I finished a short story called "The Final Solution: A Story Of Detection" by Michael Chabon. I bought it this summer at a church bazaar and it actually belonged to my neighbor who was selling it at said church bazaar. She reads a literal ton, and I took her advice and bought it for a quarter.
The story is of a young boy, around 9, who is the son of a Jewish psychologist during WW2 Germany. Smuggled out of Germany with only his African Gray parrot Bruno, he now lives Vicarage in the countryside of England, some distance away from London. He has become mute and dyslexic, only writing sentences in mirror images, since the forced separations from his parents, whom you can only surmise have been sent to a concentration camp.
His bird becomes matter on interest to both strangers and those who now responsible for his care when it becomes reciting a list of numbers in German. After the bird is discovered missing and a man lay dead, the hunt is on for both and the police turn to an old detective that is most certainly and old and retired Sherlock Holmes, although his name is never mentioned, it most certainly was heavily implied. The most famous detective of his time has now been retired for some 30 years and spends his time tending to his bee hives, all but a recluse in the small village of where he now resides.
Although I am not a much of a fan of detective anything: movie, books, tv, I thought this book was really rather enjoyable and if nothing else, it made me want to read the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle originals. My whole idea of Sherlock Holmes is derived from movies I watched as a child, and this book added some color to my fuzzy memory.
The story is of a young boy, around 9, who is the son of a Jewish psychologist during WW2 Germany. Smuggled out of Germany with only his African Gray parrot Bruno, he now lives Vicarage in the countryside of England, some distance away from London. He has become mute and dyslexic, only writing sentences in mirror images, since the forced separations from his parents, whom you can only surmise have been sent to a concentration camp.
His bird becomes matter on interest to both strangers and those who now responsible for his care when it becomes reciting a list of numbers in German. After the bird is discovered missing and a man lay dead, the hunt is on for both and the police turn to an old detective that is most certainly and old and retired Sherlock Holmes, although his name is never mentioned, it most certainly was heavily implied. The most famous detective of his time has now been retired for some 30 years and spends his time tending to his bee hives, all but a recluse in the small village of where he now resides.
Although I am not a much of a fan of detective anything: movie, books, tv, I thought this book was really rather enjoyable and if nothing else, it made me want to read the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle originals. My whole idea of Sherlock Holmes is derived from movies I watched as a child, and this book added some color to my fuzzy memory.
The ending is a wee bit shocking and I didn't see it coming, although I have to admit I wasn't really trying to solve the mystery as much as just enjoying the ride. It was a short story at 130 some pages and the illustrations inside were lovely. I would recommend it to anyone who needed a short read.
So, it's now official that I've read more books this month (real novels, not art related text), than I read in the first 6 months of 2007. Which is sad and horrific. But so is my keyboard as I look at it. Eww. Gross. I guess I know what I'm doing this weekend. :(
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