When Holmes and
Watson are visited by the young Miss Harding, they cannot guess that they are
about to embark on one of their darkest and most mysterious cases. Miss
Harding's late uncle has left his entire estate to one of four cousins,
but only the cousin who solves an elaborate puzzle can claim the prize – a
puzzle contained within the very fabric of the bizarre Atreus Manor. The house
has already claimed the life of one of the cousins, and drove another to
madness, and Miss Harding will happily give up her claim if Holmes can get to
the bottom of the secret. But is she really ready for the revelations about her
family that the world's greatest detective will unearth?
Cover art by Dave Elsey |
Really pleased to have an original Sherlock Holmes story published in the wonderful Gaslight Gothic anthology, edited by JR Campbell and Charles Prepolec. It contains stories by some of the finest horror and Holmes writers around, including Mark Morris, Steve Volk, James Lovegrove and Angela Slatter, so I’m delighted to be in such fine company.
My
story, The Cuckoo’s Hour, is partly
inspired by the recent trend for 'Escape Room' puzzles, though it’s
really born of my obsession with Gothic fiction, especially Poe, and
livened up with a healthy dose of classic Horror inspiration from the likes of
Hammer and Amicus, that I've loved since my teens. Indeed, some
of the same themes were used in my recent Holmes novel, The Red Tower (no surprise really, as I wrote them concurrently),
although The Cuckoo’s Hour is rather more ‘sensational’ as the Victorians would
have it.
But don’t take my word for it: the first review is up already at Sci-Fi and Fantasy Reviewer:
The opening story by Mark A. Latham, The Cuckoo’s Hour, is not
only a strong opening story and one of the best in the anthology, but also one
of the best Sherlock Holmes stories I’ve ever come across. Latham seems to have
an innate understanding of the Holmes canon and characters, as well as how to
write gothic fiction, to the extent that there are times when the story feels
less like a pastiche and more like a piece of fiction Conan Doyle might have
written in his later, more spiritual years. It’s effective as both a detective
story and a piece of quiet horror, and features an ending that is genuinely
unnerving, both in terms of its implications and the subtle way that Latham
introduces such a twist.
If you’d like to know more, there’s a webcast with the
editors here.
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