things are just a bit off that it all adds up to a big disconnect, and that’s before you get to some of the more precarious bits of plot balancing (many of which Boyer is kind enough to discuss in his notes).
For decades, the promise of the tale of The Giant Rat of Sumatra has dangled just out of reach. Sadly, even after Boyer’s attempt, the promise is still out there, as yet unrealized.
(Titan Books, 2011)
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