I am very happy I didn’t buy “Moriarty” by Anthony Horowitz (Sherlock Holmes 2; ISBN 00623717183; 285p.; Goodreads), but rather chose to borrow it first. The book was dull to say the least. And in shorts, it’s about a deluded fan of Sherlock Holmes who got used due to being deluded.
After the death of Crime Napoleon, professor Moriarty, there’s a vacancy to take that spot, and all the ruthless, best of the best in this black cream, are up to try their luck. And when one unlikely fella finally fills in the spot, and starts expanding – our fan of Sherlock Holmes decides it is time to investigate it all. Full with a friend at his side who can narrate us the greatness of his deduction skills, he’s out there, questioning the criminals, having dinners, and taking up leads for, well, whatever the hell it was he tried to solve before an actual bombing happened to warn him off this investigation.
When there’s no Moriarty in a book titled “Moriarty” – you end up suspecting things, much like you would if you saw a famous actor in a minor role at the start of the movie with an undercover superhero, or a serial killer. This is the case, suspect everyone, because that might just help you get through this book!
I really can’t figure so what this book was about. It was fully summarized in the final chapter, when we finally found the most important, but too late, thing in the book, so I can’t even tell you that, in case you actually want to read this. There’s really a lot of nothing here, accompanied by poorly written characters, and mediocre detective story that didn’t have a core (no, really, this all was done for a very small reason, and it made no sense to make it so grandiose). I can only give it 2 out of 5, and I apologize to the author, I’m sure they are talented and wonderful, but these books, his books, are not for me.