Look, I have a complicated relationship with anthology audiobooks. The format is inherently risky—you're gambling that a rotating cast of narrators won't yank you out of the story every time a new voice kicks in. American Rivals of Sherlock Holmes is exactly that kind of gamble. And honestly? The house wins some, you win some.
Here's what drew me in: the concept is fantastic. These aren't Holmes pastiches or fan fiction. These are the actual American detectives who were competing for readers' attention in the late 1800s and early 1900s, when detective fiction was still figuring out what it wanted to be. Sleuths who existed in Holmes's shadow but carved out their own space in the genre. Hugh Greene compiled the originals back in 1979, and this Librivox production goes back to those source texts. For anyone who wants to understand where mystery fiction came from—not just the British side, but the American tradition—this is genuinely valuable.
The Narrator Roulette Problem
So here's where it gets messy. Multiple narrators means multiple experiences, and they're not all created equal. Some of these readers absolutely nail it—clear delivery, solid pacing, voices that differentiate characters without becoming cartoonish. The kind of narration that makes you forget you're listening to a volunteer production.
Then there are the others.
I won't pretend I didn't zone out during a few stories. Some narrators slip into monotone territory, especially during the exposition-heavy passages (and Victorian-era detective fiction has a LOT of exposition). Mispronunciations scattered throughout—the kind that make you wince if you're paying attention. And the audio quality varies. Not dramatically, but enough that you notice the shift between stories.
The thing is, this is Librivox. These are volunteer readers who love this material enough to record it for free. I can't be too harsh about that. But I also can't pretend inconsistency doesn't affect the listening experience, because it absolutely does.
When the Gaslight Hits Right
What saves this collection—what actually makes it worth the twelve-plus hours—is the source material itself. These stories understand something that a lot of modern mystery writers forget: atmosphere matters as much as the puzzle. The Victorian and Edwardian settings aren't just backdrops. They're characters. House of a Thousand Candles does something similar with its turn-of-the-century Indiana setting—the architecture itself becomes part of the mystery. The gaslit streets, the formal social structures, the way information moved (or didn't) before telephones were everywhere—all of it shapes how these detectives work.
And the detectives themselves are fascinating precisely because they're NOT Holmes. They're working in his shadow, sure, but they're also responding to a specifically American context. Different social dynamics. Different criminal underworlds. Different assumptions about who can be a detective and what that means.
I found myself pausing between stories to look up the original authors. Some of these writers were genuinely popular in their day—they just didn't have the staying power of Conan Doyle. I had that same experience with Other Mrs.—solid mystery work that doesn't reinvent the wheel but knows exactly what it's doing. That's not because they were worse. Sometimes it's just luck. Sometimes it's marketing. Sometimes it's the fact that Holmes became a cultural phenomenon that swallowed everything else.
Who's Going to Love This (And Who Should Skip)
If you're the kind of listener who needs consistency, who gets thrown off by voice changes, this might not be for you. The ensemble approach can feel like old radio drama when it works—and like a jarring mess when it doesn't. Skip it if narrator quality is a dealbreaker.
But if you're interested in the history of detective fiction? If you want to understand the genre beyond the obvious names? This is worth the inconsistency. I listened to most of it during late-night library closing shifts, which honestly felt appropriate. Dim lights, empty stacks, century-old mysteries playing in my earbuds. Shirley (my cat, not Jackson—though obviously named after her) was unimpressed when I got home and wanted to discuss the narrative structure of turn-of-the-century American crime fiction. Her loss.
Case Closed
The production is clean enough. No major technical disasters. Just the inevitable unevenness that comes with multiple volunteer narrators working on the same project. If you're coming to this expecting Stephen Fry-level polish, recalibrate your expectations. But if you're coming to this as a genre nerd who wants to dig into the roots of detective fiction, you'll find something valuable here. Just maybe keep your finger near the skip button for the slower stretches.
