Chabon surely had fun writing this account of a new Sherlock Holmes case, taking place during WWII when Sherlock was quite aged, leading a lonely life in the country. Sherlock is sustained by his love of logic. The novella is sustained by the quality of Chabon's writing, but in truth I did not find the case very interesting, nor did I much enjoy the many passages detailing Sherlock's physical challenges in getting around. I wouldn't discourage other potential readers, but neither am I enthusiastic. It is interesting that the characters included a black clergyman who marries the daughter of a white clergyman and "inherits" the parish, and that this clergyman had a son. Arthur Conan Doyle himself achieved justice for a son of just such a family, who was falsely accused, and was actually an upstanding citizen (cf. Julian Barnes' "Arthur and George", a novel based on fact).

A huge dissapointment. This is my first read of a Chabon novel and may be my last. For a book that is only 130 pages (double spaced and large type) it has an agonizingly slow pace. Therefore, even though you are plodding along the storyline, waiting for something to peak your interest, the story ends abruptly. In this book's case the shortness of it came as a blessing. The best chapter is told from the parrot's perspective, and is the only one that kept my attention.

I was not aware of the Sherlock Holmes aspect of the story until after I finished but I do not think this would have added any interest to me. There was not a character that I was drawn to on an emotional level. Even the boy who wouldn't talk and clearly was intended to draw a sympathetic reaction from the reader was dull and unimportant to me.

The authors command of writing and vocabulary are impressive but I am left wondering if I had submitted this manuscript to publishers if anyone would have taken the bait. This book is an example of how once you get published and are successful with one novel the standards for your subsequent novels become rather low. In fact, your name printed on the cover becomes the most important part of the novel.

There comes a time in life when we must face the fact that there is no way. There is no path to take. If I do this, I will lieve this out. If I don't do this, I will hurt him. There is no way to escape from reality. And so, this book shows. The character shadowed in this book is foremost an old man, literaly watching his minutes past rumored to be a famous detective. Then, comes the fact of his thoughts which brilently weave themsleves to one theme: we will die someday lieving things unsolved, unsettled. The mystery he can not solve is of a Jewish boy and a parrot who mysteriously sings a certain code. The fact that this is taking place during a war, makes the characters and us as readers come to a conclusion that these numbers are a code. But once again this is left unsettled. Linus Steinman, the mute boy blends in to Mark Chabon's world of melancholy splendidly. The language captures the characters and the setting of South Sussex and makes us literaly think of a rainy day when the world will end. And so it may in this book called The Final Solution By Mark Chabon.Another point we must not overlook is the language which is of awe, of melancholy which also joins and is welcomed by the cast and plot of this novella. A person may presume that this means that this nouvella is dull, uncertain but this is just a mistake of words. It may seem as this but if you look carefully studying away the pages that tell the story of this old man and a boy and parrot you will see the beaty despite the rain. You will see a glance of the true meaning. All this plot is is just a metaphor for old age and what life means. And just to read this, is in it's self a wicketly wonderful Final Solution. It is a requiem, to life.

It does not make scense or do any good in reality when you see a boy and his parrot on your door step. You don't know if they are dream or reality, truth or dare as someone would put it into words. This is what kind of telescope you meet Mark Chabon with and his so called old man and part from him, you realize you were seeing through a dream. This dream is used for the man to realize. All the events are just metaphors in order to show a true identity of an old man. His vouice leaks through throught this book. It is a voice of melancholy, of knowing life will be over but hanging on. The beatifully carved language shows his thoughts. It shows his passion, bees. This, as you guessed also seems like a metaphor. It is just an event used to shopw the truth which even in the end is unknown. This is what breakes you and makes you. The melancholy flesh that makes you realize that you will die. And just for this, for this tiny thing , it is worth to read this nameless tuned called tHe Final Solution By mark Chabon.

** Spoiler Below **

This is not one of Chabon's best. The language is beautiful and some of the scenes are effective--for example when Mr. Panicker is driving his dilapidated car and almost runs down "the old man." The descriptions are great. But the plot is not fully wrought out.

For example, was the pseudo milk plant ever fully explained? What were they doing in there, besides milking "beef cows"? Colonel Threadneedle was from a London intelligence outfit and not from the local milk compound, so who were the other guys? Also, towards the end when the boy shows Holmes the piece of scrap paper with Mr. Black's shop address and the word "Blak" written on it--Mr. "Kalb" spelled backwards--how was Mr. Holmes so sure Kalb was the guilty party and that he had the bird? Sure, Mr. Kalb made contact with the boy, but he did so in the very beginning so there's no revelation there: Mr. Kalb was the one who caught the boy falling off the roof! . . . Someone who know the answers to these questions, please post.

The fact that the parrot's numbers turned out to be irrelevant--not bank numbers and suddenly no longer needed for the war effort--was disappointing. We were built up to expect something, and instead the book is conveniently wrapped-up and its loose ends are cut. Yet, having thought about the ending further, while I still find it disappointing on several levels, I am beginning to appreciate it, albeit in a cerebral kind of way. The "Final Solution" explaining the parrot's numbers is the sequence of train cars headed east to the Nazi death camps. The numbers are representations of dehumanized people converted into numbered chattel. In the last few pages the old man muses on this same theme, wondering whether human reason and understanding will be replaced by "lunatic cryptographers" and their codes, whether the dignity of man will be lost and human inquiry will be reduced to insensible numbers: to binary codes, percentages and stick-figure calculations. Holmes is a living relic of yesteryear and thereby has insight into the contemporary milieu. He represents the human face of curiosity: bravery and resolve, a gentleman's logic in the face of insoluble problems. But as the book ends, we are left wondering whether such virtue can carry on, or whether it will die and be absorbed by the void underlying the new and rapidly changing world. In the end is modern truth so esoteric as to be no more understandable than the indecipherable chatter of a bird?

There were some good moments in terms of character portrayal. For one, Holmes is very well depicted. We are given a man whose mind tries to overcome the failings of its body, a desperate jockey tired of whipping an all-but-spent horse. There is a poignant moment when Holmes and Mr. Panicker reach Mr. Black's shop and find it closed--Holmes bumps into a mental impasse, and we catch a glimpse of the despair that haunts him in his lonely hours. Holmes bangs on the empty shop's door with his walking stick--"'A Monday' said the old man sadly. 'I ought to have foreseen this'. . . 'Such practical considerations seem to lie beyond my . . . '--and the weak man lurches forward, eyes staring "as if blindly at the unanswering face of the shop." What does he do when the steps of logic end? When life has no clue there to greet him? Behind the great detective lies a feeble old man.

The book raised some interesting questions, but on the whole it could have either been a lot shorter or a lot longer. A longer book, which I am in favor of, would have allowed for the expansion of characters, better development and a non-jettisoned resolution of the plot.

It's only 131 pages, so you won't waste too much of your time if you read this book. Chabon fans might read it just to keep up with their author. Others might check out something else.