Viewing lines from the Sherlockian Canon in isolation is always a marvelous thought experiment, and nothing isolates lines from the text like Twitter. This morning Scott Monty dropped this classic quote from "The Adventure of the Red Circle:"
"Education never ends, Watson. It is a series of lessons with the greatest for last."
In a pawky mood of the moment, I replied with "Always sounds grander if you don't think of the last lesson as 'Whoops! Shouldn't have done that!'" But once I was set on the course of actually thinking about that line, I couldn't stop. I mean, we usually assume he means "insert your afterlife here" and take that as the greatest lesson. But is the afterlife necessarily a lesson?
My mind immediately shot to that scene from the South Park series where the director of Hell was explaining to the new arrivals, "I'm afraid it was the Mormons Yes, Mormons were the correct answer." So in the South Park universe, the last lesson for most was that you should have been a member of the Church of Latter Day Saints. But for Sherlock Holmes?
The emphasis of the quote is really on life-long learning, and not what comes after, but it does reveal something of Holmes. I like to think of "Red Circle" as occurring on Sherlock Holmes's birthday due to his other actions in the case but that line sounds like the sort of birthday contemplation one might have as the years pass and one feels mortality's full weight.
We know that Watson's literary agent, Conan Doyle, was heavily concerned with matters of the afterlife, so he would have seen death as a doorway to an existence he was very curious about. Sherlock Holmes, on the other hand? When you think about his work, and all of the death scenes he got to have a look at, Sherlock Holmes's final questions might have taken a different tack.
What did death feel like? How did the murder victim look upon his killer in those last moments? Was there an awareness, an ability to observe that which the eye did not normally see? Thinking about how much focus Sherlock Holmes put upon his profession and how he seemed to apply all lessons he learned in life toward that art of detection, might he not have see some detective purpose in in that final act?
"It is a series of lessons with the greatest for last." In Holmes's mind, we are going to learn something in passing, something greater than everything we have learned before . . . and, apparently, were to learn after. The last lesson would have to be the one where a person gained all knowledge, so no further lessons are necessary . . . plainly the greatest lesson, gaining all knowledge.
There's a concept I always like to play with that I call "God's library," where books and publications exist that contain all the unknowable facts. Want the actual statistics on how many toilet paper rolls in private homes are installed with the paper coming over the top of the roll versus under the bottom? With graphs by month and year since the invention of toilet paper? It would be there. Roger Ebert reviews of every movie ever, even the ones he never saw? It would be there. Tasteful nudes of all your high school teachers painted by Tiziano Vecello (or "Titian" as the English like to call him)? That would be there, too. A mind palace greater than the universe itself, containing all that is or ever could be . . . that would be the dream of a man like Sherlock Holmes. Maybe even his heaven, unless you consider the dark side of all knowledge. (Maybe your high school teachers didn't look as good as some of mine.)
Perhaps we should all just concentrate on the series of lessons that Holmes was really emphasizing with that quote and let the greatest one just come when it does . . . but now and then, you just have to wonder about it, as with everything Sherlock.
Which is part of what makes this such a great hobby. So many lessons.
The ongoing investigation of Sherlock Holmes, reported from the Peoria, Illinois outpost of Baker Street's dirtiest half a dozen.
Monday, August 20, 2018
Sunday, August 19, 2018
Sylvnado? Sylvius Week? Sylvius Tank?
As I'm finally getting around to seeing The Meg today, as a new Sharknado film premieres on the SyFy network this evening, it seemed time to discuss the greatest shark of the Sherlockian Canon.
If you go by the gazetteer that Sherlock Holmes pulled down from the shelf in The Sign of the Four, you'd have to go to the Andaman Islands to find an actual shark in Holmes-world. But London was not without its human sharks, as with any metropolis, and foremost among them might seem to have been Moriarty, of course. But Holmes only used that parallel to explain Porlock's relationship to Moriarty, in The Valley of Fear, also citing the lion and the jackal.
The real shark of the Sherlockian Canon, the man whom Holmes can't help but compare to that killer of the sea a full four times in one short story, is the man they call Count Negretto Sylvius.
They call him "Count Negretto Sylvius," of course, because he seems a lot like Colonel Sebastian Moran with a pseudonym. And like Moran, he's a killer that Sherlock Holmes actually appears to be afraid of. In Moran's case, Holmes seemed to stay away from London for years to avoid the Colonel's vengeance. In the matter of Silvius, Holmes is just giving Watson the Count's address so the good doctor can send the police there should Holmes get killed by Silvius . . . a route Holmes takes on no other occasion.
If Sylvius and Moran are truly one in the same, which seems likely as they look alike, share the same talents, and seem to have the same habits, this opens up several possibilities. Did Holmes encounter Moran once when the Colonel was running a scheme under a false identity, prior to seeing the whole Moriartian big picture? Or was the name change a sign that the anonymous third-person writer of "The Mazarin Stone" still felt a great fear of Moran, even decades later? (And who was in a position to both write that tale and be very afraid of the very thought of Moran so long after? Billy the page, definitely.)
It's hard to imagine that the police grabbing Silvius/Moran at the climax of "The Mazarin Stone" went off in as civilized a manner as that recounting seems to tell, and one has to wonder if "Silvius" escaped to vex Holmes another day in another country, then returned to London when it was clear Holmes was wandering. His capture at the climax of "The Empty House" seems much more appropriate for the killer shark Holmes knew him to be.
Whoever "Count Negretto Sylvius" actually was, he was definitely the one true shark in Sherlock Holmes's rogues gallery. And one worthy of his own Asylum Films movie with Sherlock as well.
"I rather want to see my shark without his seeing me . . ."
If you go by the gazetteer that Sherlock Holmes pulled down from the shelf in The Sign of the Four, you'd have to go to the Andaman Islands to find an actual shark in Holmes-world. But London was not without its human sharks, as with any metropolis, and foremost among them might seem to have been Moriarty, of course. But Holmes only used that parallel to explain Porlock's relationship to Moriarty, in The Valley of Fear, also citing the lion and the jackal.
The real shark of the Sherlockian Canon, the man whom Holmes can't help but compare to that killer of the sea a full four times in one short story, is the man they call Count Negretto Sylvius.
They call him "Count Negretto Sylvius," of course, because he seems a lot like Colonel Sebastian Moran with a pseudonym. And like Moran, he's a killer that Sherlock Holmes actually appears to be afraid of. In Moran's case, Holmes seemed to stay away from London for years to avoid the Colonel's vengeance. In the matter of Silvius, Holmes is just giving Watson the Count's address so the good doctor can send the police there should Holmes get killed by Silvius . . . a route Holmes takes on no other occasion.
If Sylvius and Moran are truly one in the same, which seems likely as they look alike, share the same talents, and seem to have the same habits, this opens up several possibilities. Did Holmes encounter Moran once when the Colonel was running a scheme under a false identity, prior to seeing the whole Moriartian big picture? Or was the name change a sign that the anonymous third-person writer of "The Mazarin Stone" still felt a great fear of Moran, even decades later? (And who was in a position to both write that tale and be very afraid of the very thought of Moran so long after? Billy the page, definitely.)
It's hard to imagine that the police grabbing Silvius/Moran at the climax of "The Mazarin Stone" went off in as civilized a manner as that recounting seems to tell, and one has to wonder if "Silvius" escaped to vex Holmes another day in another country, then returned to London when it was clear Holmes was wandering. His capture at the climax of "The Empty House" seems much more appropriate for the killer shark Holmes knew him to be.
Whoever "Count Negretto Sylvius" actually was, he was definitely the one true shark in Sherlock Holmes's rogues gallery. And one worthy of his own Asylum Films movie with Sherlock as well.
"I rather want to see my shark without his seeing me . . ."
-- Wise words from Sherlock Holmes
Saturday, August 18, 2018
Using the Press.
"The Press, Watson, is a most valuable institution, if you only know how to use it," Sherlock Holmes advised in "The Adventure of the Six Napoleons."
We like to throw quotes around whenever the topic is relevant, here in Sherlock-land. Most times, the spirit of the quoting is a simple, "Hey! Sherlock said something about this topic!" Sometimes, Sherlock's words are to the point regarding the matter at hand. And then sometimes . . . well, sometimes they bear a little more consideration. Which is the case with the quote above.
The context for that line is definitely worth considering, given current trends. Sherlock Holmes spoke those words after delighting in the fact that a newspaper reported that he and Lestrade were in complete agreement that a crime was surely committed by a crazy person, because there was no other sense to it. Which wasn't true.
Sherlock Holmes purposefully let the reporter involved in the case have the wrong facts. And then delights in "using" the Press.
It's a time-honored tradition in police and detective fiction, letting the newspapers print something false in order to lure the criminals into a false sense of security. And it's really just an expansion of Sherlock Holmes not telling his friend Watson everything he's thinking about a case until he is certain of every detail . . . only this time, instead of just not telling Watson, he didn't tell a newspaper reporter.
Yet the line doesn't ring as happily virtuous in a day when both the corrupt and foolish are obviously lying to the press at every turn, just to keep their fan clubs happy. "Using" the Press . . . or whatever social media outlet communicates with a mass audience most effectively . . . has become a troubling hobby for trolls of all levels. The Press is a valuable institution -- that is a fact that even its current foes must privately acknowledge, or else they wouldn't be so dead-set on knocking down the segments of it they don't like.
The second part of Holmes's statement, "if you know how to use it," is not just a statement about the technique of using the Press. It also has an implied, unstated meaning . . . that Sherlock Holmes was using it in the good work of the detective in revealing the final truth of the matter at hand. Any weapon or tool doesn't just demand knowledge of how it works. It calls upon us to know what it's real purpose is.
You can hit people on the head with a wrench all day long, but head-smacking isn't what gives the wrench its greatest value. No, that is for the tightening of screwed objects. (No jokes about how we are almost all "screwed objects" these days.) And when Sherlock Holmes said "The Press, Watson, is a valuable institution," he was speaking of its proper purposes as well.
A good many Press outlets were making a public case for their importance to society this week, something that should be a real no-brainer. And yet, apparently, the example of a brain like Sherlock Holmes is something we still need in America.
And giving his words a full consideration now and then is a valuable institution as well.
We like to throw quotes around whenever the topic is relevant, here in Sherlock-land. Most times, the spirit of the quoting is a simple, "Hey! Sherlock said something about this topic!" Sometimes, Sherlock's words are to the point regarding the matter at hand. And then sometimes . . . well, sometimes they bear a little more consideration. Which is the case with the quote above.
The context for that line is definitely worth considering, given current trends. Sherlock Holmes spoke those words after delighting in the fact that a newspaper reported that he and Lestrade were in complete agreement that a crime was surely committed by a crazy person, because there was no other sense to it. Which wasn't true.
Sherlock Holmes purposefully let the reporter involved in the case have the wrong facts. And then delights in "using" the Press.
It's a time-honored tradition in police and detective fiction, letting the newspapers print something false in order to lure the criminals into a false sense of security. And it's really just an expansion of Sherlock Holmes not telling his friend Watson everything he's thinking about a case until he is certain of every detail . . . only this time, instead of just not telling Watson, he didn't tell a newspaper reporter.
Yet the line doesn't ring as happily virtuous in a day when both the corrupt and foolish are obviously lying to the press at every turn, just to keep their fan clubs happy. "Using" the Press . . . or whatever social media outlet communicates with a mass audience most effectively . . . has become a troubling hobby for trolls of all levels. The Press is a valuable institution -- that is a fact that even its current foes must privately acknowledge, or else they wouldn't be so dead-set on knocking down the segments of it they don't like.
The second part of Holmes's statement, "if you know how to use it," is not just a statement about the technique of using the Press. It also has an implied, unstated meaning . . . that Sherlock Holmes was using it in the good work of the detective in revealing the final truth of the matter at hand. Any weapon or tool doesn't just demand knowledge of how it works. It calls upon us to know what it's real purpose is.
You can hit people on the head with a wrench all day long, but head-smacking isn't what gives the wrench its greatest value. No, that is for the tightening of screwed objects. (No jokes about how we are almost all "screwed objects" these days.) And when Sherlock Holmes said "The Press, Watson, is a valuable institution," he was speaking of its proper purposes as well.
A good many Press outlets were making a public case for their importance to society this week, something that should be a real no-brainer. And yet, apparently, the example of a brain like Sherlock Holmes is something we still need in America.
And giving his words a full consideration now and then is a valuable institution as well.
Thursday, August 16, 2018
A rare Sherlockianly satiated state.
There have been moments, in writing a Sherlockian blog, when no topics would come to mind.
And there have been times when so much other Sherlockian writing is going on that the blog gets a back seat and nothing gets written for a while.
This week, however, is the rare convergence of a Sherlockianly satisfied fullness, following the "Holmes in Heartland" weekend, with a deluge of non-Sherlockian occupations. Work projects, a family wedding, a big game expansion release . . . the sort of week when days can go by without a thought of Sherlock Holmes, even sitting in a room filled with books and iconograpy of the man himself.
Yes, there are always times when non-Sherlockian life gets in the way . . . but this week?
This week, all the creative output from the week before combined with all the friends seen over the last week, whatever normal inner urges that drive Sherlockian output, whether they be duty, narcissism, need for connection, or the pure love of Sherlock Holmes . . . all those urges find themselves in a rare satiated state.
Which is bad, because I still want to finish the John H. Watson Society Treasure Hunt, and the winners are already starting to cross the finish line for that event.
So, for the moment, I find myself obnoxiously blogging about just being satisfied with the Sherlock Holmes part of my life. Except for that one thing. But that's how the cravings always start again, with just the one thing.
Somehow, I doubt that this state will last very long.
And there have been times when so much other Sherlockian writing is going on that the blog gets a back seat and nothing gets written for a while.
This week, however, is the rare convergence of a Sherlockianly satisfied fullness, following the "Holmes in Heartland" weekend, with a deluge of non-Sherlockian occupations. Work projects, a family wedding, a big game expansion release . . . the sort of week when days can go by without a thought of Sherlock Holmes, even sitting in a room filled with books and iconograpy of the man himself.
Yes, there are always times when non-Sherlockian life gets in the way . . . but this week?
This week, all the creative output from the week before combined with all the friends seen over the last week, whatever normal inner urges that drive Sherlockian output, whether they be duty, narcissism, need for connection, or the pure love of Sherlock Holmes . . . all those urges find themselves in a rare satiated state.
Which is bad, because I still want to finish the John H. Watson Society Treasure Hunt, and the winners are already starting to cross the finish line for that event.
So, for the moment, I find myself obnoxiously blogging about just being satisfied with the Sherlock Holmes part of my life. Except for that one thing. But that's how the cravings always start again, with just the one thing.
Somehow, I doubt that this state will last very long.
Monday, August 13, 2018
Those great Sherlockian friendships
This weekend, "Holmes in the Heartland" brought a curious mix of pleasure and regret when it came to my interactions with other Sherlockians. But it demonstrated something to me that I also think was rather illuminating.
The pleasure: Getting to see some long-time friends and remarkable folk again, whom I hadn't seen in a while.
The regret: Not getting to talk more to some of the remarkable newer friends and fresh acquaintances that were at the event.
A much-beloved old friend has the gravity of a planet . . . you can't help but be pulled into their orbit, and you tend to stay there. This happens time and again, and even just one especially good friend, as happened to me at a Vegas convention once in non-Sherlockian life, can make you miss dozens of opportunities to chat up new acquaintances. It's a fine and happy thing while going on, but as things come to a close, I wind up going "Hey, wait a minute . . ." and realizing what I've missed.
But that's life, you can't do everything. Choices always have to be made, and few choices come without a regret or two.
What I realized this weekend though was a commonality about the best Sherlockian friends I have. And if you've wandered the Sherlockian world and made a few fast friends, you may have noticed it too. And that commonality is this: The best Sherlockian friends you'll ever have are those that travel well.
Think about this for a moment. What is one of the best measures of how good a friend someone is?
To me, it has always been "Can I go on an extended trip with this person?" If you can happily spend the long hours that travel involves with someone, if they don't irritate you or make you want to hide after days of traveling together, you've got a great friend there. And who do you find at Sherlockian weekends that aren't in the town where they live?
Sherlockians who travel well.
Sherlockian weekends have always been where I've met a goodly share of the greatest people I've ever known, and the people you meet at those weekends, again and again, are the same gypsy roadshow of Sherlockians who like to get to everything and are always looking to that next big event. The travelers of Sherlockiana. The ones who are comfortable almost anywhere and with the greatest variety of people. And those folks make some really great friends to have.
Still, I'm not saying those who don't travel as much can't be great people. Lord knows I travel a lot less than some. And fresh faces have to start somewhere. Like I said, I really hated not getting to talk as much to everyone I wanted to chat with in St. Louis this weekend -- some really bright lights down there. But I had this really good excuse . . . so I hope they'll forgive me.
So that was one of my takeaways from this weekend. The best friends are ones you can travel with, and Sherlockian events will bring you great travelers to be friends with.
The world just makes sense sometimes, if you let it.
The pleasure: Getting to see some long-time friends and remarkable folk again, whom I hadn't seen in a while.
The regret: Not getting to talk more to some of the remarkable newer friends and fresh acquaintances that were at the event.
A much-beloved old friend has the gravity of a planet . . . you can't help but be pulled into their orbit, and you tend to stay there. This happens time and again, and even just one especially good friend, as happened to me at a Vegas convention once in non-Sherlockian life, can make you miss dozens of opportunities to chat up new acquaintances. It's a fine and happy thing while going on, but as things come to a close, I wind up going "Hey, wait a minute . . ." and realizing what I've missed.
But that's life, you can't do everything. Choices always have to be made, and few choices come without a regret or two.
What I realized this weekend though was a commonality about the best Sherlockian friends I have. And if you've wandered the Sherlockian world and made a few fast friends, you may have noticed it too. And that commonality is this: The best Sherlockian friends you'll ever have are those that travel well.
Think about this for a moment. What is one of the best measures of how good a friend someone is?
To me, it has always been "Can I go on an extended trip with this person?" If you can happily spend the long hours that travel involves with someone, if they don't irritate you or make you want to hide after days of traveling together, you've got a great friend there. And who do you find at Sherlockian weekends that aren't in the town where they live?
Sherlockians who travel well.
Sherlockian weekends have always been where I've met a goodly share of the greatest people I've ever known, and the people you meet at those weekends, again and again, are the same gypsy roadshow of Sherlockians who like to get to everything and are always looking to that next big event. The travelers of Sherlockiana. The ones who are comfortable almost anywhere and with the greatest variety of people. And those folks make some really great friends to have.
Still, I'm not saying those who don't travel as much can't be great people. Lord knows I travel a lot less than some. And fresh faces have to start somewhere. Like I said, I really hated not getting to talk as much to everyone I wanted to chat with in St. Louis this weekend -- some really bright lights down there. But I had this really good excuse . . . so I hope they'll forgive me.
So that was one of my takeaways from this weekend. The best friends are ones you can travel with, and Sherlockian events will bring you great travelers to be friends with.
The world just makes sense sometimes, if you let it.
Sunday, August 12, 2018
That last part of Holmes in the Heartland
Sometimes you just wind up with six people in a car that seats five.
Ain't none of us teenagers any more, but when you need to get from point A to point B in a town that's notoriously short on parking, you do what you have to do. Which was why my car wound up filled past capacity with out-of-towners for the Saturday night banquet at "Holmes in the Heartland."
It was a little like driving a cocktail party around St. Louis, with multiple conversations, one of which always having to be "What's my next turn?" Eventually we wound up on "the Hill" and at Favazza's, where our cocktail party on wheels found the very last possible parking space in the very last possible parking area. Apparently this restaurant is quite popular on a Saturday night, we immediately acknowledged. The door to the banquet room, however, was the first door we came to, so we didn't get to view just how popular, going inside to see the familiar faces we'd seen all day.
Four kinds of appetizers brought 'round on trays and an open wine bar set the meal off to a good start, and the entrees were in enormous portions. The lasagna choice was about the size of two bricks laid side by side, but I tried to be a little bit healthier and went with the eggplant parm and cavatini (the latter of which I had already dived into when the pic below got taken. (Yes, it's the internet, so we must have food pics, for some reason.)
And, no, the salad course didn't come second, I just threw that in after the main for no good reason, other than it was a nice salad. Dinner was followed by a lemon Italian ice and an exotic cookie assortment, which was about right since we were already stuffed. And then the game was afoot!
Literally. We just started playing games. Sherlockian games. The success of this venture, I think, depended upon having at least one game enthusiast at your table, to guide and introduce the play a bit. Our table started with a Sherlockian adaptation of "One Night Werewolf" using cards I made up just that morning.
After a little initial unforeseen confusion (for the purposes of the game, Moriarty and Baron Gruner are not criminals . . . as they weren't, to the general public, when Holmes first encounters them), night fell upon London, nefarious things happened while the players had their eyes closed, and then deductions had to be made when everyone was "awake" once more. After trying to root out criminals who hadn't done their crimes at Moriarty's behest as yet, we converted to classic "Werewolf" or "Mafia" play and started letting the criminals kill a victim each night, and things didn't go so well for Holmes, Watson, Lestrade, or Mrs. Hudson after that.
Next we tried out "Moriarty's Web" for those who have never had that pleasure, and it was literally the shortest and most remarkable game I had ever seen. When we came to our Sherlock Holmes, he was actually about to connect all of the crimes to the clues, then Mrs. Hudson connected Moriarty to the crime/clue chain and GAME OVER!! It was amazing, and also, a happy result, as Don Hobbs was already trying to pickpocket my car keys to get himself back to the hotel at that point.
Some people just aren't gamers, but a lot were, and if Holmes at the Heartland is in a central hotel next year, rather than scattered options like this year, perhaps a Saturday night pizza and games night for those who are into those things, while the rest head out to a restaurant, might be a fun option. (Personally, I think the old banquet idea is a little played out. More on the "whys" of that in a future blog.)
But it was a fine evening over all, and I was happy when my mobile cocktail party was back in the hotel district and squeezing my car into the last tiny parking space there. Parking was the one constant issue during this whole event, and caused an ironic end to it all for this weekender.
When it came time to sign up for the tour of the Becker Medical Library and afternoon tea, the Sunday portion of the program, I took one look and went "A tour that starts at 9 A.M. on a Sunday? With me enjoying a leisurely hotel morning? No way!" But the parking issues at the Hotel Majestic were so vexing that I was in my car and leaving shortly after 6 AM, just to get my car out of parking purgatory. I wound up hitting Peoria at 9 AM . . . so maybe I could have made it up in time for that tour.
And then, I walked in the front door to find a full-grown bat flying circles in my living room.
DUN-DUN-DUHHHHHHHHN!!!
Holmes in the Heartland Postscript:
Okay, I really want to end on that cliffhanger, but it's not really fair. The good Carter was upstairs and blissfully unaware there was a bat in the house, so instead of a Ricky Ricardo "Honey, I'm home!" she got "THERE'S A BAT IN THE LIVING ROOM!" Her reaction? Dive back in the bedroom and close the door. After some initial failed attempts at netting the creature, just to get my blood pumping, I retreated back out to the car to don my beekeeper's suit and get serious about dealing with Count Dracula. Upon my return, however, he had fortuitously flown into the sun porch, which I quickly shut him it, then slipped in from an outside door, opened up all the outside doors, and waited for him to leave. Which it took him a while to do, as bats are just not smart. But he did, Carter emerged, the cat remained uninvolved . . . by sheerest chance . . . and all is now well.
All in all, a very memorable weekend. More words to come.
Ain't none of us teenagers any more, but when you need to get from point A to point B in a town that's notoriously short on parking, you do what you have to do. Which was why my car wound up filled past capacity with out-of-towners for the Saturday night banquet at "Holmes in the Heartland."
It was a little like driving a cocktail party around St. Louis, with multiple conversations, one of which always having to be "What's my next turn?" Eventually we wound up on "the Hill" and at Favazza's, where our cocktail party on wheels found the very last possible parking space in the very last possible parking area. Apparently this restaurant is quite popular on a Saturday night, we immediately acknowledged. The door to the banquet room, however, was the first door we came to, so we didn't get to view just how popular, going inside to see the familiar faces we'd seen all day.
Four kinds of appetizers brought 'round on trays and an open wine bar set the meal off to a good start, and the entrees were in enormous portions. The lasagna choice was about the size of two bricks laid side by side, but I tried to be a little bit healthier and went with the eggplant parm and cavatini (the latter of which I had already dived into when the pic below got taken. (Yes, it's the internet, so we must have food pics, for some reason.)
And, no, the salad course didn't come second, I just threw that in after the main for no good reason, other than it was a nice salad. Dinner was followed by a lemon Italian ice and an exotic cookie assortment, which was about right since we were already stuffed. And then the game was afoot!
Literally. We just started playing games. Sherlockian games. The success of this venture, I think, depended upon having at least one game enthusiast at your table, to guide and introduce the play a bit. Our table started with a Sherlockian adaptation of "One Night Werewolf" using cards I made up just that morning.
After a little initial unforeseen confusion (for the purposes of the game, Moriarty and Baron Gruner are not criminals . . . as they weren't, to the general public, when Holmes first encounters them), night fell upon London, nefarious things happened while the players had their eyes closed, and then deductions had to be made when everyone was "awake" once more. After trying to root out criminals who hadn't done their crimes at Moriarty's behest as yet, we converted to classic "Werewolf" or "Mafia" play and started letting the criminals kill a victim each night, and things didn't go so well for Holmes, Watson, Lestrade, or Mrs. Hudson after that.
Next we tried out "Moriarty's Web" for those who have never had that pleasure, and it was literally the shortest and most remarkable game I had ever seen. When we came to our Sherlock Holmes, he was actually about to connect all of the crimes to the clues, then Mrs. Hudson connected Moriarty to the crime/clue chain and GAME OVER!! It was amazing, and also, a happy result, as Don Hobbs was already trying to pickpocket my car keys to get himself back to the hotel at that point.
Some people just aren't gamers, but a lot were, and if Holmes at the Heartland is in a central hotel next year, rather than scattered options like this year, perhaps a Saturday night pizza and games night for those who are into those things, while the rest head out to a restaurant, might be a fun option. (Personally, I think the old banquet idea is a little played out. More on the "whys" of that in a future blog.)
But it was a fine evening over all, and I was happy when my mobile cocktail party was back in the hotel district and squeezing my car into the last tiny parking space there. Parking was the one constant issue during this whole event, and caused an ironic end to it all for this weekender.
When it came time to sign up for the tour of the Becker Medical Library and afternoon tea, the Sunday portion of the program, I took one look and went "A tour that starts at 9 A.M. on a Sunday? With me enjoying a leisurely hotel morning? No way!" But the parking issues at the Hotel Majestic were so vexing that I was in my car and leaving shortly after 6 AM, just to get my car out of parking purgatory. I wound up hitting Peoria at 9 AM . . . so maybe I could have made it up in time for that tour.
And then, I walked in the front door to find a full-grown bat flying circles in my living room.
DUN-DUN-DUHHHHHHHHN!!!
Holmes in the Heartland Postscript:
Okay, I really want to end on that cliffhanger, but it's not really fair. The good Carter was upstairs and blissfully unaware there was a bat in the house, so instead of a Ricky Ricardo "Honey, I'm home!" she got "THERE'S A BAT IN THE LIVING ROOM!" Her reaction? Dive back in the bedroom and close the door. After some initial failed attempts at netting the creature, just to get my blood pumping, I retreated back out to the car to don my beekeeper's suit and get serious about dealing with Count Dracula. Upon my return, however, he had fortuitously flown into the sun porch, which I quickly shut him it, then slipped in from an outside door, opened up all the outside doors, and waited for him to leave. Which it took him a while to do, as bats are just not smart. But he did, Carter emerged, the cat remained uninvolved . . . by sheerest chance . . . and all is now well.
All in all, a very memorable weekend. More words to come.
Saturday, August 11, 2018
Holmes in the Heartland day afternoon.
Well, if something was going to throw the posted schedule for Holmes in the Heartland off its rails, it would have to be Mark Twain.
Speaking on his "Double-Barrelled Detective Story" and other matters Twainlockian or just Twainish, Mark Twain (or Samuel Clemens, or . . . maybe Warren Brown) gave a funny and, perhaps, educational for those of us who hadn't read every single one of his books, like Wisconsin Sherlockian Gayle Puhl.
The challenge of following Mr. Twain fell to Dr. Tassy Hayden, who, just one short year or so ago, was quite nervous about attending her first meeting of a traditional scion society. Would you believe that now, as she got up to the podium to deliver a paper on Holmes's monographs? Not at all.
A good mind like Tassy's drops so well into Sherlockian study that her paper stood well against all the learned works I heard in Dayton this spring from more experienced hands. The science of fingerprinting actually has some historical ties to St. Louis, it turns out. Since my talk is next, I'm suddenly finding its lack of ties to St. Louis or the library an excuse to get nervous, though at this point, I'm pretty sure that will pass when I've got a podium in front of me.
Singlestick has St. Louis ties as well!
At this point, my chronicling of the event falls into a "fog of war" zone, as I had to do my own talk in which I introduced a quantum theory of Sherlockian scholarship that explains Doyle's continuity by taking every detail as truth . . . but maybe not a truth on this Earth. Tuesdays on Fridays. Cocaine that makes you sleepy. Multiple versions of "A Scandal in Bohemia." The talk was pretty much all over the place, and we'll see if it gets published somewhere this fall.
But after a quick break and a few folk wanting to discuss theoretical Canon continuity science, it was time for my buddy Don Hobbs to take the podium and talk about Sherlockian collecting, which he is extremely qualified to do. As one of the many who learned at the feet of John Bennett Shaw, then took a special interest and pushed into that field beyond what the master collector ever did, Don has a LOT of collecting stories. Looking back on the day, it's fascinating how many of the talks were about personal experiences . . . tales of Sherlockian life.
That might make a theme for a Sherlockian conference all by itself: "Sherlockian Stories: The Adventures and Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes Fans." (Feel free to steal this idea.)
Don is revealing a few tricks for identifying Sherlock Holmes books when you can't read the language. The "2704" cab number in The Hound of the Baskervilles. The year 1895. Mistakes are definitely made in the process, of course, but with dedication and determination, foreign editions can be found. Which Don did, in many countries, and in many anecdotes.
Next on the program, "The Fighting Styles of Sherlock Holmes." This was the point a local fighting group was supposed to put on a fighting demo, but they broke up between agreeing to do it and now. What then, does a conference committee do to fill that void? Well, if they know a certain blogger who says, "Hey, I can write a fighting demo over this weekend!" they might get something they can work with to take the place of their missing fighting group. I am VERY curious to see how that turns out.
That is, if we have time . . . running a tad late and people always have questions for Don Hobbs.
Hooo boy . . . this is getting wacky. More to come.
Speaking on his "Double-Barrelled Detective Story" and other matters Twainlockian or just Twainish, Mark Twain (or Samuel Clemens, or . . . maybe Warren Brown) gave a funny and, perhaps, educational for those of us who hadn't read every single one of his books, like Wisconsin Sherlockian Gayle Puhl.
The challenge of following Mr. Twain fell to Dr. Tassy Hayden, who, just one short year or so ago, was quite nervous about attending her first meeting of a traditional scion society. Would you believe that now, as she got up to the podium to deliver a paper on Holmes's monographs? Not at all.
A good mind like Tassy's drops so well into Sherlockian study that her paper stood well against all the learned works I heard in Dayton this spring from more experienced hands. The science of fingerprinting actually has some historical ties to St. Louis, it turns out. Since my talk is next, I'm suddenly finding its lack of ties to St. Louis or the library an excuse to get nervous, though at this point, I'm pretty sure that will pass when I've got a podium in front of me.
Singlestick has St. Louis ties as well!
At this point, my chronicling of the event falls into a "fog of war" zone, as I had to do my own talk in which I introduced a quantum theory of Sherlockian scholarship that explains Doyle's continuity by taking every detail as truth . . . but maybe not a truth on this Earth. Tuesdays on Fridays. Cocaine that makes you sleepy. Multiple versions of "A Scandal in Bohemia." The talk was pretty much all over the place, and we'll see if it gets published somewhere this fall.
But after a quick break and a few folk wanting to discuss theoretical Canon continuity science, it was time for my buddy Don Hobbs to take the podium and talk about Sherlockian collecting, which he is extremely qualified to do. As one of the many who learned at the feet of John Bennett Shaw, then took a special interest and pushed into that field beyond what the master collector ever did, Don has a LOT of collecting stories. Looking back on the day, it's fascinating how many of the talks were about personal experiences . . . tales of Sherlockian life.
That might make a theme for a Sherlockian conference all by itself: "Sherlockian Stories: The Adventures and Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes Fans." (Feel free to steal this idea.)
Don is revealing a few tricks for identifying Sherlock Holmes books when you can't read the language. The "2704" cab number in The Hound of the Baskervilles. The year 1895. Mistakes are definitely made in the process, of course, but with dedication and determination, foreign editions can be found. Which Don did, in many countries, and in many anecdotes.
Next on the program, "The Fighting Styles of Sherlock Holmes." This was the point a local fighting group was supposed to put on a fighting demo, but they broke up between agreeing to do it and now. What then, does a conference committee do to fill that void? Well, if they know a certain blogger who says, "Hey, I can write a fighting demo over this weekend!" they might get something they can work with to take the place of their missing fighting group. I am VERY curious to see how that turns out.
That is, if we have time . . . running a tad late and people always have questions for Don Hobbs.
Hooo boy . . . this is getting wacky. More to come.
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