The Valley Of Fear (1915) By Arthur Conan Doyle

"The temptation to form premature theories upon insufficient data is the bane of our profession."

This, the seventh book in Arthur Conan Doyle's iconic collection of Sherlock Holmes adventures, is one of his lesser heralded novels, certainly when compared to the other major mysteries, such as 'A Study In Scarlet' and 'The Hound Of The Baskervilles', but was no less an intriguing proposition to me, particularly having read the six previous collections to this point.

"Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself; but talent instantly recognizes genius."

Despite, as I said, being nowhere near as famous as the other major Sherlock Holmes mysteries, I thought this was still a very engaging read. The mystery had a similar two-part layout as some of Doyle's previous works, like 'The Sign Of The Four', which had proven to be a successful format, and, in my view, was very much so again. It makes the world of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson feel so much larger and more interesting, and provides so much more characterisation for the perpetrators and victims of the crimes.

"Everything comes in circles... The old wheel turns, and the same spoke comes up. It's all been done before, and will be again."

I actually found the second half of the narrative - the flashback - the more interesting of the two pieces of the story, with it giving a fascinating, albeit fictional, look into the lives of the early non-indigenous Americans. It also involved plenty of conspiracy and mystery, two things the author was infamous for enjoying and investing his time and beliefs into in the real world.

"It is, I admit, mere imagination; but how often is imagination the mother of truth?"

Although this may not be his most famous or best Holmes and Watson mystery, it is yet another example of Doyle's ability to create memorable and lasting characters, as well as tantalising mysteries for them to become enveloped in. This certainly ranks amongst the upper end of Sherlock Holmes stories, as far as my enjoyment of goes. It is, to me, at least, a rather underrated tale, certainly within the context of Sherlock Holmes.

"Here at last there was a fitting object for those remarkable powers which, like all special gifts, become irksome to their owner when they are not in use. That razor brain blunted and rusted with inaction."