A family has been vilified and reproached for years. They are accused of being werewolves and causing misfortune, and due to the society's judgment they are forced to live in isolation. After suffering great losses, the protagonist is driven into a state of rage and "transforms" himself into a werewolf with the help of a dyed sheepskin and a mask.

An interesting early example of lycanthropy as a psychological disorder. Could also be interpreted as an intentional act to seize an opportunity instead of an involuntary delusion: why not try to shed the last remnants of a conventional society and act like a werewolf, when you're already believed to be one? The love aspect might be forced, if it wasn't about finding someone who actually accepts you for who you are, hair and all. The final sentence even has a glimpse of humour.

Inspired people to write more vampire stories and no doubt deserves credit for that. However, it wasn't as good as I thought. If I need to choose between Carmilla and this it would definitely be the former. I just wasn't very fond of the analytical writing that Polidori produced.

Even though I like some of the Disney movies they're mostly watered down and fluffy versions of these incredibly imaginative, dark and grim folk tales that the brothers Grimm collected. Even though not all the tales are interesting I would happily get this to my bookshelf anyway.

And finally, I would like to thank you my Finnish teacher who introduced the morbid world of the Grimms to my class when we were 13. She read the most memorable fairy tales to us under a red lamp and it made me travel back in time to dark woods in the heart of Europe with buckets of blood.

Whereas A Study in Scarlet had problems with pacing, The Sign of Four is slightly more balanced, although it's not without issues either. The problems lie mostly with the lack of suspense and an uninteresting mystery. India under the British rule is a fascinating era, but the treasure as a plot device was boring to say the least. The racism wasn't as bad as I initially thought, and because it was a part of the Western brain at that time, there's no point analyzing it here (although it is a fascinating thing to explore). The locked room aspect could have been explored even further, but the solution was very simple. Yet again, the recount of the events leading to the crime was superfluous.

Tonga was a painful cliché and a heap full of implausibility, but fortunately he didn't appear that often. Holmes seemed strangely passive, not to mention that he

Spoiler

failed to realize the boat might have been repainted

, which to me was unconvincing considering how sharp Holmes usually is. Watson was flat as usual, and he got to meet someone as flat as himself in the form of Mary Morstan. Their relationship is the same "you're pwetty, let's get mawwied" -thing that litters Victorian era literature, and Mary seemed to spend her time staring out of the window in a haze and dressed in one pretty gown after another. Wouldn't mind if we never saw her again.

I realize I may sound critical, but overall I did enjoy this as much as I did the first installment. They both have problems but still manage to be entertaining. Here we see for the first time how Holmes is shooting cocaine to "cure" his boredom (at that time cocaine was still used widely as a local anesthetic and recreationally in various forms, both demonstrated in the pilot of the new series The Knick, and which naturally led to hilarious and nutty advertisements), although it's not entirely presented as a good thing, since Watson tries to steer Holmes away from it. Maybe Holmes had read Freud's Über Coca: "You perceive an increase of self-control and possess more vitality and capacity for work." Holmes's habit makes him human instead of a completely virtuous person who catches evil criminals. Watson is the cheerleader, but Holmes is the meat and bones.

Still, I do expect the short stories to improve mystery-wise, since I don't see a point reading a crime story if the crime itself isn't interesting or puzzling. Interesting characters aren't enough if the actual crime-solving doesn't satisfy.

A few days ago I was about to go to the summer cottage without electronic devices, and because I didn't feel like reading anything from the pile I already had, I went to the library to see if there were more Elizabeth Peters's Amelia Peabody adventures. Apparently, the library hasn't acquired them in order (the horror!), so I have to buy the next one if I'm planning on reading it. Then I saw something interesting next to the other Peters's novels: crime novels where a monk is doing the investigating. A monk! This has to be good, I thought, and something totally different than the tediousness that is The Name of the Rose (1980).

I was laying on the pier and eating strawberries, when the skeleton was found from the field. From there on I was instantly hooked. I couldn't have been more wrong in my guesses for the culprit, although the ending made complete sense, and was even a bit medieval in a way. Although I prefer only the final revelation instead of the characters constantly repeating the evidence gathered so far and who could be guilty, I still enjoyed following Cadfael in his efforts to find who did it.

Things were also made more interesting by Cadfael being stuck in the monastery, since he had to ask permission for errands not related to his vocation, and because of that he had Hugh the sheriff to help him in the outside world. Not that Cadfael is a master detective. He and Hugh seemed pretty equal in their brain activity, although Cadfael is naturally the one who solves the case.

Not only that the mystery is rewarding, but Peters is also a wonderful writer in general. She depicts the environment and the monastic life vividly and beautifully, and weaves thoughts about life and religion into the narrative (of which the contrast between secular and monastic life was the most interesting). Her monks are imperfect and people's behavior in general is plausible and suitable for the time period.

My brain has a minor glitch what comes to the history of the Middle Ages, so the parts where Peters explains a little about the historical background went completely over my head. I have no idea who the king was, I can't remember who were fighting and why etc. That's just a small thing, however, because they're not important in understanding the plot. Although it should be noted that Peters never went to college but was self-taught, which is incredibly impressive.

The series is suitable for reading out of order, which is always a plus for me. I will store Peters in my mind for those days when I don't feel like reading anything particularly challenging, but still something a bit more serious.