The back cover of this book is irritatingly misleading. I can understand why the publisher would want to highlight quotes claiming that it’s like “Oscar Wilde crossed with H.P. Lovecraft”, but that’s not terribly accurate. It’s more like a sexually ambiguous James Bond adventure set in the Edwardian period, right down to the characters’ punning names, the megalomaniac techno-villainy and the protagonist’s bed-hopping approach to espionage.

Gatiss’ prose is more refined than you might expect from a comedian-turned-novelist (as with Charlie Higson – I may have to reconsider my prejudice on this) and the book rattles along, though the narrative strand gets a little tangled now and again and the climax relies a bit too heavily on characters and motivations that have barely been introduced. I’m curious as to how the graphic novel version compares; it’s certainly easy to visualise Beardsley-esque illustrations for the book’s more florid scenes.

Oh, and the blurb also promises that Lucifer Box will discover “which tie goes best with a white carnation”. Now I might have missed it, but I don’t recall that critical sartorial question being addressed anywhere in the book … and dammit, I need to know!

I picked up the graphic novel of this first—I love the Beardsley-style illustrations. It appeals to my interest in steam-punk and decorative men.

Then I discovered my father had the novel—he claimed I_ had given it to him. It had got him in trouble with The Mother because she thought the book very immoral and rude. She then informed me that there were several other books of a similar nature in my father’s collection and wasn’t it dreadful (these turned out to be something called the _Saturday Book, an illustrated guide to the less savoury wall paintings of Pompeii, and a collection of articles from Esquire).

I guess The Mother thinks I don’t know about the Anais Ninn book in her knicker drawer.