Another entry in the classic Holmes-ish genius solves mysteries that no one else can, complete with too-vague hints at the solution, and badgering by audience stand-ins demanding a straightforward answer.

The good: actually pretty incisive and cynical take on power and wealth. The solution often involves letting the rich murderer go since it would be impractical to bring them up on charges. The knowledge that this is how the world works is the titular "too much."

The bad: definitely dated. Has casual antisemitism as well as racist remarks about brown people. Also features the type of misogyny that just never bothers to mention women in any meaningful way.

I dont think I really understood this book... :(

I went back and forth about whether or not I liked this book. I liked it sometimes, when the stories were longer and more involved, when they went more into the time and place of the story. Some of the chapters/stories were only a page or so long, and to solve a mystery so quickly feels like it was either not much of a mystery, or it wasn't worth telling since there's no detail. But the longer stories allowed Chesterton's talent to shine through. His mastery of words really shows up in the longer passages, as does his understanding of politics. The journalist character was much more compelling to me than the man who knew too much. He just seemed too smug, and cynical. It's hard to like a character that knows everything. Unlike Hercule Poirot, another character that seems to know everything, Fisher is not developed as a likable character. He is meant to be nebulous, a specter that you never really understand or get a hold on, and I'm sure it's some sort of metaphor, but for what? I don't know that it's worth knowing, either.

I felt blase about the entire book, and in the middle, I thought about not even coming back to it. I left this one to read two others, and it was a chore to return. But still, I waver between two and three stars because the parts that were good were really good, and absolutely worth it. It just seems that there are a few stories that could have been omitted to make it a better book. Also, I think I would have liked it even better had Chesterton taken the longer stories and made them novella length, omitting the others.

Author: G.K. Chesterton
Title: The Man Who Knew too Much
Description: This is a collection of short detective stories. It really reminded me of Sherlock Holmes—written around the same time, very much centered around deduction, etc. Not being much of a Holmes fan, I’m not sure why Holmes was so successful and Horne Fisher (Chesterton’s detective) not so much. Maybe Chesterton is too topical; the stories are very much late nineteenth century Britain.
Review source: As one of those hoary classics, this book was free on kindle.
Characters: Horne Fisher is the detective and he is the only character who is in all of the stories, although there is a Watson-type fellow who shows up now and again.
Writing style: Typical for the era… requires a bit of concentration, but rewarding if you stick with it.
Audience: Chesterton fans, Holmes fans, those who like detective short stories.
Wrap-up: I read ‘em one at a time on the treadmill and they kept me going pretty well. 4/5*

Ugh. I'm 3 stories in and don't think I can finish it. Not only is it similar in format to Holmes' stories (smart main detective explaining things to his sidekick) and so seems like a repeat, but it's poorly written. A scene will be set up with characters having interacted for a whole afternoon and then all of a sudden a new character starts talking, with no segue or context or indication that they'd been there at all. I can appreciate that he was one of the authors who started this form of mystery, but I can't take the writing. It's hard to believe this is a classic. The stories read like a play or a screenplay with no stage direction.

A strange book, hard to follow.

This is a hidden gem. Clever, droll, quirky, subversive and timeless. And not just a series of detective stories - also a social commentary. Timeless because not a word is wasted.

A fan of G. K. Chesterton, I picked up The Man Who Knew Too Much in an attempt to expand my reading of his work. Although the story was far choppier than, say, The Man Who Was Thursday, his prose remained as delicious as always. Read it as a collection of short stories with a common theme rather than as a unified novel, and you'll be happier in its progression than I was at first.