I think of
Sherlock Holmes every time I try to do major house-cleaning.
I can’t help it,
he’s just in my way. Once you’ve been a fan of Sherlock Holmes for a very long
time, he tends to do that. And I don’t mean because he’s distracting you from
getting your work done. No, Sherlock Holmes is, quite literally, in the way.
You see, when I
was about thirty or twenty or even fifteen years younger than today, I thought
that everything that had anything to do with Sherlock Holmes was cool. That’s
the love of a fan for you, we don’t discriminate. Plastic Garfield in a
deerstalker, holding a magnifying glass? Cool. A paperback book where Sherlock
Holmes explains how insurance works? Cool. A Bantam edition of The Hound of the Baskervilles with a
different piece of art on the cover? Cool.
And it begins to
pile up. Once the collecting bug is on you, if you can’t find Sherlock, you’ll
find things two degrees away from Sherlock. Christopher Morley started the
Baker Street Irregulars, thus anything he wrote is cool, right? And if I like
Sherlock Holmes, I have to like everything about Conan Doyle, that should go
without saying. And on and on it goes, and over the decades a collection
builds. And starts to get in the way.
At some point, you
start to realize that you have accumulated a lot of things you really don’t
find that cool any more. Still blogging on Sherlock, Holmes tales still a core mythology of
my inner life, but who the hell ever needed a plastic Garfield in a
deerstalker? Seriously. Unless you’re planning on putting on pop culture
exhibits, which I’m not, there’s not really a point to half the Sherlock stuff
I now find filling my house.
And here’s the
real problem: you can’t just put Sherlock stuff in a garage sale or donate the
books to a book sale. You’re haunted by the thought that somebody out there,
somewhere, might be as keen on it as you once were, so you can’t just disperse
it to the winds. Holmes events where one might throw up a dealer’s table
don’t come along every day, especially here in the heartland. And, trust me,
this stuff does not sell on eBay.
So take this as a warning, current and future collectors
of the Sherlock. Be a little bit choosey in what you pick to bring home.
Acquire what has true meaning to you, is part of your master plan, and is not
just a moment’s fancy, a sudden surge of Holmes pride. So that one day, when
you’re cleaning your house, you are dusting and caring for objects of pride and
value . . . and not damned Garfield the cat.
Oh, oh. I must in real trouble. My house has started sinking due to all of the superfulous Sherlockana I have inside of it.
ReplyDeleteIsn't that what the University of Minnesota's Sherlock Holmes Collections is for? Your detritus.
ReplyDeleteI wonder how - 2 1/2 years after posting this - this situation panned out. I'm in a similar state: years ago I boxed up all the tacky, vaguely SH-related tchotchkes, ugly reprints, awful pastiches, multiple duplicates, clippings, etc., but I can't bring myself to cart it all to the Salvation Army, six blocks away. I still hold out hope that I'll find somebody who really - passionately - wants that Snoopy-wearing-a-deerstalker eraser, the Sherlock Hemlock finger-puppet, the grubby paperback novelization of "Sherlock Holmes' Smarter Brother"... Help me.
ReplyDeleteLook for a full reply in a new blog post tonight! Thanks for asking!
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