I'm hoping to start a series of related posts with this one; all relating to various published books about Sherlock Holmes NOT written by Arthur Conan Doyle. They are also known as "pastiches." So...yeah. I will write a few, and Grace is free to write a few too, I know she's read at least one or two of them (she recommended one to me :D).
This book is called "The Canary Trainer." The book jacket description is below in italics if you wish to read that without ANY minor (note the word minor) spoilers whatsoever. (yes, I did include a few spoilers but nothing major. You gather most of it from the book cover anyway :D)
It was written by Nicholas Meyer. Actually, take that back. It's directly from the memoirs or John H. Watson, M.D., and EDITED by Nicholas Meyer. (he claims to have found the original manuscript stowed away in a university library...)
So. It's a pastiche of Sherlock Holmes. But not just any pastiche. A really well-written, keep-to-the-original-facts pastiche. AND the best part is: Sherlock Holmes' brilliant mind is put to the extreme test against another of the most brilliant minds in fiction.
The Phantom of the Opera.
Alright, so the author had to take the liberty of pushing the story of the Phantom forward (by...10 years I think, not that much.) which he did, in a believable way, to make it fit in with the chronology. I didn't mind a bit. I didn't even notice, until I read the acknowledgements at the end, in which the author thanks Arthur Conan Doyle and Gaston Leroux.
The story really opens when Watson visits the retired Holmes at his home on the Sussex downs...keeping bees, of course. He has organized his notes and wants to know what exactly Holmes did during the three years he was supposed dead. (did you ever wonder?) Holmes first ignores the question, than faces it reluctantly, and the story is begun (narrated by Holmes but of course published by Watson.)
Holmes, after escaping death at Reichenbach Falls, as we know, took on the name "Sigerson" and posed as a Norwegian, which I believe was briefly mentioned in "The Empty House." He admits he decided to become 'someone else' for awhile - he dropped his detective work and immersed himself in the world of music - teaching violin in Paris, until his landlady (by no means as patient as Mrs. Hudson) threatened to kick him out. He then, after attending the Paris Opera, witnesses the resignation of a violin player for the orchestra (for the opera performances) and is informed that he may audition for the part the next day.
Holmes auditions, and of course gets the part - meeting the orchestra conductor, Gaston Leroux, in the process. He then learns that the man so eager to leave the opera the previous night did so because of fear - fear of the Opera Ghost.
Of course, this sparks Holmes' interest...he investigates this mysterious creature (of course, with an open mind - we all know he does not believe in the supernatural) on his own for awhile, interacting with such famous characters as Christine Daae, the star of the Phantom of the Opera; Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny; the bumbling managers Mssrs. Moncharmin and Richard; and eventually, in a final confrontation in his house under the Opera Garnier, the Phantom himself.
And of course, no trip to the Paris Opera involving Sherlock Holmes would be complete without adding the famous soprano: the topic of so much debate regarding their relationship, Irene Adler (which, I must admit, puts an ever-so-tiny bit of romance in there between the two...Mr. Meyer did a good job making it believable though.) right in the middle.
Overall, the author did supurbly keeping to the character of Holmes...he didn't change at all, from manner to habits and it was surprisingly easy to imagine Jeremy Brett as Holmes solving the case (which, so far, only the original canon has been able to do for me). And of course, the other characters were exactly the same as always.
This book was so much fun to read, as it combined the best of both of my favorite books: the Phantom of the Opera and Sherlock Holmes. I give it a 4 & 1/2 out of 5 stars...and recommend it to any Sherlock Holmes fan (or Phantom Phan, but in this case, it's more of a Holmes book. It reads like one of his original cases.)
(Book jacket description):
"Located by computer in the bowels of a major university where it had collected dust for over half a century, this missing manuscript by the biographer of Sherlock Holmes reveals for the first time a hitherto unknown episode in the life of the Great Detective.
"Holmes, master sleuth, was also an accomplished violinist. Following his discharge from therapy with Sigmund Freud (see "The Seven Per-Cent Solution"), we now learn that he journeyed to Paris and there found employment as a pit musician at the Paris Opera.
"The year is 1891, Paris is the capital of the western world, and its opera house is full of surprises. First and by no means least is the sudden reappearance of the great love of Holmes' life, an accomplished singer from Hoboken, New Jersey.
"Second is the series of seemingly bizarre accidents - each more sinister than the last - allegedly arranged by the "Opera Ghost," an opponent who goes by many names and is more than equal to Holmes.
"Alone in a strange and spectacular city, with none of his normal resources, Holmes is commissioned to protect a vulnerable young soprano, whose beautiful voice obsesses a creature no one believes is real, but whose jealousy is lethal.
"In this dazzling, long-awaited sequel to "The Seven Per-cent Solution," the detective pits wits against a musical maniac, and we are treated to an adventure unlike any other in the archives of Sherlock Holmes."
There you have it :D The first Sherlock Holmes pastiche review on the blog. I seriously think anyone should read it though - it's a great book. Did I mention I read it in one day? *wink*
Monday, June 15, 2009
Sunday, June 7, 2009
The Adventure of the Gold-Engraved Box - Part 2
My time at Hyde Park was, I had believed, completely wasted. I arrived and located the elm which the note referred to and it's corresponding bench; but, finding the area void of all activity, I seated myself on the bench and began my observations. The fog had begun to lift, yet I noted nothing worthy of reporting to my friend.
After a time I became quite bored. I decided to stroll on the path leading to the bench where I was seated, but before I could leave, a large, dark-haired fellow approached me. He seated himself opposite me, and began a casual conversation. I was glad for the distraction, seeming as my afternoon had been almost wasted by idleness, and we chatted as if we were old friends.
We talked for quite some time. He was very friendly, and inquired after my friends, including Sherlock Holmes. I kept the information about his current case to myself, however, thinking it was best for everyone involved.
After awhile I determined my time would be better spent at Baker Street, and, upon bidding my new friend farewell, I left him situated on the bench. By then the fog had gone, and the return trip went speedily.
At Baker Street, I found the sitting room empty. I called for Holmes, but determined he was still out. I went to my writing desk and began a new chapter of the narrative that had been consuming so much of my time.
Mrs. Hudson entered the room with my supper a few hours later. I thanked her heartily and began eating. On her way out, she gave a start as a man pushed past her and entered the room.
"Is Mr. Sherlock Holmes in?" he inquired.
"Not at the moment," I answered. "He is expected back at any time, however," I added, offering to take his coat while he waited.
The man chuckled and twirled his dark moustache between his fingers. "No, thank you, Watson. I will remove it myself, and return it to the trunk in my bedroom."
I began to laugh. "Yet another clever disguise, Holmes."
Holmes smiled. "Mrs. Hudson, please bring my dinner up," he said, as he stepped into his bedroom and closed the door.
A few moments later he emerged in his dressing gown, holding a small, gold-engraved box. The top and bottom appeared to be made of solid gold gold. Each of the four sides had two large and intricately engraved roses, and many long vines and leaves wrapped around the edges. Seating himself in his arm chair, Holmes began a thorough examination of the box.
"Mrs. Hudson's box!" I exclaimed. "However did you find it?"
"It was not easy. It had been sold three times after the pawn shop." My friend's eyes never left the little box.
"But how did you acquire the information as to where it was?" I asked. "Tradesman do not give out clients information to just anyone."
Holmes chuckled, raising his head to look at me. "I thought of that. I went in disguise, as you know. I hoped to give the impression that I was the original owner of the box and wished to retrieve it. The clerk believed my little act, and after some persuasion, gave me all of the information about it and the woman who bought it."
Mrs. Hudson entered the room with Holmes' dinner. The glint of the gold box caught her eye. She stared at it for a few minutes before leaving, never once emitting a sound.
"I do believe she is rather annoyed with the whole business," I stated, as Holmes moved to the table and began his supper. I seated myself in the chair opposite my friend.
Holmes nodded. "Yes, and I hope to clear up the situation as quickly as possible. Now, what of your time at Hyde Park?"
I began my description of the place at the park where I had spent my morning. I announced that I had noted nothing worthy of his attentions; all the while he acted uninterested. Deciding to keep nothing to myself, I began to describe the friendly man with whom I had talked. This caught his attention, however, and he became alert and stopped eating abruptly.
"His name?"
I was taken aback by the question. I tried to think back to the conversation, but could not recall him ever telling me his name. "I don't believe he told me," I admitted.
Holmes shook his head. "You say he had a dark moustache and hair?"
I nodded, puzzled. What was it about the stranger that had sparked his curiousity?
"And he was large?"
"Very muscular. Tall, as well," I replied.
Holmes' face had turned grave during this conversation. I became worried as he pushed back his half-eaten dinner.
"This situation grows more and more serious," said he.
I could get no more of him for another hour. He sat in his chair, smoking his pipe and examining the box by turning it over and over. It was very quiet, so I found a book and settled in my own chair.
"Watson."
I looked up from my book. "Yes, Holmes?"
After a slight pause, he replied, "Tell Mrs. Hudson to be sure all door and windows are locked and the blinds drawn."
I was sure she had always done this, but did as he said. Mrs. Hudson was eagerly awaiting developments, but, seeming as my friend had disclosed no information, I had nothing to give.
Returning to our rooms I found Holmes, bent over the box once more. He was running his long fingers over the engravings. I closed the door quietly, so as not to disturb his examination.
"It is the flowers, Watson," he said.
"The flowers?" I went to my friend's chair.
He pointed out the delicate little flower on the left side of the panel he had been examining, then turned it over and did the same on the next panel. They were exactly the same, whereas the flowers on the right were all different. He then began to push gently on each tiny petal.
I watched him work for some time in silence, and had finally resolved to taking up my book when Holmes gave a shout.
"Halloa! I've got it, Watson!"
Like an excited child Holmes pushed in one of the tiny petals on the bottom of the first rose. He turned the box and repeated the gesture, this time on the top of the rose. On the last rose the box made a clicking sound, and Holmes raised the lid.
Inside the lid was another sort of lock, comprised of three different-sized key holes and a combonation lock. Holmes gave a frustrated sigh and set the box aside.
"I do believe a visit to the Baylors of Derbyshire is in order for to-morrow," he stated, leaning back in his chair and running his hand through his dark hair.
"What of Mrs. Hudson? Do you believe there is any danger in leaving her behind, if the man at Hyde Park is behind this?" I asked.
Holmes shook his head. "I'll be going alone. You will stay behind and keep Mrs. Hudson in the flat." He reached for his pipe again. "However, I do not believe your man is the only one behind this. No, it is much deeper than that." Lighting his pipe, he added, "He is only one small thread of the web..."
At this I heard no more; the phrase was all too familiar. "You suspect Moriarty?"
Holmes closed his eyes and drew a deep breath through his pipe. "I suspect no one."
He smoked for some time in silence, his eyes half shut. No matter how hard I pressed him, he would not talk. I bade him good night with no answer, and retired to my room for the night.
Morning came soon enough, and by the time I emerged from my room Holmes had already gone. I was relieved to find Mrs. Hudson in good spirits when she arrived with breakfast.
"Any news?" She inquired cheerfully.
I shook my head. "Holmes opened the box only to discover another lock," I explained. Not wanting to disclose any more information without his permission, I promptly began to eat.
"Do keep me informed, Doctor," the landlady said before leaving.
I spent the morning tidying my room, and as I worked I tried to contrive a plan to keep the landlady indoors all day. I finally resolved to having Billy run all the errands, and when I dispatched him with his new orders, Mrs. Hudson appeared at the bottom of the stairs. She rushed up to me, looking slightly pale.
"Is Mr. Holmes in yet?" She asked nervously. She held a small paper between her thumb and forefinger.
"No, I'm afraid not," I answered. "What is bothering you?"
She held up the paper. "I've recieved another note," she said, turning it over to me. It read:
If orders are not followed in twenty-four hours, BEWARE.
I cast a surprised glance at the landlady, who appeared very worried. "I don't believe that silly little box is worth such threats!" She exclaimed, her voice full of anxiety.
"I will give it to Holmes when he returns," I said, placing my hand on her shoulder. She patted it gently.
"Very good, Doctor. I must go back to my duties."
Sherlock Holmes returned shortly after the incident. He had not been gone very long. I went out to greet him. He appeared to be quite annoyed.
Upon my inquiry of the trip, he closed his eyes. "Miss Baylor, the daughter, will be arriving at six 'o clock this evening upon my request."
"Was she not at home?"
Holmes shook his head. "I thought of sending a telegram but assumed it would not reach the Baylor household until this morning. By then it would have been too late; I would have already reached the house. They live out in the country." He removed his coat and hat and shuffled to his armchair. "I trust you have not let Mrs. Hudson from the flat?"
I told him of my plan to have Billy perform all tasks outside of the flat, and he smiled. "I knew you would think of something."
I smiled at the praise and remembered the note. Handing it over to him, I watched him read it. "I assumed it would come to this," he said quietly. "We must keep Mrs. Hudson within our sight at all times." He said nothing more about the matter, however, and settled in his chair, taking up the little box. He pulled out a few strange-looking tools that I did not recognize and set at once to picking the locks under the lid.
Holmes worked at this for little more than a quarter of an hour before he set the box aside, his task completed. All that was left was the combonation lock. When I inquired as to how he would set about discovering the combonation, he smiled.
"Hopefully Miss Baylor will bring the answer with her when she arrives." He pulled his pipe off the mantle and lit it, and smoked in silence for the rest of the afternoon.
After a time I became quite bored. I decided to stroll on the path leading to the bench where I was seated, but before I could leave, a large, dark-haired fellow approached me. He seated himself opposite me, and began a casual conversation. I was glad for the distraction, seeming as my afternoon had been almost wasted by idleness, and we chatted as if we were old friends.
We talked for quite some time. He was very friendly, and inquired after my friends, including Sherlock Holmes. I kept the information about his current case to myself, however, thinking it was best for everyone involved.
After awhile I determined my time would be better spent at Baker Street, and, upon bidding my new friend farewell, I left him situated on the bench. By then the fog had gone, and the return trip went speedily.
At Baker Street, I found the sitting room empty. I called for Holmes, but determined he was still out. I went to my writing desk and began a new chapter of the narrative that had been consuming so much of my time.
Mrs. Hudson entered the room with my supper a few hours later. I thanked her heartily and began eating. On her way out, she gave a start as a man pushed past her and entered the room.
"Is Mr. Sherlock Holmes in?" he inquired.
"Not at the moment," I answered. "He is expected back at any time, however," I added, offering to take his coat while he waited.
The man chuckled and twirled his dark moustache between his fingers. "No, thank you, Watson. I will remove it myself, and return it to the trunk in my bedroom."
I began to laugh. "Yet another clever disguise, Holmes."
Holmes smiled. "Mrs. Hudson, please bring my dinner up," he said, as he stepped into his bedroom and closed the door.
A few moments later he emerged in his dressing gown, holding a small, gold-engraved box. The top and bottom appeared to be made of solid gold gold. Each of the four sides had two large and intricately engraved roses, and many long vines and leaves wrapped around the edges. Seating himself in his arm chair, Holmes began a thorough examination of the box.
"Mrs. Hudson's box!" I exclaimed. "However did you find it?"
"It was not easy. It had been sold three times after the pawn shop." My friend's eyes never left the little box.
"But how did you acquire the information as to where it was?" I asked. "Tradesman do not give out clients information to just anyone."
Holmes chuckled, raising his head to look at me. "I thought of that. I went in disguise, as you know. I hoped to give the impression that I was the original owner of the box and wished to retrieve it. The clerk believed my little act, and after some persuasion, gave me all of the information about it and the woman who bought it."
Mrs. Hudson entered the room with Holmes' dinner. The glint of the gold box caught her eye. She stared at it for a few minutes before leaving, never once emitting a sound.
"I do believe she is rather annoyed with the whole business," I stated, as Holmes moved to the table and began his supper. I seated myself in the chair opposite my friend.
Holmes nodded. "Yes, and I hope to clear up the situation as quickly as possible. Now, what of your time at Hyde Park?"
I began my description of the place at the park where I had spent my morning. I announced that I had noted nothing worthy of his attentions; all the while he acted uninterested. Deciding to keep nothing to myself, I began to describe the friendly man with whom I had talked. This caught his attention, however, and he became alert and stopped eating abruptly.
"His name?"
I was taken aback by the question. I tried to think back to the conversation, but could not recall him ever telling me his name. "I don't believe he told me," I admitted.
Holmes shook his head. "You say he had a dark moustache and hair?"
I nodded, puzzled. What was it about the stranger that had sparked his curiousity?
"And he was large?"
"Very muscular. Tall, as well," I replied.
Holmes' face had turned grave during this conversation. I became worried as he pushed back his half-eaten dinner.
"This situation grows more and more serious," said he.
I could get no more of him for another hour. He sat in his chair, smoking his pipe and examining the box by turning it over and over. It was very quiet, so I found a book and settled in my own chair.
"Watson."
I looked up from my book. "Yes, Holmes?"
After a slight pause, he replied, "Tell Mrs. Hudson to be sure all door and windows are locked and the blinds drawn."
I was sure she had always done this, but did as he said. Mrs. Hudson was eagerly awaiting developments, but, seeming as my friend had disclosed no information, I had nothing to give.
Returning to our rooms I found Holmes, bent over the box once more. He was running his long fingers over the engravings. I closed the door quietly, so as not to disturb his examination.
"It is the flowers, Watson," he said.
"The flowers?" I went to my friend's chair.
He pointed out the delicate little flower on the left side of the panel he had been examining, then turned it over and did the same on the next panel. They were exactly the same, whereas the flowers on the right were all different. He then began to push gently on each tiny petal.
I watched him work for some time in silence, and had finally resolved to taking up my book when Holmes gave a shout.
"Halloa! I've got it, Watson!"
Like an excited child Holmes pushed in one of the tiny petals on the bottom of the first rose. He turned the box and repeated the gesture, this time on the top of the rose. On the last rose the box made a clicking sound, and Holmes raised the lid.
Inside the lid was another sort of lock, comprised of three different-sized key holes and a combonation lock. Holmes gave a frustrated sigh and set the box aside.
"I do believe a visit to the Baylors of Derbyshire is in order for to-morrow," he stated, leaning back in his chair and running his hand through his dark hair.
"What of Mrs. Hudson? Do you believe there is any danger in leaving her behind, if the man at Hyde Park is behind this?" I asked.
Holmes shook his head. "I'll be going alone. You will stay behind and keep Mrs. Hudson in the flat." He reached for his pipe again. "However, I do not believe your man is the only one behind this. No, it is much deeper than that." Lighting his pipe, he added, "He is only one small thread of the web..."
At this I heard no more; the phrase was all too familiar. "You suspect Moriarty?"
Holmes closed his eyes and drew a deep breath through his pipe. "I suspect no one."
He smoked for some time in silence, his eyes half shut. No matter how hard I pressed him, he would not talk. I bade him good night with no answer, and retired to my room for the night.
Morning came soon enough, and by the time I emerged from my room Holmes had already gone. I was relieved to find Mrs. Hudson in good spirits when she arrived with breakfast.
"Any news?" She inquired cheerfully.
I shook my head. "Holmes opened the box only to discover another lock," I explained. Not wanting to disclose any more information without his permission, I promptly began to eat.
"Do keep me informed, Doctor," the landlady said before leaving.
I spent the morning tidying my room, and as I worked I tried to contrive a plan to keep the landlady indoors all day. I finally resolved to having Billy run all the errands, and when I dispatched him with his new orders, Mrs. Hudson appeared at the bottom of the stairs. She rushed up to me, looking slightly pale.
"Is Mr. Holmes in yet?" She asked nervously. She held a small paper between her thumb and forefinger.
"No, I'm afraid not," I answered. "What is bothering you?"
She held up the paper. "I've recieved another note," she said, turning it over to me. It read:
If orders are not followed in twenty-four hours, BEWARE.
I cast a surprised glance at the landlady, who appeared very worried. "I don't believe that silly little box is worth such threats!" She exclaimed, her voice full of anxiety.
"I will give it to Holmes when he returns," I said, placing my hand on her shoulder. She patted it gently.
"Very good, Doctor. I must go back to my duties."
Sherlock Holmes returned shortly after the incident. He had not been gone very long. I went out to greet him. He appeared to be quite annoyed.
Upon my inquiry of the trip, he closed his eyes. "Miss Baylor, the daughter, will be arriving at six 'o clock this evening upon my request."
"Was she not at home?"
Holmes shook his head. "I thought of sending a telegram but assumed it would not reach the Baylor household until this morning. By then it would have been too late; I would have already reached the house. They live out in the country." He removed his coat and hat and shuffled to his armchair. "I trust you have not let Mrs. Hudson from the flat?"
I told him of my plan to have Billy perform all tasks outside of the flat, and he smiled. "I knew you would think of something."
I smiled at the praise and remembered the note. Handing it over to him, I watched him read it. "I assumed it would come to this," he said quietly. "We must keep Mrs. Hudson within our sight at all times." He said nothing more about the matter, however, and settled in his chair, taking up the little box. He pulled out a few strange-looking tools that I did not recognize and set at once to picking the locks under the lid.
Holmes worked at this for little more than a quarter of an hour before he set the box aside, his task completed. All that was left was the combonation lock. When I inquired as to how he would set about discovering the combonation, he smiled.
"Hopefully Miss Baylor will bring the answer with her when she arrives." He pulled his pipe off the mantle and lit it, and smoked in silence for the rest of the afternoon.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Holmes' Colossal Adjectives
One of the things that I love about Sherlock Holmes (and Watson too...this also pertains to him) is his use of really big adjectives.
I'm not going to blog forever about it but I found this quote in one of the books the other day and just started laughing...it was just like Holmes to use such big words to modify a tiny one...I thought I would share, just for the fun of it in case none of you had noticed it before.
"A lie, Watson - a great, big, thumping, obtrusive, uncompromising lie..."
- The Valley of Fear
Isn't that awesome? I love how they just continue to get bigger...that's the beauty of Victorian London (and possibly modern London...I dunno, Grace, do Londoners today use massive adjectives? lol)
I don't know how he managed to say that all in one breath. I can't even say that without putting the "un" from "uncompromising" in front of the "obtrusive." *laughs*
Hope you had a good laugh over that one :D
(picture - Of course, it's Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes...hot on the trail of a criminal, most likely. Love the hat :D)
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