Crime fiction |

Chilly? Why not stay by the fire, reading about fogbound Victorian crime?

The champions of fogbound Victorian crime, of course, are Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Never out of favor, Holmes is especially so these days, thanks in part to the guilty pleasures of the Robert Downey Jr./Jude Law movies and the brilliant new BBC/PBS series "Sherlock."

Arthur Conan Doyle, who created Holmes and Watson, still dominates the era's writers of "sensation novels" so thoroughly that it's easy to overlook others. Michael Sims' valuable "The Dead Witness" (Walker, 608 pp., $20 paper) will help remedy that.

This hefty collection includes writers both familiar (Poe, Chesterton) and not (Anna Katherine Green, Émile Gaboriau). Nor does it neglect Americans, like Mark Twain and Bret Harte, who dabbled in the genre.

Sims adds some surprises, notably a wonderful piece of reporting in which Charles Dickens accompanies a bobby on his rounds. Bonus feature: Sims' concise and cogent introductions.

P.D. James' "Death Comes to Pemberley" (Knopf, 304 pp., $25.95) is a match made in heaven: An iconic mystery writer pays respect to Jane Austen by augmenting her equally iconic "Pride and Prejudice." It's a daunting task, but James' charm, intelligence, and big-heartedness succeed brilliantly.

For the Victorian theme, the time frame's a little off — "P&P" predates the Victorian era. It's 1803, six years after the events of Austen's book. Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy are happily married and settled at their beloved estate, Pemberley. Then, on the eve of a great ball, a disgraced relative gets tangled in a shocking murder.

That relative is the noted cad George Wickham, who in "P&P" ran off with Elizabeth's sister and was paid to marry her. When the body in the present case is discovered, Wickham makes a damning statement and becomes the prime suspect. The stage is thus set for a gripping court trial and a surprise ending.

James luminously captures Austen's formal but supple style and her bemused way of noting all-too-human foibles. It's possible to read "Pemberley" as a stand-alone, but familiarity with Austen clearly multiplies the book's many pleasures.

In another homage, Anthony Horowitz's new Sherlock Holmes novel "The House of Silk" (Mulholland, 305 pp., $27.99) vividly captures the flavor of the original stories. No wonder Arthur Conan Doyle's estate authorized it.

And speaking of icons: For better or worse, the locomotive's speed, power and utility made it one of the most potent elements of the Industrial Revolution. However, one of the "for worse" bits was the relative privacy and anonymity it provided for criminal activities.

"Murder in the First-Class Carriage" (Overlook, 339 pp., $24.95) is a nonfiction account of a real-life crime: A respectable London businessman is beaten, robbed and thrown from a moving train. The 1864 crime was, as the book's subtitle suggests, the first Victorian railway killing.

The evil deed shocked the public and galvanized the city's police force. Searching for the killer involved both old-fashioned, dogged investigation and the emerging (if controversial) field of forensic science.

These two arms of detection combined to ferret the truth from such slim clues as a gold watch-chain and a squashed hat. Two other recent technological breakthroughs — photography and telegraphy — also aided in speeding the investigation.

Once the London coppers succeeded in pinpointing a likely killer, an itinerant German-born tailor, they chased him across the Atlantic. In America, the hunt attracted considerable attention despite the nation's preoccupation with the Civil War.

Kate Colquhoun's book wears its scrupulous research lightly, providing rich context and detail to illuminate the era's dramatic changes. The result is as swift and absorbing as the most gripping suspense novel.

Adam Woog's column on crime and mystery fiction appears on the second Sunday of the month in The Seattle Times.