I recently wrote an introduction to Joel Meadows and Andy Bennett's excellent Sherlock Holmes reinvention, Sherlock Holmes and the Empire Builders—and you can read it below. (And if you want to buy the book, just click here.)
Growing up in New York City in the 1960s, the classic Sherlock Holmes films starring Basil Rathbone (with his deerstalker hat, raptorial features, and unerring intellect) and Nigel Bruce (stuttering, bumbling, and unfailingly loyal) seemed to be playing perpetually on our local TV stations, as omnipresent on weekend mornings as Abbott and Costello and the Bowery Boys. Rathbone and Bruce were my introduction to Holmes, a character who’s had an extraordinarily long life since he first emerged from the fertile imagination of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Like Batman, Superman, and James Bond, Holmes has far outlived his creator, assuming a kind of immortality, constantly resurrected and reinvented for new generations. We’ve seen innumerable literary incarnations (from life-long Sherlockian Nicholas Meyer to, of all people, Stephen King), movie interpretations (from the traditional Rathbone to the more anarchic Robert Downey, Jr.), and multiple TV incarnations (my favorite being Steven Moffat and Mark Gattis’s brilliant Sherlock). And we would never have had Hercule Poirot, Miss Marple, Lieutenant Columbo, Benoi Blanc, and dozens of other quirky, ingenious detectives had Doyle and Holmes not been there first.
The beauty of an iconic character like Sherlock Holmes (“iconic” is a word that’s painfully overused these days, but in Holmes’ case, it’s appropriate) is that the template is so sturdy, with roots so deep and strong, it invites constant reinvention. You can bend and twist Holmes in dozens of directions and, as long as you’re true to the character’s essence, he won’t break. (We know, instantly, when someone has violated that essence and turn swiftly away.) Which is why writers are constantly returning to Doyle’s world, ready to bring what they hope will be a new and unique perspective to Holmes’s adventures.
That said, given the overcrowded ocean of Holmesiana out there, it takes a considerable amount of courage to stride into those waters and launch yet another version of the character, to believe you have something singular to say. Which makes the work of Joel Meadows and Andy Bennett even more impressive.
Their Holmes is grittier, harder edged, and the world he strides through, with his customary confidence (some might call it arrogance), is darker: a steampunk universe of violence and corruption. Meadows’s script rockets along with impressive speed and apparent ease (I say “apparent” because I know how much hard work goes into making a story’s flow seem effortless), providing the expected, and often unexpected, twists and turns one wants in a Holmes tale. In Meadows’s hands Sherlock Holmes—nearly 140 years old, way past retirement age—feels fresh, new, exciting, and that is no small feat.
But comics are a collaborative medium and the best script in the world will die on the vine without the right artist to bring it to life. I’ve learned, over the years, that I could hand the same script to five different artists and get five different stories back. A comic book artist is constantly making choices—about “camera” angles, body language, panel to panel flow—and the right artist can raise my story up to places I never dreamed, while the wrong one can tear it apart, leaving it in incomprehensible fragments. Meadows’s collaborator Andy Bennett brings this adventure to vibrant life with rock solid storytelling, powerful emotion, and fine linework reminiscent of a woodcut. The art feels simultaneously modern and Victorian, a perfect blend. (I’m especially fond of Bennett’s striking full page illustrations, like the wonderful shot where we see biplanes and dirigibles flying over London.) That the story is in black and white seems appropriate, carrying me back to those New York weekend mornings, stretched out in front of the television, watching Rathbone and Bruce solve mystery after mystery.
And now it’s time for you to stretch out, perhaps light up an imaginary pipe, and enjoy this engaging tale. A brand-new game is afoot, but only Meadows and Bennett know how it will end. Relax, enjoy. You’re in good hands.
