The Vesuvius Club is a Lucifer Box novel (the first of three), the subtitle of which is, “A
Bit of Fluff”. This indicates that it is not to be taken too seriously, but
also hints at a derogatory remark about a sexual partner. Indeed, there is lots
of barely-concealed double entendre on account of the fact that, in the
Edwardian era in which the novel is set, “London was in a bit of a panic with
the recent exigencies of Mr O.F.O’F.W. Wilde so fresh in the memory.” A comment
on the jacket describes the novel as “Oscar Wilde crossed with H.P. Lovecraft”
and, with the addition of John Buchan, that pretty much captures the genre
mashup. The tone is one of humour and horror with a dash of wit and the world
of espionage; there are archaic views of beauty propounded by the aesthetes (namely
youth and slimness), racist stereotypes, and action-packed set scenes.
Lucifer Box is a flamboyant portrait artist, who lives at Number Nine,
Downing Street. “I know, ostentatious, isn’t it? But somebody has to live
there.” He uses his position to get close to the rich and influential and to
provide cover for his clandestine activities as a secret agent. The Royal
Academy acts as secret headquarters, where the toilet partition wall slides up
to reveal the spymaster (obviously this also has other seedier connotations). He
enjoys his work and thinking up novel ways to eliminate enemies: “artistic
licence to kill, you might say.”
His mission is to investigate the disappearance of the Cambridge Four; a
group of scientists, all now missing, presumed dead. This madcap adventure
incorporates a whirlwind of stock thriller scenes: a horse-drawn cab chase with
pistols; a rendezvous in the mist at a mausoleum; wrestling in a steamy Turkish
bath; underground S&M clubs; glittering parties; an attack by a venomous
centipede; a hunt through the sewers; explosions; eruptions; and volcanoes.
From the opening sentence it is clear that Gatiss is parodying Wilde’s
linguistic style. “I have always been the most appalling judge of character. It
is my most beguiling virtue.” The novel is full of similar sayings, causing the
reader to wonder whether it is a witty aside or an empty aphorism. The illustrations
by Ian Bass echo those of Aubrey Beardsley, and the louche, world-weary
attitude is also familiar, as he fulfils his role with equal relish and ennui. “It
was midway between the fish course and the pudding, as Supple opened his mouth
to begin another interminable tale, that I did the decent thing and shot him.”
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