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The Final Solution
Other cover for ISBN 9780007196036.
In retirement in the English countryside, an 89-year-old man, vaguely remembered by villagers as a once famous detective, is more concerned with his bees than with the outside world.
When a young boy called Linus Steinman enters the old man's life, he is surprised and oddly touched. The boy, an escapee from Nazi Germany, is mute and accompanied only by his beloved grey parrot. But what is the meaning of the mysterious string of numbers that the parrot spews out? When someone is killed and the parrot disappears the old man is determined to solve the mystery.
A wonderful homage and a gem of a book, The Final Solution is a brilliant novel from a remarkable writer.
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127 pages, Paperback
First published November 9, 2004
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About the author
Michael Chabon
140 books8,827 followersMichael Chabon is an American novelist, screenwriter, columnist, and short story writer. Born in Washington, D.C., he spent a year studying at Carnegie Mellon University before transferring to the University of Pittsburgh, graduating in 1984. He subsequently received a Master of Fine Arts in creative writing from the University of California, Irvine.
Chabon's first novel, The Mysteries of Pittsburgh (1988), was published when he was 24. He followed it with Wonder Boys (1995) and two short-story collections. In 2000, he published The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, a novel that John Leonard would later call Chabon's magnum opus. It received the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 2001.
His novel The Yiddish Policemen's Union, an alternate history mystery novel, was published in 2007 and won the Hugo, Sidewise, Nebula and Ignotus awards; his serialized novel Gentlemen of the Road appeared in book form in the fall of the same year. In 2012, Chabon published Telegraph Avenue, billed as "a twenty-first century Middlemarch", concerning the tangled lives of two families in the San Francisco Bay Area in 2004. He followed Telegraph Avenue in November 2016 with his latest novel, Moonglow, a fictionalized memoir of his maternal grandfather, based on his deathbed confessions under the influence of powerful painkillers in Chabon's mother's California home in 1989.
Chabon's work is characterized by complex language, and the frequent use of metaphor along with recurring themes such as nostalgia, divorce, abandonment, fatherhood, and most notably issues of Jewish identity. He often includes gay, bisexual, and Jewish characters in his work. Since the late 1990s, he has written in increasingly diverse styles for varied outlets; he is a notable defender of the merits of genre fiction and plot-driven fiction, and, along with novels, has published screenplays, children's books, comics, and newspaper serials.
Chabon's first novel, The Mysteries of Pittsburgh (1988), was published when he was 24. He followed it with Wonder Boys (1995) and two short-story collections. In 2000, he published The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, a novel that John Leonard would later call Chabon's magnum opus. It received the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 2001.
His novel The Yiddish Policemen's Union, an alternate history mystery novel, was published in 2007 and won the Hugo, Sidewise, Nebula and Ignotus awards; his serialized novel Gentlemen of the Road appeared in book form in the fall of the same year. In 2012, Chabon published Telegraph Avenue, billed as "a twenty-first century Middlemarch", concerning the tangled lives of two families in the San Francisco Bay Area in 2004. He followed Telegraph Avenue in November 2016 with his latest novel, Moonglow, a fictionalized memoir of his maternal grandfather, based on his deathbed confessions under the influence of powerful painkillers in Chabon's mother's California home in 1989.
Chabon's work is characterized by complex language, and the frequent use of metaphor along with recurring themes such as nostalgia, divorce, abandonment, fatherhood, and most notably issues of Jewish identity. He often includes gay, bisexual, and Jewish characters in his work. Since the late 1990s, he has written in increasingly diverse styles for varied outlets; he is a notable defender of the merits of genre fiction and plot-driven fiction, and, along with novels, has published screenplays, children's books, comics, and newspaper serials.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,864 reviews
March 6, 2021
(C+) 65% | Almost Satisfactory
Notes: A Sherlock Holmes story without the mystery. Suffers from the typical Chabon fluff, but without a redeemable story.
Notes: A Sherlock Holmes story without the mystery. Suffers from the typical Chabon fluff, but without a redeemable story.
July 22, 2025
(C+) 65% | Almost Satisfactory
Notes: This Sherlock tale's a total fail: off brand, the writing sucks, a drag, unclear, detection here's all randomness and luck.
*Check out progress updates for detailed commentary:
Notes: This Sherlock tale's a total fail: off brand, the writing sucks, a drag, unclear, detection here's all randomness and luck.
*Check out progress updates for detailed commentary:
July 21, 2018
After ploughing through read-ups on Michael Chabon's back catalogue with a fine-tooth comb, 'The Final Solution' was the one that appealed to me the most. This is a subtle, humane novella written to a high shine. At the same time, it is a tale of adventure, detective work and heroics, steeped in a love of genre fiction.
In the Sussex countryside a retired detective, 89 years old, keeps bees. He is never named as Sherlock Holmes: we are left to note his magnifying glass, around its bezel an affectionate inscription from the sole great friend of his life, and his memories of besting ingenious criminals in late 19th-century London. Now, in 1944, Holmes meets a nine-year-old Jewish boy called Linus Steinman, a refugee from Nazi Germany who has lost his family and never speaks. His constant companion is an African grey parrot that keeps reeling off sequences of German numbers, piquing the interest of the locals. Could they be Nazi codes, or Swiss bank account numbers? When the parrot vanishes and a man is killed, Holmes agrees to come out of retirement, not to solve the unremarkable murder but to reunite the melancholy Linus with his squawking friend.
The plot is slight by the standards of detective fiction, but elegant, and a bit far-reaching despite Chabon's brevity. This octogenarian version of the great detective is enjoyably spiky, still confounding policemen and villains, but he is also frail, decrepit and exiled from his rightful century. He seems just as lost as the young boy Steinman, and suffers frightening episodes of geriatric confusion in which it seems that time had bleached away the ornate pattern of his intellect, leaving a blank white scrapbook. The novella gives us the delights of suspense and resolution, puzzle and solution, but the vast crime that hovers behind the story is a mystery too great for Holmes to make sense of, let alone the reader. Then again, maybe it's better that way.
Chabon builds a promising atmosphere, his prose and characters neatly reflecting the style, whilst always feeling natural and fluent. His Holmes is edged by physical weakness into the role of a philosopher type, and there are some fine descriptive passages here and there, but neither they, nor the weight of the WW2-time context (which strongly attracted me to this book), ever quite banishes the air of whimsyness that hangs over the whole novella. And the intrigue throughout kind of evaporates slowly, with a narrative shift by the end to the inner consciousness of the parrot.
Having never read Chabon before, this may not have been the right book to start off with, and I am as yet undecided just what to make of him. In small glimpses, I can see why he is a viewed as a talented writer in the eyes of some, but it's also clear to see why he would easily divide opinion.
In the Sussex countryside a retired detective, 89 years old, keeps bees. He is never named as Sherlock Holmes: we are left to note his magnifying glass, around its bezel an affectionate inscription from the sole great friend of his life, and his memories of besting ingenious criminals in late 19th-century London. Now, in 1944, Holmes meets a nine-year-old Jewish boy called Linus Steinman, a refugee from Nazi Germany who has lost his family and never speaks. His constant companion is an African grey parrot that keeps reeling off sequences of German numbers, piquing the interest of the locals. Could they be Nazi codes, or Swiss bank account numbers? When the parrot vanishes and a man is killed, Holmes agrees to come out of retirement, not to solve the unremarkable murder but to reunite the melancholy Linus with his squawking friend.
The plot is slight by the standards of detective fiction, but elegant, and a bit far-reaching despite Chabon's brevity. This octogenarian version of the great detective is enjoyably spiky, still confounding policemen and villains, but he is also frail, decrepit and exiled from his rightful century. He seems just as lost as the young boy Steinman, and suffers frightening episodes of geriatric confusion in which it seems that time had bleached away the ornate pattern of his intellect, leaving a blank white scrapbook. The novella gives us the delights of suspense and resolution, puzzle and solution, but the vast crime that hovers behind the story is a mystery too great for Holmes to make sense of, let alone the reader. Then again, maybe it's better that way.
Chabon builds a promising atmosphere, his prose and characters neatly reflecting the style, whilst always feeling natural and fluent. His Holmes is edged by physical weakness into the role of a philosopher type, and there are some fine descriptive passages here and there, but neither they, nor the weight of the WW2-time context (which strongly attracted me to this book), ever quite banishes the air of whimsyness that hangs over the whole novella. And the intrigue throughout kind of evaporates slowly, with a narrative shift by the end to the inner consciousness of the parrot.
Having never read Chabon before, this may not have been the right book to start off with, and I am as yet undecided just what to make of him. In small glimpses, I can see why he is a viewed as a talented writer in the eyes of some, but it's also clear to see why he would easily divide opinion.
May 7, 2016
In which Michael Chabon resurrects Sherlock Holmes.
The Final Solution is set in England in 1944. It begins with an eighty-year old bee keeper who sees a young boy with a parrot on his shoulder walking alongside train tracks. How much menacing power the word train evokes in a 1940s setting is brilliantly conjured up in this image. We quickly discover this boy is a Jewish refugee and refuses to speak. His parrot however does speak. It recites sequences of German numbers. Some think these are Nazi codes, others Swiss bank account numbers. When we learn the boy was in a death camp the numbers take on an altogether more sinister meaning. Soon the parrot vanishes and a man is killed. The beekeeper, who we now realise is Holmes but is always referred to as the old man, agrees to come out of retirement, not to solve the murder, but to reunite the Jewish boy with his only remaining companion.
The finest achievement of Kavalier & Clay is perhaps the underlying weakness of this novella – the characters, so compellingly integrated and wholeheartedly imagined in K&C, are shadowy entities here. In a novella of 130 pages it’s probably over-ambitious to head hop but this is what Chabon does. The story unfurls from within the consciousness of various characters, including, in the novella’s supreme act of whimsy, the parrot’s and so we never quite feel emotionally engaged in what’s going on. What could be a moving tale of the sundering of companionship becomes more of a whimsical ventriloquist act. It predates David Mitchell’s mischief in mixing and matching genres but seems a bit rough and raw in the light of Mitchell’s adrenaline-charged artistry.
Probably no other writer has addressed the Holocaust in such an original manner as Chabon. Who else would come up with comic book heroes and a talking parrot as protagonists to offset the evil of Nazi Germany? It’s easy to imagine Chabon being utterly immersed while writing Kavalier & Clay and just as easy to imagine him writing this in his spare time, as a kind of playful game. It’s clever but more like an exercise in cleverness than a heartfelt elegy to detective fiction or Holocaust victims.
The Final Solution is set in England in 1944. It begins with an eighty-year old bee keeper who sees a young boy with a parrot on his shoulder walking alongside train tracks. How much menacing power the word train evokes in a 1940s setting is brilliantly conjured up in this image. We quickly discover this boy is a Jewish refugee and refuses to speak. His parrot however does speak. It recites sequences of German numbers. Some think these are Nazi codes, others Swiss bank account numbers. When we learn the boy was in a death camp the numbers take on an altogether more sinister meaning. Soon the parrot vanishes and a man is killed. The beekeeper, who we now realise is Holmes but is always referred to as the old man, agrees to come out of retirement, not to solve the murder, but to reunite the Jewish boy with his only remaining companion.
The finest achievement of Kavalier & Clay is perhaps the underlying weakness of this novella – the characters, so compellingly integrated and wholeheartedly imagined in K&C, are shadowy entities here. In a novella of 130 pages it’s probably over-ambitious to head hop but this is what Chabon does. The story unfurls from within the consciousness of various characters, including, in the novella’s supreme act of whimsy, the parrot’s and so we never quite feel emotionally engaged in what’s going on. What could be a moving tale of the sundering of companionship becomes more of a whimsical ventriloquist act. It predates David Mitchell’s mischief in mixing and matching genres but seems a bit rough and raw in the light of Mitchell’s adrenaline-charged artistry.
Probably no other writer has addressed the Holocaust in such an original manner as Chabon. Who else would come up with comic book heroes and a talking parrot as protagonists to offset the evil of Nazi Germany? It’s easy to imagine Chabon being utterly immersed while writing Kavalier & Clay and just as easy to imagine him writing this in his spare time, as a kind of playful game. It’s clever but more like an exercise in cleverness than a heartfelt elegy to detective fiction or Holocaust victims.
January 9, 2020
Blah. Read this some days ago & the very fact that I did really just pretty casually slipped my mind...
Yep. It's that unphenomenal type of lit that was in actuality a contract agreement between lauded Pulitzer Prize winning author and publishing house. Well, yeah. This fulfills its primary duty indeed: it takes up space on a bookshelf. It is another title to place under the writer's list of titles.
At 131 pages, you know that this will be a clear cut elementary "story of detection" paint-it-by-numbers-type of experience. But never a hint of the greatness that made "Kavalier and Clay" a winner; nor a speck of the wit & readability of "Mysteries of Pittsburgh"... its only cranial prose with very little to gain. Yea, the kid with the parrot is emblematic, and the littering of detective agents (that is, detection novel devises) is a trademark of noir... but its all got a nonadventurous way of getting under your skin, of making you feel a blah that lasts way longer than any of it should...
Read, just to get it over with. The guy is a must, and if you have that o so blessed Readermania, then you will get to this eventually anyway...
Yep. It's that unphenomenal type of lit that was in actuality a contract agreement between lauded Pulitzer Prize winning author and publishing house. Well, yeah. This fulfills its primary duty indeed: it takes up space on a bookshelf. It is another title to place under the writer's list of titles.
At 131 pages, you know that this will be a clear cut elementary "story of detection" paint-it-by-numbers-type of experience. But never a hint of the greatness that made "Kavalier and Clay" a winner; nor a speck of the wit & readability of "Mysteries of Pittsburgh"... its only cranial prose with very little to gain. Yea, the kid with the parrot is emblematic, and the littering of detective agents (that is, detection novel devises) is a trademark of noir... but its all got a nonadventurous way of getting under your skin, of making you feel a blah that lasts way longer than any of it should...
Read, just to get it over with. The guy is a must, and if you have that o so blessed Readermania, then you will get to this eventually anyway...
January 27, 2016
When Michael's wife came to town to speak, on her new book, "Love and Treasure", I finally read, Michael's small book ...."The final Solution"...which I had on my shelf forever. (it can be read in a hour).
I've met both Michael and Ayelet several times --as they are both great voices here in the Bay Area and in the Jewish Community.
The charm of this book was that the old man seem to be able to see himself through the young mute child. The parrot is interesting in this story -as it 'seems' to carry the clues of top secret German codes.
Its not "The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Klay", ....(the theme is is around World War II), but a rare little book this is. (worth an hour of your time).
I've met both Michael and Ayelet several times --as they are both great voices here in the Bay Area and in the Jewish Community.
The charm of this book was that the old man seem to be able to see himself through the young mute child. The parrot is interesting in this story -as it 'seems' to carry the clues of top secret German codes.
Its not "The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Klay", ....(the theme is is around World War II), but a rare little book this is. (worth an hour of your time).
July 31, 2017
I have a copy of The Complete Sherlock Holmes, Volume I that has sat on my bookshelf for at least half of my life. I have never opened it, nor read anything by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
And that's why I was so utterly ignorant that this was Michael Chabon's (SHAY-bon's) nod to his first favorite writer, Doyle, and his first favorite love of Sherlock Holmes.
Turns out, the old man in this novel is an 89-year-old Holmes, circa 1944, pulled out of retirement and beekeeping by the current authorities, to tend to a local mystery.
Silly me, I thought it was just a quirky old man and a mystery set during WWII in England. I missed everything that Sherlock Holmes fans would have detected (pun intended). All of the references and nuances were lost on me.
But, here's what wasn't lost on me: Chabon's writing. This is my second novel of his, and I've read them both in the past month.
And, I know I shouldn't admit this in such a public venue, but. . . I think I'm starting to have a decent little crush on this Michael Chabon.
His writing takes me back to those lazy afternoons when I was a teenager and, after my many vacuous dealings with peers, I would lock my bedroom door and enter the worlds established by Graham Greene and F. Scott Fitzgerald.
Those men really knew me, knew I wasn't just a silly girl, and they didn't drive old Camaros, either.
And there's something about this Chabon guy that takes me back there, back to an old school brilliance in writing that I revel in. His words seem to unlock my blocked synaptic connections, and they make me feel nostalgic, and sometimes immortal, too.
Plus, I find myself wondering about his pen. You know. . . the one he writes with?
Sherlock Holmes!
And that's why I was so utterly ignorant that this was Michael Chabon's (SHAY-bon's) nod to his first favorite writer, Doyle, and his first favorite love of Sherlock Holmes.
Turns out, the old man in this novel is an 89-year-old Holmes, circa 1944, pulled out of retirement and beekeeping by the current authorities, to tend to a local mystery.
Silly me, I thought it was just a quirky old man and a mystery set during WWII in England. I missed everything that Sherlock Holmes fans would have detected (pun intended). All of the references and nuances were lost on me.
But, here's what wasn't lost on me: Chabon's writing. This is my second novel of his, and I've read them both in the past month.
And, I know I shouldn't admit this in such a public venue, but. . . I think I'm starting to have a decent little crush on this Michael Chabon.
His writing takes me back to those lazy afternoons when I was a teenager and, after my many vacuous dealings with peers, I would lock my bedroom door and enter the worlds established by Graham Greene and F. Scott Fitzgerald.
Those men really knew me, knew I wasn't just a silly girl, and they didn't drive old Camaros, either.
And there's something about this Chabon guy that takes me back there, back to an old school brilliance in writing that I revel in. His words seem to unlock my blocked synaptic connections, and they make me feel nostalgic, and sometimes immortal, too.
Plus, I find myself wondering about his pen. You know. . . the one he writes with?
Sherlock Holmes!
July 14, 2007
I’m downgrading this to a two and am tempted to give it the damning single star but for the fact that Chabon is such a master of cleverness and has such a huge vocabulary I have to admit some sliver of awe and respect. That’s the failing, too, of this book for me. I looked hard and could find no soul. It read like an exercise, with a few interesting results (an admirable point-of-view-of-the-parrot passage, an attempt to embody the mid-century Britishers’ mannered language and vocabulary). This edition has an interview with the author at the back in which he extols the virtues of the genre-pulp writers, as well as (or including) Conan Doyle, the model for this one. In theory I love that idea but in the end my problems with this book stem from 1). its excessive cleverness and ultra-self-conscious prose and 2). the limits of genre. As for the latter, I’ve found most of the other attempts to reclaim genre-writing equally unsatisfying—for instance Motherless Brooklyn. Both books seem the equivalent of listening to Winton Marsalis when you could be listening to Miles. What’s the point? Chabon perhaps brings an interesting postmodern sensibility in his prose style (zillion-dollar strings of colliding words), but the minuses that come hand in hand with the genre in the end take it down more than his obviously high IQ can lift it up (those minuses being cardboard characters, formula plot, lack of emotional depth, soullessness). How someone like Chandler (one of my heroes!) and other pulp/noir writers overcame those minuses was through a fresh and subversive writing style that was utterly unaware of its subversiveness (those over-the-top metaphors—I was so hungry you could see my spine through my stomach—!!), and through complicated and clever plots (usually, though The Big Sleep does happen to have a huge hole in the plot). The “mystery” of the Final Solution turns on a single revelation that is preceded by barely a clue and is clumsily handed to the reader at the exact two-thirds-of-the-way through point where enre writing prepares us to expect denouement. In the end neither my heart nor my brain were really engaged, though in the short moment, Chabon certainly glitters. While I’m ranting: When I finished this book with a feeling of having been cheated I did an estimation of word-count and came up with about 30,000. How does he get away with that?! No fair.
March 17, 2014
I'm stunned by the number of reviewers on Goodreads that have totally missed the importance of the title of the book, not only as a reference to a Sherlock Holmes story, but to the Holocaust. I'm also pretty upset that the book blurb spoiled much of the ending of the story. Really? Why??????
October 11, 2025
An aging Sherlock Holmes tends his bees on Sussex Downs
A retired old man in failing health, 89 years old to be more precise, tends his bees on Sussex Downs in the south of England in the summer of 1944. World War II is drawing to a close as the Allies have just invaded Normandy. While England is cautiously optimistic, its people still remain wary of Germany, its people and its ability to press the war with renewed vigor. Looking out of his cottage window, the old man spots a boy walking toward the nearby railway tracks with a large gray parrot on his shoulder. Concerned that the boy may harm himself on the tracks, the old man hauls himself wearily from the cottage and stops the boy with a shout. He quickly determines that the boy is a mute. The parrot, on the other hand, is anything but, filling the air with an endless stream of chatter, poetry and, oddest of all, an apparently random sequence of numbers, the entire lot of it spoken in German!
The boy is Linus Steinman, a Jewish refugee from Germany, who lives with Mrs Panicker and her husband, the local vicar, in their modest boarding house. When Mr Shane, one of the other boarders in the home, is murdered and it is also discovered that the German speaking parrot is missing, the readers learn that the old man used to be a well known detective - of no small skill in his working days - who on more than one occasion had assisted Scotland Yard and local constabularies in the solution of sticky mysteries. In this particular case, it is clear that Scotland Yard has considerable interest in both Mr Shane (whose origin is obviously not as he had claimed) and the parrot, feeling that the random number sequences may relate in some fashion to the codes used by the German military. The police and Scotland Yard, with considerable doubts in the old man's continued abilities, grudgingly request his assistance in solving the murder and finding the lost parrot.
While the "old man" is never actually named, the reader will, of course, realize that he is Sherlock Holmes with all his trademark characteristics. He continues to smoke his pipe stuffed with a vile Turkish shag; his long lean legs are certainly more feeble and arthritic than they were in his younger days but his hawkish nose and drooping eyelids remain alert for clues; his magnifying glass is still in his pocket; he continues to scoff at the ability of the police to destroy a crime scene and consider the irrelevant while ignoring the true pertinent facts of a case.
If a potential reader is looking for a clever mystery that requires the skills of a Sherlock Holmes for its solution and resembles the clever constructions that came from the pen of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, THE FINAL SOLUTION will fall well short of the mark and leave readers badly disappointed. The murder and the mystery of the parrot are resolved but, in my opinion, in a most humdrum fashion. Where THE FINAL SOLUTION did manage to shine quite strongly was in the simple but warmly compelling portrayal of an aging man, past the prime and sparkle of his youth, who retains much of his mental skill without the accompanying physical prowess to carry it off and who has no greater wish than to die without indignity.
At only 131 pages, THE FINAL SOLUTION is a short and easy read that does add something of value to the Sherlock Holmes legend even if that something is not a particularly interesting mystery. Recommended.
Paul Weiss
A retired old man in failing health, 89 years old to be more precise, tends his bees on Sussex Downs in the south of England in the summer of 1944. World War II is drawing to a close as the Allies have just invaded Normandy. While England is cautiously optimistic, its people still remain wary of Germany, its people and its ability to press the war with renewed vigor. Looking out of his cottage window, the old man spots a boy walking toward the nearby railway tracks with a large gray parrot on his shoulder. Concerned that the boy may harm himself on the tracks, the old man hauls himself wearily from the cottage and stops the boy with a shout. He quickly determines that the boy is a mute. The parrot, on the other hand, is anything but, filling the air with an endless stream of chatter, poetry and, oddest of all, an apparently random sequence of numbers, the entire lot of it spoken in German!
The boy is Linus Steinman, a Jewish refugee from Germany, who lives with Mrs Panicker and her husband, the local vicar, in their modest boarding house. When Mr Shane, one of the other boarders in the home, is murdered and it is also discovered that the German speaking parrot is missing, the readers learn that the old man used to be a well known detective - of no small skill in his working days - who on more than one occasion had assisted Scotland Yard and local constabularies in the solution of sticky mysteries. In this particular case, it is clear that Scotland Yard has considerable interest in both Mr Shane (whose origin is obviously not as he had claimed) and the parrot, feeling that the random number sequences may relate in some fashion to the codes used by the German military. The police and Scotland Yard, with considerable doubts in the old man's continued abilities, grudgingly request his assistance in solving the murder and finding the lost parrot.
While the "old man" is never actually named, the reader will, of course, realize that he is Sherlock Holmes with all his trademark characteristics. He continues to smoke his pipe stuffed with a vile Turkish shag; his long lean legs are certainly more feeble and arthritic than they were in his younger days but his hawkish nose and drooping eyelids remain alert for clues; his magnifying glass is still in his pocket; he continues to scoff at the ability of the police to destroy a crime scene and consider the irrelevant while ignoring the true pertinent facts of a case.
If a potential reader is looking for a clever mystery that requires the skills of a Sherlock Holmes for its solution and resembles the clever constructions that came from the pen of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, THE FINAL SOLUTION will fall well short of the mark and leave readers badly disappointed. The murder and the mystery of the parrot are resolved but, in my opinion, in a most humdrum fashion. Where THE FINAL SOLUTION did manage to shine quite strongly was in the simple but warmly compelling portrayal of an aging man, past the prime and sparkle of his youth, who retains much of his mental skill without the accompanying physical prowess to carry it off and who has no greater wish than to die without indignity.
At only 131 pages, THE FINAL SOLUTION is a short and easy read that does add something of value to the Sherlock Holmes legend even if that something is not a particularly interesting mystery. Recommended.
Paul Weiss
April 3, 2016
An African gray parrot recites strings of numbers in German. The parrot came over to Sussex with a young mute Jewish boy escaping from Nazi Germany. Do these numbers have military significance, or do they have a different meaning? When a man is murdered and the parrot is stolen, an unnamed older retired detective takes time off from his beekeeping activities to solve the crime. Under his gruff exterior, the sleuth's kind heart has been touched by this boy who has lost his parrot, his closest companion. This is a warm, entertaining novella that imagines the famous British detective (Sherlock Holmes) as an eighty-nine year old. Lurking below the surface of the mystery are hints that the young boy saw some very disturbing things back in Germany.
November 25, 2016
My first Chabon
Not the last
Loved the writing style. Reads like a treaty from a bygone age. Crisp language. Complicated. Beautiful.
A homage to the father of detectives and most definitely Chabonesque
Not the last
Loved the writing style. Reads like a treaty from a bygone age. Crisp language. Complicated. Beautiful.
A homage to the father of detectives and most definitely Chabonesque
November 25, 2008
I'm a Michael Chabon fan, and that may be surprising considering I have no special interest in his favorite topics: superheroes, homosexuality, Jewishness, and genre fiction. His novella "The Final Solution" hits three out of four if you consider Sherlock Holmes a superhero (or gay), and I enjoyed this one as I enjoy all of Chabon’s work.
Set during WWII, the scene opens with an elderly detective we believe to be Sherlock Holmes (it is implied, but the detective is never named!) He is now retired to Southern England, enjoying his bee keeping, and keeping to himself.
Then one day, he looks out the window to see a young boy walking dangerously close to the third rail of the train tracks. The "old man" rushes out to warn the boy off, learns he is mute, and later discovers the boy is a Jewish refugee of Hitler's Germany. The boy's only companion in life is a valuable parrot. Mystery ensues.
This novella goes deeper than a plot-driven mystery, with reference to Hitler’s final solution at the fore. And Chabon's treatment of the elderly Holmes is subtle commentary on life and meaning.
Not to gush here, but Chabon's prose glistens. The man knows his way around an image and a metaphor. I noticed some other reviews here on Good Reads complain "The Final Solution" is overwritten. They miss the point that Chabon is echoing the 19th century here. Besides, complaining about Chabon overwriting is like going to a Jimi Hendrix concert and complaining about too many guitar solos.
It's a fun story with good momentum, and skillfully executed.
Set during WWII, the scene opens with an elderly detective we believe to be Sherlock Holmes (it is implied, but the detective is never named!) He is now retired to Southern England, enjoying his bee keeping, and keeping to himself.
Then one day, he looks out the window to see a young boy walking dangerously close to the third rail of the train tracks. The "old man" rushes out to warn the boy off, learns he is mute, and later discovers the boy is a Jewish refugee of Hitler's Germany. The boy's only companion in life is a valuable parrot. Mystery ensues.
This novella goes deeper than a plot-driven mystery, with reference to Hitler’s final solution at the fore. And Chabon's treatment of the elderly Holmes is subtle commentary on life and meaning.
Not to gush here, but Chabon's prose glistens. The man knows his way around an image and a metaphor. I noticed some other reviews here on Good Reads complain "The Final Solution" is overwritten. They miss the point that Chabon is echoing the 19th century here. Besides, complaining about Chabon overwriting is like going to a Jimi Hendrix concert and complaining about too many guitar solos.
It's a fun story with good momentum, and skillfully executed.
September 23, 2024
Tetszett. Viszont aligha véletlen, hogy órák óta azon gondolkodom, mi egyebet tudnék írni róla. (Közben azért kirántottam némi patisszont is.) Talán némi evidenciát: hogy ez egy főhajtás minden angolszász detektívtörténet öregapja, Sherlock Holmes felé. Központi karaktere a megvénült nyomozó (nevét ugyan nem ejtik ki, de az olvasó tudja, amit tud), aki a második világháború paranoid légkörében összeakad egy zsidó fiúcskával, valamint rejtélyes papagájával, aminek következtében abba kell hagynia a méhekkel való bíbelődést, és még egyszer, talán utoljára beizzítja a rakétákat. Van gyilkosság, van rejtvény, vannak továbbá érzéssel, helyenként bravúrosan beállított jelenetek, az atmoszféra finom, belengi az egészet valami lágy melankólia, ami abból fakad, hogy látunk egy legendát az elmúlás küszöbén, aki a dolgok vége előtt szeretne még valami jót tenni: örömet okozni egy kisfiúnak. Szóval amíg olvassa az ember, addig jó neki. Aztán ha kijön belőle, kicsit arra gondol, lehetett volna több is. Ujjgyakorlatnak pazar, hogyne, de inkább csak kandírozott cseresznye a Chabon-életmű tetején, mint önálló fogás.
April 14, 2007
To echo the chorus, this book is quite disappointing. I surfed through the book staying aloft solely on its intriguing premise-- Sherlock Holmes (unnamed as such but recognizable just the same) survived Reichenbach Falls to live into the 20th century as a reclusive beekeeper and becomes embroiled in an intrigue involving a parrot spouting cryptic numbers perhaps related to Nazi atrocities. It never delivers on the premise, falling prey to an overly ostentatious writing style that suffocates the reader--even one who is susceptible to writing that is not dumbed-down and a bit baroque. Chabon uses a similar style in the yarn he's currently serializing in the New York Times Book Review. In this adventure story, it works like a charm-- witty, erudite, quite appropriate to its subject.
I wanted to like Final Solution, I really did. Yet, I only finished it because it was so short.
I wanted to like Final Solution, I really did. Yet, I only finished it because it was so short.
February 12, 2020
Well, I admire Michael Chabon’s creative ability here, a tribute (he says) to Arthur Conan Doyle – yet, I don’t really think what he was trying to do was successful. I was unmoved by the characters and unable to immerse myself in the story, maybe because Chabon’s style – mimicking Conan Doyle – seemed artificial. At least the story is short.
It’s 1944 and the aging Sherlock Holmes (never named though) is asked to investigate a murder and the disappearance of an African parrot who recites strings of numbers in German that could be important codes or ciphers. The parrot, Bruno, belongs to a strange, almost-mute young Jewish orphan named Linus, a refugee from Germany who lives nearby with the Reverend Panicker and his wife.
As a murder mystery, it isn’t very intricate or mysterious, with clues that involve Linus’s tendency to write backwards. There is a red herring or two, but we know who dunnit well before the end. And although the characters themselves never learn the meaning of the numbers, the reader is let into the secret.
But here’s the problem: Chabon leans towards whimsy too much - one chapter opens with a passage about Panicker’s ancient car that is close to farce - and that doesn’t sit very well with the title.
Yes, that Final Solution, but there’s a disconnect as the fate of Linus’s parents is never mentioned explicitly, (nor could it even have been known at the time).
The connection is revealed in a weird chapter “narrated” by Bruno.
Poignant? I know Chabon weaves the Holocaust into many of his works, but this didn’t do it for me. And let’s not ask how a pet parrot could have accompanied a child out of Hitler’s prewar hell-hole.
It’s 1944 and the aging Sherlock Holmes (never named though) is asked to investigate a murder and the disappearance of an African parrot who recites strings of numbers in German that could be important codes or ciphers. The parrot, Bruno, belongs to a strange, almost-mute young Jewish orphan named Linus, a refugee from Germany who lives nearby with the Reverend Panicker and his wife.
As a murder mystery, it isn’t very intricate or mysterious, with clues that involve Linus’s tendency to write backwards. There is a red herring or two, but we know who dunnit well before the end. And although the characters themselves never learn the meaning of the numbers, the reader is let into the secret.
But here’s the problem: Chabon leans towards whimsy too much - one chapter opens with a passage about Panicker’s ancient car that is close to farce - and that doesn’t sit very well with the title.
Yes, that Final Solution, but there’s a disconnect as the fate of Linus’s parents is never mentioned explicitly, (nor could it even have been known at the time).
The connection is revealed in a weird chapter “narrated” by Bruno.
Poignant? I know Chabon weaves the Holocaust into many of his works, but this didn’t do it for me. And let’s not ask how a pet parrot could have accompanied a child out of Hitler’s prewar hell-hole.
January 18, 2018
I forgot how much I love this man's writing. He does Sherlock Holmes almost as well as Laurie R. King, which reminds me that I need to get back to that series. (The first one is The Beekeeper's Apprentice, and the audio versions in particular with Jenny Sterlin narrating are superb.)
Anyway. This book has a low GR rating and I have no idea why. A couple of small issues with the plot kept me from rating it a five, but it was wonderful! The audio was also very well done. Highly recommended, especially for fans of Holmes.
Anyway. This book has a low GR rating and I have no idea why. A couple of small issues with the plot kept me from rating it a five, but it was wonderful! The audio was also very well done. Highly recommended, especially for fans of Holmes.
December 2, 2024
read this for class and was so bored!!
July 30, 2012
This novella set in rural England in 1944 is a playful vehicle for a gifted prose master to sketch some characters and wind them up for a few spins around the block. The form is of a classic murder mystery in which a retired master sleuth comes out of retirement when it appears the local police are about to railroad the most obvious suspect. Plus, he is sympathetic to a young Jewish refugee boy, who is mute and whose missing parrot is at the center of the case. As part of the writer's tongue-in-cheek counterpoint to the beautifully crafted narrative, several elements of the action are illustrated with cartoon images adorned with flowing banners inscribed with piquant phrases of his text.
February 18, 2009
Brilliant, intense, poetic exploration of a mind beset by great age. Oh yes-the mind is that of Sherlock Holmes.
December 19, 2012
Finally got to read this earlier this month, after wanting to for a good long while. I had very high hopes, having enjoyed Chabon's writing in the past, and being a Sherlock Holmes fan. And I was 99% satisfied, which isn't bad!
Really a novella rather than a full novel (though I definitely would have enjoyed another hundred pages), the story follows an elderly, retired detective (never explicitly identified as Sherlock Holmes, but heavily implied) searching for the stolen parrot of a mute German boy in the English countryside during World War II.
Chabon is one of only a few writers I've read who can pack each sentence with heady, ornate description, and still make pages flow by like you're reading a potboiler (Gregory Maguire being another example). He's a master of language, weaving it in ways that are both powerfully evocative and easily accessible. It's the writing - particularly the voices Chabon gives to his characters - which keep the central mystery of the missing parrot engaging - taking the long view, it's actually pretty simple, and doesn't require much more detective work on Holmes' part than to read a sign backwards in the window of a car. With a lesser writer, it would be tedious: with Chabon, you roll with it because just hanging out in the world of the story is enjoyable enough.
There's a larger mystery in "The Final Solution," as well: the parrot recites a string of German numbers in no apparent order. Several characters and organizations think they've guessed its meaning - German naval codes, a cipher being used by German agents, etc. (Holmes, uncharacteristically, shows little interest). In the end, however, these claims are all projections, people looking at something mysterious and seeing what they want to see. In the end, even Holmes has to face up to the possibility that his own thoroughly-logical process of deduction may, in the end, be an act of invention. As Chabon writes:
"And yet he had always been haunted - had he not? - by the knowledge that there were men... who squandered their brilliance and sanity in decoding and interpreting the messages in cloud formations, in the letters of the Bible recombined, in the spots on butterflies' wings. One might, perhaps, conclude from the existence of such men that meaning dwelled solely in the mind of the analyst."
This, in all honesty, was my greatest hope for a Michael Chabon Sherlock Holmes story. Detective stories are, at their core, all about truth. Doyle's stories were about an objective, logical truth that could be observed, deduced, and categorized. It was a Victorian style of truth. Today, our view of things is much muddier - especially when faced with something as insoluble as the Holocaust. I was excited to see Holmes go up against the truly mysterious, the truly unanswerable, and... basically see what happened. And while that isn't addressed directly (the full nature of the Holocaust still being unknown at the time of the story), the story's conclusion - from which the quote above comes - gave me that moment. It was great. Everything that came before it was great.
So why am I only 99% satisfied?
Because the climax is whimsically told from the perspective of a sentient parrot.
This is a literal description of what happens. It feels like it's been copied and pasted from a completely different story, and it taints some of the enjoyment of that hauntingly ambiguous conclusion. Because, you know, if you're going to tell an existentialist detective story about the Holocaust, you probably shouldn't include a scene WHIMSICALLY TOLD FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF A SENTIENT PARROT.
Just my two cents. I've never written an existentialist detective story about the Holocaust, so maybe that sort of thing is harder to avoid than I think.
Anyway, everything else was great, and as I said above, I would have gladly read a full novel set in this world, with this Holmes. I wouldn't even want more light shed on the mystery of the numbers (never officially answered, in keeping with the theme - although a solution is hinted at subtextually), although I'd love to spend more times with the Great Detective as he deals with the frailty and sentimentality of old age.
As a bit of trivia, "The Final Solution" is a nod both to the Holocaust (which looms over the entire story) and "The Final Problem," which was supposed to be Arthur Conan Doyle's final Sherlock Holmes story, before popular demand and a desire to keep making mad money led to Holmes' resurrection. Feel free to use that at the next party you go to. No need to thank me.
Really a novella rather than a full novel (though I definitely would have enjoyed another hundred pages), the story follows an elderly, retired detective (never explicitly identified as Sherlock Holmes, but heavily implied) searching for the stolen parrot of a mute German boy in the English countryside during World War II.
Chabon is one of only a few writers I've read who can pack each sentence with heady, ornate description, and still make pages flow by like you're reading a potboiler (Gregory Maguire being another example). He's a master of language, weaving it in ways that are both powerfully evocative and easily accessible. It's the writing - particularly the voices Chabon gives to his characters - which keep the central mystery of the missing parrot engaging - taking the long view, it's actually pretty simple, and doesn't require much more detective work on Holmes' part than to read a sign backwards in the window of a car. With a lesser writer, it would be tedious: with Chabon, you roll with it because just hanging out in the world of the story is enjoyable enough.
There's a larger mystery in "The Final Solution," as well: the parrot recites a string of German numbers in no apparent order. Several characters and organizations think they've guessed its meaning - German naval codes, a cipher being used by German agents, etc. (Holmes, uncharacteristically, shows little interest). In the end, however, these claims are all projections, people looking at something mysterious and seeing what they want to see. In the end, even Holmes has to face up to the possibility that his own thoroughly-logical process of deduction may, in the end, be an act of invention. As Chabon writes:
"And yet he had always been haunted - had he not? - by the knowledge that there were men... who squandered their brilliance and sanity in decoding and interpreting the messages in cloud formations, in the letters of the Bible recombined, in the spots on butterflies' wings. One might, perhaps, conclude from the existence of such men that meaning dwelled solely in the mind of the analyst."
This, in all honesty, was my greatest hope for a Michael Chabon Sherlock Holmes story. Detective stories are, at their core, all about truth. Doyle's stories were about an objective, logical truth that could be observed, deduced, and categorized. It was a Victorian style of truth. Today, our view of things is much muddier - especially when faced with something as insoluble as the Holocaust. I was excited to see Holmes go up against the truly mysterious, the truly unanswerable, and... basically see what happened. And while that isn't addressed directly (the full nature of the Holocaust still being unknown at the time of the story), the story's conclusion - from which the quote above comes - gave me that moment. It was great. Everything that came before it was great.
So why am I only 99% satisfied?
Because the climax is whimsically told from the perspective of a sentient parrot.
This is a literal description of what happens. It feels like it's been copied and pasted from a completely different story, and it taints some of the enjoyment of that hauntingly ambiguous conclusion. Because, you know, if you're going to tell an existentialist detective story about the Holocaust, you probably shouldn't include a scene WHIMSICALLY TOLD FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF A SENTIENT PARROT.
Just my two cents. I've never written an existentialist detective story about the Holocaust, so maybe that sort of thing is harder to avoid than I think.
Anyway, everything else was great, and as I said above, I would have gladly read a full novel set in this world, with this Holmes. I wouldn't even want more light shed on the mystery of the numbers (never officially answered, in keeping with the theme - although a solution is hinted at subtextually), although I'd love to spend more times with the Great Detective as he deals with the frailty and sentimentality of old age.
As a bit of trivia, "The Final Solution" is a nod both to the Holocaust (which looms over the entire story) and "The Final Problem," which was supposed to be Arthur Conan Doyle's final Sherlock Holmes story, before popular demand and a desire to keep making mad money led to Holmes' resurrection. Feel free to use that at the next party you go to. No need to thank me.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 13, 2011
Michael Chabon is an unapologetic nerd, which is one of the things that makes his work so likeable to me. He wins a Pulitzer Prize for a piece of historical fiction about two friends during the golden age of comics, and follows that audacious victory by writing a piece of Sherlock Holmes fan fiction that's barely long enough to be called a novel. So he publishes it as "A Story of Detection."
Unfortunately, it doesn't work for me. Chabon's gift for long, eloquently crafted sentences and his prediliction for shifting perspectives get in the way of an otherwise great little yarn.
I never expect sparse prose from Chabon, nor do I think a short story can't sustain stylistic flair, but as a subjective reader, I feel the story slipping away from me.
There are reasons for the rules that govern genre fiction. Generally, if you write a detective story, it is best to use first person or, at the very least, to limit the perspective to one main character. This creates a sense of immediacy, a feeling of immersion, and a focus that you need for that edge-of-the-seat effect and that sense of epiphany at the solution.
Chabon's changes in perspective bother me. Each one happens quickly, without warning, and they do not remain in play long enough to engage me. I feel that the climax loses its gravity because of one such change. Just as I adjust to the inside of the head of an unconventional character, the section ends, the tension releases, and the story is over before I have a chance to care.
There's also a reason I typically see short sentences in detective stories. Detectives are fact-oriented. The emotional and artistic movements of a detective story usually flow from an interest in the facts. While this is another rule that can be well-broken, The Final Solution suffers for it, at least in the heart of this reader. Long sentences seem wasteful, excessive, and distracting. The facts and bits of information that are so central to the solution of a story get fluffed, obscured, and blunted by long sentences.
That Chabon is the master of the sentence, and a powerful storyteller, remains clear to me. I just feel that The Final Solution broke rules to its own detriment, where Chabon's other work seems to benefit from the same gestures. So I won't say The Final Solution wasn't a good book. All I can say is that, as a reader and fan, it didn't work for me.
Unfortunately, it doesn't work for me. Chabon's gift for long, eloquently crafted sentences and his prediliction for shifting perspectives get in the way of an otherwise great little yarn.
I never expect sparse prose from Chabon, nor do I think a short story can't sustain stylistic flair, but as a subjective reader, I feel the story slipping away from me.
There are reasons for the rules that govern genre fiction. Generally, if you write a detective story, it is best to use first person or, at the very least, to limit the perspective to one main character. This creates a sense of immediacy, a feeling of immersion, and a focus that you need for that edge-of-the-seat effect and that sense of epiphany at the solution.
Chabon's changes in perspective bother me. Each one happens quickly, without warning, and they do not remain in play long enough to engage me. I feel that the climax loses its gravity because of one such change. Just as I adjust to the inside of the head of an unconventional character, the section ends, the tension releases, and the story is over before I have a chance to care.
There's also a reason I typically see short sentences in detective stories. Detectives are fact-oriented. The emotional and artistic movements of a detective story usually flow from an interest in the facts. While this is another rule that can be well-broken, The Final Solution suffers for it, at least in the heart of this reader. Long sentences seem wasteful, excessive, and distracting. The facts and bits of information that are so central to the solution of a story get fluffed, obscured, and blunted by long sentences.
That Chabon is the master of the sentence, and a powerful storyteller, remains clear to me. I just feel that The Final Solution broke rules to its own detriment, where Chabon's other work seems to benefit from the same gestures. So I won't say The Final Solution wasn't a good book. All I can say is that, as a reader and fan, it didn't work for me.
May 3, 2008
This is one of four newish books I recently read mostly so I could finally get them off my queue list, all of which were actually pretty good but are mere wisps of manuscripts, none of them over 150 pages or so in length. This one is the 2004 Sherlock Holmes tale The Final Solution by literary wunderkind Michael Chabon, like the others published originally as a magazine story (in The Paris Review; in fact, it won the in-house "Aga Khan Prize" in 2004 for being the best story to appear that year in that publication, according to the editors). This is an entire cottage industry, as a matter of fact, for those who don't know, the writing of new Sherlock Holmes tales now that the copyright on the character has expired; and I'm an obsessive Sherlock Holmes fan, so have now read dozens of these stories by contemporary authors other than Arthur Conan Doyle. And that's why I say that Chabon's take on the subject is bound to disappoint a certain amount of "Baker Street Irregulars" out there; because here Chabon is writing a story more for a general populace, using Holmes in an old-age setting (World War II, when he's supposedly in his nineties and living in the countryside) as an excuse to comment in more general terms on the subjects of dying, aging with dignity, and the onset of dementia. It's an interesting-enough story, I suppose, but ultimately a let-down for me after expecting another exquisitely reimagined Holmesian tale like so many that now exist; and then there's that unfortunate title (the name of the Nazi plan in the 1940s to kill all the Jews before the war ended), which somehow manages to be both offensive and not relevant to Chabon's actual story in any way whatsoever. Again, worth checking out if you don't have to spend any money to do so.
Out of 10: 7.2
Out of 10: 7.2
April 13, 2022
Really enjoyed Michael Chabon's addition to the canon, if one can say that. While he never explicitly states who "the old man" is, it seems obvious to any mystery fan. Old and frail, the old man embarks on one last case when a mute boy with a parrot wander into his life. Chabon does a remarkable job of resolving the story positively with a subtle nod to the sad reason the parrot squawks out numbers in German. I especially liked that there is a chapter specifically written from the perspective of the parrot where we get background on the bird itself and how he ended up with the boy. The game's afoot one final time indeed.
June 16, 2020
Štai kaip kartais būna su tais lūkesčiais. Kai ėmiausi Chabono „The Yiddish Policemen‘s Union“, visos tos Hugo bei Nebulos vertė tikėtis kažko... na, kažko. Ne tai, kad vilčių nepateisino, bet jei palyginsime su šita, kurią paėmiau be jokių lūkesčių, tai čia gavau tokį teigiamų emocijų fontaną, kad.
Chabonas žongliruoja žodžiais ir vaizdiniais. Žaidimai prasideda jau nuo pavadinimo, nešančio savyje dviprasmybę. Taip, tai ko gero paskutinė mįslė, kurią tenka išnarplioti pagrindiniam herojui, bet tuo pat metu tai ir tas pats juodasis nacių Endlösung.
Pagrindinis herojus nė sykio nepavadinamas vardu, bet nesusigaudyti, kas jis toks – neįmanoma. Tai beveik devyniasdešimtmetis senis, vos bepajudantis, tačiau užsispyrusiai tebeprižiūrintis savo bites kažkur Anglijos provincijoje. Ir štai sykį jis sutinka nebylį berniuką su gražia papūga ant peties. Berniukas, kaip ir dera nebyliui, tyli. Papūga, kaip ir dera papūgai, beveik neužsičiaupia. Ir mylimiausias jos užsiėmimas – vokiškai šūkauti, atrodo, bereikšmius skaičius: „Zwei, eins, sieben, fünf, vier, sieben, drei...“ Mįslė. Bet šitos gal senis nebūtų puolęs spręsti, tačiau netrukus randamas ir nužudytas netoliese esančio pansiono gyventojas, o paukštis prapuola.
„Paskutinis sprendimas“ – jokiu būdu ne detektyvas, nors visos to žanro dedamosios čia yra. Mįslė, žmogžudystė, nekaltas įtariamasis, tyrimas, sprendimas. Tačiau visa tai – kažkur antrame plane, o pagrindiniame turime žmones, jų charakterius, psichologines bėdas. Ir, žinoma, pagrindinis herojus – nubundantis tarsi šimtmečiais miegojęs ugnikalnis. Policininkai žiūri į jį nukorę žandikaulius. O kaip kitaip – staiga šalia išdygo legenda, kurios tikrumu gal net nelabai ir tikėjai. Būtent jo paveikslas man tapo vienu puikiausių atradimu šitoje knygoje. Ir, žinoma, atmosfera.
Penki iš penkių tik todėl, kad šešių penkiabalėje sistemoje nėra kaip duoti.
Chabonas žongliruoja žodžiais ir vaizdiniais. Žaidimai prasideda jau nuo pavadinimo, nešančio savyje dviprasmybę. Taip, tai ko gero paskutinė mįslė, kurią tenka išnarplioti pagrindiniam herojui, bet tuo pat metu tai ir tas pats juodasis nacių Endlösung.
Pagrindinis herojus nė sykio nepavadinamas vardu, bet nesusigaudyti, kas jis toks – neįmanoma. Tai beveik devyniasdešimtmetis senis, vos bepajudantis, tačiau užsispyrusiai tebeprižiūrintis savo bites kažkur Anglijos provincijoje. Ir štai sykį jis sutinka nebylį berniuką su gražia papūga ant peties. Berniukas, kaip ir dera nebyliui, tyli. Papūga, kaip ir dera papūgai, beveik neužsičiaupia. Ir mylimiausias jos užsiėmimas – vokiškai šūkauti, atrodo, bereikšmius skaičius: „Zwei, eins, sieben, fünf, vier, sieben, drei...“ Mįslė. Bet šitos gal senis nebūtų puolęs spręsti, tačiau netrukus randamas ir nužudytas netoliese esančio pansiono gyventojas, o paukštis prapuola.
„Paskutinis sprendimas“ – jokiu būdu ne detektyvas, nors visos to žanro dedamosios čia yra. Mįslė, žmogžudystė, nekaltas įtariamasis, tyrimas, sprendimas. Tačiau visa tai – kažkur antrame plane, o pagrindiniame turime žmones, jų charakterius, psichologines bėdas. Ir, žinoma, pagrindinis herojus – nubundantis tarsi šimtmečiais miegojęs ugnikalnis. Policininkai žiūri į jį nukorę žandikaulius. O kaip kitaip – staiga šalia išdygo legenda, kurios tikrumu gal net nelabai ir tikėjai. Būtent jo paveikslas man tapo vienu puikiausių atradimu šitoje knygoje. Ir, žinoma, atmosfera.
Penki iš penkių tik todėl, kad šešių penkiabalėje sistemoje nėra kaip duoti.
March 12, 2025
I've always wanted to read The Amazing Adventures of Cavalier & Clay, so when I came across this little novella, I snatched it up, hoping to get a taste.
I *think* the story was interesting... but honestly, it was so incredibly overwritten it was impossible to tell. The characters, premise and setting were so promising, but I found myself wishing it was just a tad less dense and flowed better, and a bit more clarity was offered in some of the vaguely implied situations.
I *think* the story was interesting... but honestly, it was so incredibly overwritten it was impossible to tell. The characters, premise and setting were so promising, but I found myself wishing it was just a tad less dense and flowed better, and a bit more clarity was offered in some of the vaguely implied situations.
August 11, 2021
הספר הראשון של מייקל שייבון שאני קוראת.
(ואני מודה שהחלטתי לקרוא ספר שלו רק כי הוא הבעל של איילת וולדמן)
ב1944, ימי מלחמת העולם השנייה, ילד פליט יהודי-גרמני שאינו מדבר, מופיע בכפר בריטי נידח ביחד עם תוכי אפריקני אפור, שמצטט את גתה ומדקלם שורות של מספרים בגרמנית. מעשה רצח שמתרחש בכפר, והיעלמותו של התוכי בעקבות זאת, גורם למשטרה לפנות לעזרתו של בלש זקן, מגדל דבורים, כדי שיסייע בפתרון התעלומה ויחזיר את התוכי.
דמות הבלש הזקן היא רפרנס מאוד ברור לשרלוק הולמס (למרות שזה לא מצוין במפורש), וזו הסיבה העיקרית שבחרתי לקרוא דווקא את הספר הזה של שייבון. התיאור שלו בערוב ימיו (בן 89 בספר) והזכרונות שלו מימי התהילה נוגעים ללב וירגשו כל אוהב/ת של הולמס.
באמצעות המוטיב של שורות המספרים שהתוכי מדקלם, והאפשרויות השונות המועלות לגבי משמעותם, ובאמצעות עוד כמה משפטים שהוא שוזר כבדרך אגב לאורך הספר, שייבון מדגים יפה את חוסר הידיעה - וההתעלמות - מגורלם של היהודים במלחמה ההיא. הספר מסתיים בצורה מאוד חזקה מהבחינה הזו.
לסיכום, סגנון הכתיבה של שייבון הוא לא ב100% הטעם שלי (קצת פטפטני מידי לטעמי), אבל אהבתי מאוד את הספר הזה. מאוד נגע בי.
(ואני מודה שהחלטתי לקרוא ספר שלו רק כי הוא הבעל של איילת וולדמן)
ב1944, ימי מלחמת העולם השנייה, ילד פליט יהודי-גרמני שאינו מדבר, מופיע בכפר בריטי נידח ביחד עם תוכי אפריקני אפור, שמצטט את גתה ומדקלם שורות של מספרים בגרמנית. מעשה רצח שמתרחש בכפר, והיעלמותו של התוכי בעקבות זאת, גורם למשטרה לפנות לעזרתו של בלש זקן, מגדל דבורים, כדי שיסייע בפתרון התעלומה ויחזיר את התוכי.
דמות הבלש הזקן היא רפרנס מאוד ברור לשרלוק הולמס (למרות שזה לא מצוין במפורש), וזו הסיבה העיקרית שבחרתי לקרוא דווקא את הספר הזה של שייבון. התיאור שלו בערוב ימיו (בן 89 בספר) והזכרונות שלו מימי התהילה נוגעים ללב וירגשו כל אוהב/ת של הולמס.
באמצעות המוטיב של שורות המספרים שהתוכי מדקלם, והאפשרויות השונות המועלות לגבי משמעותם, ובאמצעות עוד כמה משפטים שהוא שוזר כבדרך אגב לאורך הספר, שייבון מדגים יפה את חוסר הידיעה - וההתעלמות - מגורלם של היהודים במלחמה ההיא. הספר מסתיים בצורה מאוד חזקה מהבחינה הזו.
לסיכום, סגנון הכתיבה של שייבון הוא לא ב100% הטעם שלי (קצת פטפטני מידי לטעמי), אבל אהבתי מאוד את הספר הזה. מאוד נגע בי.
May 18, 2024
4⭐ 2024 book purge review
Excellent short mystery in Chabon's surrealistic style. The never named detective, heavily implied to be the elderly Sherlock Holmes, tries to solve the mystery of a 9 year old mute boy, a refugee from Nazi occupied Europe.
The boy is accompanied by an African grey parrot, which is constantly reciting strings of numbers, in German.
Chabon evokes his English setting with his well crafted, if somewhat baroque prose. His characters are well imagined and described.
Well worth the time, imo.
Thought about keeping this one, but it's well remembered and room must be made!
Excellent short mystery in Chabon's surrealistic style. The never named detective, heavily implied to be the elderly Sherlock Holmes, tries to solve the mystery of a 9 year old mute boy, a refugee from Nazi occupied Europe.
The boy is accompanied by an African grey parrot, which is constantly reciting strings of numbers, in German.
Chabon evokes his English setting with his well crafted, if somewhat baroque prose. His characters are well imagined and described.
Well worth the time, imo.
Thought about keeping this one, but it's well remembered and room must be made!
April 24, 2019
Not what I was expecting! Actually, I'm not sure I was expecting anything?
This little novella is Chabon's homage to Sherlock Holmes, though his "old man" is never actually named in the story. It's 1944, and our old man who may or may not definitely be a retired Sherlock Holmes, is living in Sussex, keeping his bees, and coming to terms with old age and a world that has moved on. This part of the story worked extremely well for me. It was so poignant to read about an aged Holmes, though the detective work isn't anywhere near as clever as Holmes was in his heyday, or as I've seen it in other Holmes pastiches. The detective work isn't Chabon's focus anyway. He embraces genre so much more than most literary authors (probably because he loves it himself), but his style is still pretty literary.
The other part that really worked for me was the silent boy and his parrot. Linus Steinman is a Jewish refugee living with a family in the English countryside, after his parents were killed in the war. He has suffered some trauma that has clearly left him unable to speak, and his only true companion is an African Grey parrot that spouts endless series of numbers in German, and sings lovely haunting songs. When the bird goes missing and a man turns up dead, Holmes agrees to help the authorities (who think the parrot holds German state secrets) not to solve the murder, but to find the parrot for the boy.
The murder itself, I didn't really care about, and I had very mixed feelings about the Panicker family (and their lodgers). There's also a POV chapter from the the parrot himself near the end, and I'm not quite sure that worked for me either, but I haven't really decided yet. Definitely one of the more interesting Holmes pastiches I've read, and not sorry I read it, but it was more literary than I think I wanted at the moment.
[3.5 stars, rounded up]
This little novella is Chabon's homage to Sherlock Holmes, though his "old man" is never actually named in the story. It's 1944, and our old man who may or may not definitely be a retired Sherlock Holmes, is living in Sussex, keeping his bees, and coming to terms with old age and a world that has moved on. This part of the story worked extremely well for me. It was so poignant to read about an aged Holmes, though the detective work isn't anywhere near as clever as Holmes was in his heyday, or as I've seen it in other Holmes pastiches. The detective work isn't Chabon's focus anyway. He embraces genre so much more than most literary authors (probably because he loves it himself), but his style is still pretty literary.
The other part that really worked for me was the silent boy and his parrot. Linus Steinman is a Jewish refugee living with a family in the English countryside, after his parents were killed in the war. He has suffered some trauma that has clearly left him unable to speak, and his only true companion is an African Grey parrot that spouts endless series of numbers in German, and sings lovely haunting songs. When the bird goes missing and a man turns up dead, Holmes agrees to help the authorities (who think the parrot holds German state secrets) not to solve the murder, but to find the parrot for the boy.
The murder itself, I didn't really care about, and I had very mixed feelings about the Panicker family (and their lodgers). There's also a POV chapter from the the parrot himself near the end, and I'm not quite sure that worked for me either, but I haven't really decided yet. Definitely one of the more interesting Holmes pastiches I've read, and not sorry I read it, but it was more literary than I think I wanted at the moment.
[3.5 stars, rounded up]
August 2, 2020
Last summer I decided that I was going to read all of the Sherlock Holmes stories. I went to the library and found an extremely large and musty old book that contained every one of the short stories and novels. I spent the next week reading them one by one. As I got closer to the end of the book I found that I was pacing myself so that I wouldn't read them too quickly. I wanted to make the book last, and obviously Conan Doyle wasn't going to be writing any new stories. He is long since gone and Holmes was retired to the country to tend bees.
Then I came upon this book by Michael Chabon. Clearly Chabon is a devoted fan of Sherlock Holmes. This story, taking place at the end of a famous life and after thirty years of retirement, takes great pains to recreate this character as an old man with both veracity and respect. The sleuth has lived anonymously in this town for decades and the author respects that need for privacy so much that he never actually uses the name Sherlock Holmes.
Fans of Sherlock Holmes will enjoy this book very much. Reading the story is like meeting an old friend. You're somewhat shocked at how he's aged, but it feels natural and authentic. There is also an interesting mystery. The mystery isn't as tightly woven, or the solution as surprising, as you would find in the best of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's work, but it moves along nicely and there is a very poignant heart to the story.
For those who have not read Sherlock Holmes this book is still very much worth reading. Even if you're not familiar with the character, and therefore don't get all of the little "tip of the cap" references to the Conan Doyle stories, you will still find him to be an interesting and compelling character. More to the point, you will find this story to be both interesting and compelling. It takes place in England during 1944 and centers around a little Jewish boy who was smuggled out of Germany to avoid the gas chamber. His father was a noted psychiatrist and his family escaped the death camps as long as they did because a Nazi official needed treatment for a sleep disorder. But, at some point the family feared that it would suffer the fate of their friends and family. The boy, along with several other Jewish children, were smuggled out of Germany with the help of Anglican priests and settled around the English countryside.
The boy brings with him a very unusual pet who speaks for him now that the trauma of his life has left him mute. One day the boy and his pet meet Holmes by chance, and the story begins. The mystery that this child and his pet hold within them is the essence of an innocent child trying to make horror into something that he can process. Adults with Machiavellian schemes move in and out of the child's life. He's being cared for by a well-meaning couple, but they are so absorbed in their own disappointed lives that they can't really offer him the assistance or protection that he needs.
Sherlock Holmes comes out of retirement to aid the boy and struggles with the realities of what time has taken from him. Physically and mentally he is no longer able to make the same leaps that he once made so easily without exerting great effort.
The story unfolds quickly (the book is only 131 pages long) in a way that is very much in keeping with the tradition of Conan Doyle's short stories. The subject matter is compelling and emotional. The writing is very well done. I highly recommend this book!
Then I came upon this book by Michael Chabon. Clearly Chabon is a devoted fan of Sherlock Holmes. This story, taking place at the end of a famous life and after thirty years of retirement, takes great pains to recreate this character as an old man with both veracity and respect. The sleuth has lived anonymously in this town for decades and the author respects that need for privacy so much that he never actually uses the name Sherlock Holmes.
Fans of Sherlock Holmes will enjoy this book very much. Reading the story is like meeting an old friend. You're somewhat shocked at how he's aged, but it feels natural and authentic. There is also an interesting mystery. The mystery isn't as tightly woven, or the solution as surprising, as you would find in the best of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's work, but it moves along nicely and there is a very poignant heart to the story.
For those who have not read Sherlock Holmes this book is still very much worth reading. Even if you're not familiar with the character, and therefore don't get all of the little "tip of the cap" references to the Conan Doyle stories, you will still find him to be an interesting and compelling character. More to the point, you will find this story to be both interesting and compelling. It takes place in England during 1944 and centers around a little Jewish boy who was smuggled out of Germany to avoid the gas chamber. His father was a noted psychiatrist and his family escaped the death camps as long as they did because a Nazi official needed treatment for a sleep disorder. But, at some point the family feared that it would suffer the fate of their friends and family. The boy, along with several other Jewish children, were smuggled out of Germany with the help of Anglican priests and settled around the English countryside.
The boy brings with him a very unusual pet who speaks for him now that the trauma of his life has left him mute. One day the boy and his pet meet Holmes by chance, and the story begins. The mystery that this child and his pet hold within them is the essence of an innocent child trying to make horror into something that he can process. Adults with Machiavellian schemes move in and out of the child's life. He's being cared for by a well-meaning couple, but they are so absorbed in their own disappointed lives that they can't really offer him the assistance or protection that he needs.
Sherlock Holmes comes out of retirement to aid the boy and struggles with the realities of what time has taken from him. Physically and mentally he is no longer able to make the same leaps that he once made so easily without exerting great effort.
The story unfolds quickly (the book is only 131 pages long) in a way that is very much in keeping with the tradition of Conan Doyle's short stories. The subject matter is compelling and emotional. The writing is very well done. I highly recommend this book!
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