Son of Holmes
by John Lescroart (Dutton Books, 1986); audiobook read by Tim Baltz (Brilliance Audio, 2011)
The titular Son of Holmes lurks mostly in the background, while the French protagonist is narrated by an American too well versed in ‘Allo ‘Allo cod accents. Nonetheless, the mystery is quietly engaging and the denouement at least smacks of the Sherlockian.
Sapphire & Steel, Assignment 1
by P. J. Hammond (ITV, 1979)
A darkly lit, suitably disconcerting introduction to time agents Sapphire (Joanna Lumley) and Steel (David McCallum), spoiled somewhat by the performances of two child actors in support and a haunted house plot that furthers its otherworldly atmosphere at the expense of coherence.
The Trials of Rumpole
by John Mortimer (Penguin, 1981); audiobook read by Bill Wallis (Bolinda, 2014)
Rumpole continues in his oratorically pugilistic, poetic way to champion the virtues of impartial legal defence, winning when his clients are guilty and losing when they are innocent. The book has dated rather better than the show on which it was based.
Mansfield Park
by Jane Austen; dramatised by Lin Coghlan (BBC Radio 4, 2003)
This full-cast dramatisation offers the narrative equivalent of time-lapse photography: too sketchy for the purists but sufficient to convey some of Austen’s epic to-ing and fro-ing. Its commercial release retro-boasts the involvement of Felicity Jones, Benedict Cumberbatch and bit player David Tennant.
Professor Branestawm’s Perilous Pudding
by Norman Hunter (The Bodley Head, 1979)
More misadventures from Professor Branestawm, narrated in a throwaway, madcap style for middle grade readers but with breezily sardonic social commentary and plenty of wordplay (especially oxymorons) for the adults. The characters entertain but Branestawm’s mid-speech ‘um-ing’ and ‘ah-ing’ becomes instantly tiresome.
The Enormous Crocodile
by Roald Dahl (Jonathan Cape, 1978); audiobook read by Stephen Fry (Puffin, 2013)
A classic safe scare for young middle grade readers, the audiobook stripped of Quentin Blake’s illustrations but enhanced in compensation by Stephen Fry’s delivery (albeit that the background soundscape becomes tiresome, especially when signifying the crocodile’s trademark ‘secret plans and clever tricks’).
Red Dwarf: Last Human
by Doug Naylor (Viking, 1995)
A competent SF novel that broadens the Red Dwarf canvas but relies a little too much on prior knowledge of the show (while at the same time rehashing chunks of televised stories; these are the book’s weakest parts). Funny, but somewhat scattershot.
The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes
by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (George Newnes, 1893); audiobook ready by Stephen Fry (ABC, 2017)
Despite coming across as increasingly distant from modern times, these tales of Sherlock Holmes retain their appeal. Simply put, Holmes and Watson are great characters, and the mysteries themselves have a charm that rests enduringly in Conan Doyle’s (and Stephen Fry’s) telling.
Agaton Sax and Lispington’s Grandfather Clock
by Nils-Olof Franzén; ill. Quentin Blake (Andre Deutsch, 1978)
The last of Franzén’s Agaton Sax books sees the great detective once again triumphant in the face of nefarious criminal undertakings, the harried mishaps of his good friend Inspector Lispington, and even the unfortunate magnetism of Andreas Kark. A fittingly ebullient finale.
The Fraxilly Fracas
by Douglas Hill (Victor Gollancz, 1989)
By Hill’s standards, a great disappointment. Galactic courier Del Curb comes from the oeuvre of would-be comedic, self-inflated, mishap-prone, comeuppance-provoking space opera antiheroes. The story, however, fairly plods along and the humour is just a disreputable turkey flapping about, never taking flight.