Letters to Sherlock Holmes

Letters to Sherlock Holmes, edited by Richard Lancelyn Green (son of Arthurian scholar Roger)and published in 1985, was an impulse buy to pad out an order from Brotherhood Books -- it looked like a lot of fun. 

For decades, people had written to Sherlock Holmes at 221b Baker St, even though that address was occupied by a bank (it's now the site, sensibly, of the Sherlock Holmes museum). Some letter writers seemed genuinely hazy about the reality of Holmes, while others clearly realised that they were partaking in a shared fiction. He received letters inviting him to solve crimes, congratulations on his birthday, general admiration, or burning questions. The bank employed someone to answer these queries, which apparently arrived at the rate of a couple a day.

Well, all this sounds like a delightful whimsy, and the subtitle of the book promises 'the most interesting and entertaining letters,' but I'm sorry to say that in fact most of the letters are pretty dull. The questions are repetitive, the expressions of fandom are boring. It must have seemed like a cracking idea for a book, but it was a sorry disappointment. Luckily, it didn't take long to read.

A Letter of Mary

I genuinely have no idea whether I've read this book before or not! I suspect I might have, I know when I first discovered Laurie R. King's The Beekeeper's Apprentice at the local library, I immediately read all the books in the series that they held -- whether A Letter of Mary, the third in the series, was one of them, I don't know. I hunted through my reading diary and couldn't find it, so at any rate I haven't read it since 2011; but I've mislaid the pre-2011 reading diary, so perhaps I read it before then?

ANYWAY once you get past the ick factor of having Sherlock Holmes in the 1920s married to Mary Russell, who at 23 must be at least forty years younger than he is, these books are a lot of fun. Mary is a worthy partner, with her own independent academic interests, and she narrates the stories with verve and wit. I did spot one slip -- I think it was a slip: usually Russell refers to Watson as the chronicler of Holmes' adventures, but at one point she notices a copy of The Strand magazine "with Conan Doyle's stories inside"???

I particularly enjoyed the character of Dorothy Ruskin, who could have stepped straight from the pages of Square Haunting -- a no-nonsense woman archaeologist, expert in her field, who wears trousers and is impatient with men (of course excepting Sherlock). Even if I have read A Letter of Mary before, I enjoyed it just as much as if I hadn't.

The Final Solution

I found this very slim 2004 novella in a secondhand book shop (not Brown & Bunting, a different one at the top of High St whose name escapes me). It's barely 130 pages, including illustrations, but it's charming.

I've found Michael Chabon a little patchy in the past. Loved Kavalier and Clay; Gentlemen of the Road, meh. I was impressed to see that he was one of the creators of Netflix's terrific show Unbelievable. So I'll always give him the benefit of the doubt. The Final Solution is, of course, the last case of Sherlock Holmes, though the old gentleman is never named. We are in wartime Sussex, where Holmes has retired with his hives, when a murder and a mysterious disappearance require his involvement.

The plot itself is not amazingly satisfying, but the writing is gorgeous and the atmosphere of regret and nostalgia is tenderly conveyed. A quick read, but a sweet one.

Completely Sherlocked

Sherlock Holmes was my first literary crush (I'm not counting Captain Cook (who was, after all, real) and his disturbing attractive white breeches in my Ladybird book of the same name).

At first glance there's not a lot to recommend Mr Holmes as an object of desire. There's the casual drug use, the total lack of interest in women (or anyone, really), the constant smoking, the insufferable ego, the chronic untidiness - he must have been a pain in the neck as a housemate.

Ah, but the searing brilliance of his mind makes up for everything. And we all know that the cold, distant types merely present a challenge - because if they give even the slightest hint that they care, that hint is worth infinitely more than some soppy emotional type declaring their undying love and throwing roses at you. As Dr Watson says,

It was worth a wound; it was worth many wounds; to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.

Swoon! I shudder to think of the effect that this must have had on my later romantic life. Indeed, my first real world sort-of relationship was with a boy who bore quite the resemblance to Holmes -- super-smart, but cold and distant. Which is why it was only a sort-of relationship. But ah, the arguments were fantastic.

In recent years I've enjoyed Laurie R. King's Mary Russell books, featuring Holmes as Mary's partner in crime-solving, and later, life. But fun as these books are, somehow I could never quite accept Sherlock as a married man, demonstrating ordinary marital passion. Also he is, you know, old. And Sherlock Holmes for me is like a Time Lord; he never ages.

But now I've been seduced by Sherlock Holmes all over again. Sherlock, the new adaptation by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, with Benedict Cumberbatch as Holmes and Martin Freeman as Watson, is as genius as Sherlock himself. I've come to this much later than everyone else, I know, and I've only seen one episode so far, but that was enough for me to fall, and fall hard. Irresistible.