Raffles is a public-school cad and master burglar, with an aptitude for cricket and a passion for crime – a loveable rogue who steals from the rich not to give to the poor, but rather to subsidize his own splendid lifestyle (he has an unimpeachable address at Albany in St James’). Along with his sidekick – his former schoolmate and fellow gambler Harry ‘Bunny’ Manders – he embarks on a series of thefts. But will they get away with it?
Described as an “alternative to Sherlock Holmes”, Raffles features a pair of criminal buddies rather than a crime fighting duo. Narrated by the right-hand-man Bunny (sound familiar?) we are thrown into the questionable behaviour and morals of the antihero Raffles. (Think of this as a fond homage to Holmes where the overall premise is reversed.) In fact, this book’s dedication reads ‘To A.C.D., This Form of Flattery’. Interestingly, author E. W. Hornung was Arthur Conan Doyle’s brother-in-law and by all accounts, Doyle’s opinion of Raffles wasn’t always complimentary. In his 1924 autobiography, though Doyle congratulated Hornung’s writing ability, he wrote: ‘[the short stories are] rather dangerous in their suggestion. I told him so before he put pen to paper and the result has, I fear, borne me out. You must not make the criminal a hero’.
So, does this inversion of a very famous literary creation pay off?
Meh. That word aptly sums up the overall feeling towards this book. In all honesty, it was a frustrating, underwhelming read. The main problem was the melodramatic, old fashioned language with long, excessively flowery sentences. This can often be quaint and endearing but it made Raffles feel protracted and archaic. Chunks of text were used to impart some sort of information to the reader which could have been made clear in a handful of words. Again, this is fairly typical of books from this period, but it seemed to stilt the overall flow of the story.
Everything felt stereotypical and clichéd, e.g. the cad Raffles who is adored by everyone; the puppy dog sidekick who is thrilled with the tiniest bit of attention. Ah, Bunny. (I silently thought of him as a blithering bore which is perhaps a tad harsh). Bunny served as an irritant. He’s so malleable and easily persuaded it borders on ludicrous and Raffles wasn’t as loveable as what the author was presumably aiming for. There was nothing particularly meaty for me to sink my teeth in to and, quite simply, I didn’t feel any sort of interest or connection towards the characters.
Hopefully you’ve picked up on the fact that the writing quality isn’t the best I’ve ever read. In some respects it felt amateurish and repetitive, but more than that the exceptionally upper class public schoolboy language got on my nerves to no end. However, despite this rather damning criticism, the plot of each story did maintain some form of curiosity. The intricacies of each robbery were intriguing and the explanations of how the crimes panned out were good. Also, the lack of equality within the distribution of wealth is adequately portrayed.
Despite the problems, Raffles passes the time and it’s a short read, but I won’t be searching out more of his stories any time soon.