One of the first memories I have of BBC's incarnation of Sherlock Holmes is his use of a smartphone. I remember at the time thinking "Text messages are telegrams! We finally have telegrams back, and Sherlock Holmes can exist in the modern day! Brilliant!"
Yet even at that, an older Sherlockian fully coming to grips with this thing in our pockets is not always a quick and easy path. Many among us still think it's a major social crime to look at one's phone during any human interaction. The Baker Street Irregulars still have an edict against phones at their annual dinners. (Their leader, of course, being a happily self-proclaimed Luddite for many a year.) And the books. How can we ever replace the books?
Well, this has been the week for my phone and I.
Sure, Twitter, photos, Pokemon Go, WhatsApp . . . we all have found apps that draw us in for daily use. But there are some leaps that need to be made on a personal level. Like how we feel about looking something up on Google during a conversation . . . I mean, with every answer in the world at our fingertips, why waste time puzzling over it and hold up anything else? Rude? No -- ruder to waste someone else's time. We all know how rude some folks tend to think Sherlock Holmes can be, but he sure seems like an efficient and sensible guy to me.
A few night's ago during an informal class, I whipped out my phone and started looking up concepts the speaker was hastily cramming into his talk . . . and suddenly what I was getting out of the lecture tripled in size. Rude to be looking at my phone during the lecture? Maybe to a viewer who didn't understand what I was doing, or an ego that demands all eyes on them. But the speaker had the self-confidence and insights to know that I was still paying attention, had no inner fears that needed to be calmed by my constant gaze, and later enjoyed the questions that I brought up as a result of my multi-task learning experience.
And then there's been the fanfic reading thing. Do you know where most fanfic doesn't exist? In books. Do you know what you can't carry around with you while you brush your teeth? A laptop or desktop computer. I've tried reading books on my phone before, but find my lifelong habits still have me going to bound paper books for my leisure reading. Trying to read a massive amount of fan fiction, however, has driven me to smartphone-as-a-book so I'm finally starting to make that evolution, one which many a younger Sherlockian has come to the party with that skill already in hand.
With a major purge of Tumblr going on this month, there is a definite awareness of the fragility of electronic fiction, art, and other media. Print backups are good. But carrying a library in your pocket? Letting that technology make us smarter, better-read, and more aware of the world around us? (Yes, I'll fight you on that last one -- name one person who actually fell into a ditch playing Pokemon Go.) There are some risks worth taking.
Sherlock Holmes was not a guy who was who he was because he stayed in his comfort zone or worried overmuch about public opinion. He pushed into using every new thing, tech, info, etc. that the world had to offer to further his cause. And as I'm definitely not Sherlock Holmes, these things may take me a little bit longer to get to, but I'm working on it.
The ongoing investigation of Sherlock Holmes, reported from the Peoria, Illinois outpost of Baker Street's dirtiest half a dozen.
Saturday, December 8, 2018
Thursday, December 6, 2018
The Omegaverse fiction of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
The Watsonian was kind enough to publish a talk I gave this summer in their latest issue, the Fall 2018 number. The article follows my evolution of thought regarding John H. Watson, his marriages, his discontinuities, and, eventually, his existences in a multiverse that Conan Doyle portrayed more than one universe from in the original Canon of sixty stories.
There was, of course, one universe where the dates line up perfectly with our own history. But there's another universe where our Tuesday was on their Friday. And another where our Tuesdays are their Saturdays. One where Sherlock didn't take a hiatus after Reichenbach (the "Wisteria Lodge" universe), one where Irene Adler lived past 1891, and one where she didn't. The details of the original Conan Doyle Canon are ample proof that what we've long thought of as one universe were actually many.
And since my reading travels have just yesterday taken me to darkest_bird's A Fold in the Universe, a tale of the John Watson of two parallel Earths . . . one of which is an Omegaverse . . . I couldn't help but wonder if the many universes contained in the Doyle Canon didn't contain at least one adventure that came to Doyle from an Omegaverse Holmes and Watson. Doyle, of course, transcribing what mental images and thoughts he could get from that other place, would filter them through an XY/XX Victorian mind and get the sort of story he expected in a world like our own.
John Watson, one will recall, rarely left Baker Street in those early days there, usually thought to be recovering from a weakened constitution left him by the ravages of war in a foreign land. But what if Doyle had transferred those reasons to a different sort of house-kept Watson, an Omega Watson, to whom a particular adventure had occurred? Could one find a tale in the original sixty that shows all the possibilities of being one drawn from a six-gendered world?
"The Five Orange Pips" takes place entirely at Baker Street, from Watson's point of view. While it's true, there are little fill-in details about Watson's wife or practice around the edges, there is also that remnant of a page reading "sent the pips to A, B, and C" . . . and have you ever noticed how much a "C" is just an incomplete "O"?
This is all surely making little sense to anyone unfamiliar with the genre, but as we look at Sherlock Holmes and John H. Watson with new lenses and new angles in our study of them, the possibility of one of Doyle's tales being a hidden Omegaverse case is a fun little bit of mental exercise. For the mind that likes to play, all the modern threads of our hobby are a gift from the gods, and an "open world" greater than that of any video game. There's so much fun to be had there that opening yourself up to some new possibilities, like alternative readings no Irregular of the 1930s every conceived of, can just bring a smile to your face.
And the potential of a straight line like "There are a few of us who frequent the Alpha Inn . . ." well, there's gold in them thar hills!
There was, of course, one universe where the dates line up perfectly with our own history. But there's another universe where our Tuesday was on their Friday. And another where our Tuesdays are their Saturdays. One where Sherlock didn't take a hiatus after Reichenbach (the "Wisteria Lodge" universe), one where Irene Adler lived past 1891, and one where she didn't. The details of the original Conan Doyle Canon are ample proof that what we've long thought of as one universe were actually many.
And since my reading travels have just yesterday taken me to darkest_bird's A Fold in the Universe, a tale of the John Watson of two parallel Earths . . . one of which is an Omegaverse . . . I couldn't help but wonder if the many universes contained in the Doyle Canon didn't contain at least one adventure that came to Doyle from an Omegaverse Holmes and Watson. Doyle, of course, transcribing what mental images and thoughts he could get from that other place, would filter them through an XY/XX Victorian mind and get the sort of story he expected in a world like our own.
John Watson, one will recall, rarely left Baker Street in those early days there, usually thought to be recovering from a weakened constitution left him by the ravages of war in a foreign land. But what if Doyle had transferred those reasons to a different sort of house-kept Watson, an Omega Watson, to whom a particular adventure had occurred? Could one find a tale in the original sixty that shows all the possibilities of being one drawn from a six-gendered world?
"The Five Orange Pips" takes place entirely at Baker Street, from Watson's point of view. While it's true, there are little fill-in details about Watson's wife or practice around the edges, there is also that remnant of a page reading "sent the pips to A, B, and C" . . . and have you ever noticed how much a "C" is just an incomplete "O"?
This is all surely making little sense to anyone unfamiliar with the genre, but as we look at Sherlock Holmes and John H. Watson with new lenses and new angles in our study of them, the possibility of one of Doyle's tales being a hidden Omegaverse case is a fun little bit of mental exercise. For the mind that likes to play, all the modern threads of our hobby are a gift from the gods, and an "open world" greater than that of any video game. There's so much fun to be had there that opening yourself up to some new possibilities, like alternative readings no Irregular of the 1930s every conceived of, can just bring a smile to your face.
And the potential of a straight line like "There are a few of us who frequent the Alpha Inn . . ." well, there's gold in them thar hills!
Wednesday, December 5, 2018
Diary of a fic-reading challenge, part the first
Okay, let's get the disclaimer part out of the way.
In reading the following, certain allowances need to be made. Being a male of a certain race and a certain age, who grew up in a world that might as well have been designed especially for him, I'm very used to entertainments directed at just my sort of brain. That Marvel Cinematic Universe that's ruling the box office is built around comics I've been training my brain on since junior high. It's a ridiculous level of being spoiled.
So pushing myself to read something that wasn't designed for my sort of brain, using Sherlock Holmes as a shoehorn or lubricant (now, now!) to get some different perspectives on life from another person's point of view . . . well, it's going to have some quirks, some odd pickiness on odd details, and just . . . well . . . nobody should take any of the following as a proper critique of anything.
That said, on with my "Three Patch Podcast Challenge," as I attempt to read every single bit of fic in their show notes for their December episode while the month is here.
December 2
First fic, chosen at a whim, At Least There's The Football by steffiesharpe. "Aftermath," the first part of the series, is written in present tense, which fits the initial scene: What was once a possibility, but is now an AU . . . the Moriarty bomb at the pool actually going off. It's a great way to bring Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade together, but might be a little too interested in socks at one point for my taste. I hate character socks, as they're usually those thin sort of socks and not the thick, cotton fluffies I prefer. I will have to revisit the second part of this after I sample something else to get those thin socks out of my head.
Second read, "Seeds" by thesardine. Phew! A short story. A nice little character piece of Sherlock dealing with being alone and case-less in Baker Street, a box of crackers becoming his "client," so to speak, and the endeavors that follow. Its premise borders on the silly, but Sherlock's personality is just quirky enough to make it totally work, and it sticks the landing with its finish. My only complaint: Apparently bad bodily odors coming off my heroes is one of my no-go areas. (Ick! Yuck! Pooey!)
Next up, "The Balance of Probabilty" by IAmJohnLocked4Life. Okay, getting a little more into the hot-and-heavy that fanfic's reputation tends toward, with a coming-of-age short about John Watson discovering he likes boys with a math tutor named James. Had I read the tags at the start of the tale, I'd have known exactly who that older lad was, but no . . . a math tutor named James, what was I supposed to think? When his hair and skin were a little too beach-boy for he-who-shall-not-be-named, I started to realize my mistake. Tales of males getting shivery at a like-gendered touch are going to be the interesting part of this experiment, not being of that persuasion myself . . . as yet. And the writers surely don't want me slipping "Aphasia the imaginary ghost girl" into my reading of the narrative to turn that key. But on we go.
December 3
Busy night out with friends, hoping to get a short one in tonight, and clicking upon "The Snow Queen 'Verse" by aderyn and faerymorstan (lovely name that) yields a series with a very short opening gambit, "Soft as Petals, Hungry as Thorns." Fairy tale Sherlock is asking Fairy Tale John out on a date. It's brevity gives my tired self an out for checking a box and checking out for tonight, but I'm going to have to return to see where this goes.
December 4
Getting home from work, it seemed like a good time to multi-task, and going the pod-fic route for the first time seemed a good way to add some fic to getting other things done. The first podfic on the list? The oft-mentioned A Cure for Boredom by emmagrant01, as read by finnagain. The reading is good, the narrative itself, however? This is where we start getting to that "not the intended audience" part of this trip. The first half is the two main males discussing and practicing masturbation, and when the other gender is writing your gender, wellllllll . . . there's a bit of a challenge in getting your brain to agree with what is going on as something you can relate to. I mean, it's a bit like . . . no, I don't want to really critique what I can't. I mean, we're talking a story whose design is to stimulate arousal, a.k.a. porn, and like music, that's a very subjective topic.
Sherlock and John seem very easily aroused in this fic, which is kind of necessary in the kind of sex-world AU where pizza delivery boys don't get nearly as many pizzas delivered in an evening shift. And there's very little non-sex story here so far. I'll be curious to see how that goes down the line.
December 5
Before going to bed last night, I pulled up "A Beginner's Guide to Apiology" by VictoryCandesence on my screen for my next read. Today, however, the Red Cross was taking blood at work, and when it turned out they were running late . . . eventually very late . . . I settled in for a read while I waited. But with a new day and a different device, I clicked into A Fold in the Universe by darkest_bird. Up to this point, I had determined to just hit a starting chapter from each of the novel-length fics and move along, so I didn't miss the breadth of the list of fics in the challenge by going deep too soon. But stuck in one place with a novel fic that had some great chapter-to-chapter intrigue going on, I went deep with A Fold in the Universe.
Annnnnnddd, it was Omegaverse. Often seemingly judged as one of the more extreme varieties of fic, so far it has seemed the most comfortable of genres to me. The mildly uncomfortable "that doesn't feel like real male behaviour" that I get from some fics gets swept away in the sci-fi of Omegaverse gender combos. And having started with The Gilded Cage by BeautifulFiction, some time ago, I've been impressed by the world-building that seems to draw some very bright writers to this genre.
darkest_bird works hooks into their fics as well as any pro (for all I know they might be a pro, outside of AO3 and that pseudonym -- such is the world of fic), and I'm halfway through the twenty-six chapters of A Fold in the Universe already, as I am having a very hard time putting it down. Two John Watsons trading universes between an Omegaverse and our traditional 'verse leads to some amazing character bits for all the players, but the John who suddenly finds himself an Omega is one of my favorite Watsons ever. This will definitely be the first novel-length in this challenge that I finish.
(And a side note -- if you need a fic to read during a blood donation, as we're all being typed "A," "AB," "B," or "O," well, a universe where the people are typed "A," "B," and "O" is the one to pick. Omegaverse makes blood donation a wacky online quiz -- "Are you an Alpha, a Beta, or an Omega? Your blood type will tell!")
In reading the following, certain allowances need to be made. Being a male of a certain race and a certain age, who grew up in a world that might as well have been designed especially for him, I'm very used to entertainments directed at just my sort of brain. That Marvel Cinematic Universe that's ruling the box office is built around comics I've been training my brain on since junior high. It's a ridiculous level of being spoiled.
So pushing myself to read something that wasn't designed for my sort of brain, using Sherlock Holmes as a shoehorn or lubricant (now, now!) to get some different perspectives on life from another person's point of view . . . well, it's going to have some quirks, some odd pickiness on odd details, and just . . . well . . . nobody should take any of the following as a proper critique of anything.
That said, on with my "Three Patch Podcast Challenge," as I attempt to read every single bit of fic in their show notes for their December episode while the month is here.
December 2
First fic, chosen at a whim, At Least There's The Football by steffiesharpe. "Aftermath," the first part of the series, is written in present tense, which fits the initial scene: What was once a possibility, but is now an AU . . . the Moriarty bomb at the pool actually going off. It's a great way to bring Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade together, but might be a little too interested in socks at one point for my taste. I hate character socks, as they're usually those thin sort of socks and not the thick, cotton fluffies I prefer. I will have to revisit the second part of this after I sample something else to get those thin socks out of my head.
Second read, "Seeds" by thesardine. Phew! A short story. A nice little character piece of Sherlock dealing with being alone and case-less in Baker Street, a box of crackers becoming his "client," so to speak, and the endeavors that follow. Its premise borders on the silly, but Sherlock's personality is just quirky enough to make it totally work, and it sticks the landing with its finish. My only complaint: Apparently bad bodily odors coming off my heroes is one of my no-go areas. (Ick! Yuck! Pooey!)
Next up, "The Balance of Probabilty" by IAmJohnLocked4Life. Okay, getting a little more into the hot-and-heavy that fanfic's reputation tends toward, with a coming-of-age short about John Watson discovering he likes boys with a math tutor named James. Had I read the tags at the start of the tale, I'd have known exactly who that older lad was, but no . . . a math tutor named James, what was I supposed to think? When his hair and skin were a little too beach-boy for he-who-shall-not-be-named, I started to realize my mistake. Tales of males getting shivery at a like-gendered touch are going to be the interesting part of this experiment, not being of that persuasion myself . . . as yet. And the writers surely don't want me slipping "Aphasia the imaginary ghost girl" into my reading of the narrative to turn that key. But on we go.
December 3
Busy night out with friends, hoping to get a short one in tonight, and clicking upon "The Snow Queen 'Verse" by aderyn and faerymorstan (lovely name that) yields a series with a very short opening gambit, "Soft as Petals, Hungry as Thorns." Fairy tale Sherlock is asking Fairy Tale John out on a date. It's brevity gives my tired self an out for checking a box and checking out for tonight, but I'm going to have to return to see where this goes.
December 4
Getting home from work, it seemed like a good time to multi-task, and going the pod-fic route for the first time seemed a good way to add some fic to getting other things done. The first podfic on the list? The oft-mentioned A Cure for Boredom by emmagrant01, as read by finnagain. The reading is good, the narrative itself, however? This is where we start getting to that "not the intended audience" part of this trip. The first half is the two main males discussing and practicing masturbation, and when the other gender is writing your gender, wellllllll . . . there's a bit of a challenge in getting your brain to agree with what is going on as something you can relate to. I mean, it's a bit like . . . no, I don't want to really critique what I can't. I mean, we're talking a story whose design is to stimulate arousal, a.k.a. porn, and like music, that's a very subjective topic.
Sherlock and John seem very easily aroused in this fic, which is kind of necessary in the kind of sex-world AU where pizza delivery boys don't get nearly as many pizzas delivered in an evening shift. And there's very little non-sex story here so far. I'll be curious to see how that goes down the line.
December 5
Before going to bed last night, I pulled up "A Beginner's Guide to Apiology" by VictoryCandesence on my screen for my next read. Today, however, the Red Cross was taking blood at work, and when it turned out they were running late . . . eventually very late . . . I settled in for a read while I waited. But with a new day and a different device, I clicked into A Fold in the Universe by darkest_bird. Up to this point, I had determined to just hit a starting chapter from each of the novel-length fics and move along, so I didn't miss the breadth of the list of fics in the challenge by going deep too soon. But stuck in one place with a novel fic that had some great chapter-to-chapter intrigue going on, I went deep with A Fold in the Universe.
Annnnnnddd, it was Omegaverse. Often seemingly judged as one of the more extreme varieties of fic, so far it has seemed the most comfortable of genres to me. The mildly uncomfortable "that doesn't feel like real male behaviour" that I get from some fics gets swept away in the sci-fi of Omegaverse gender combos. And having started with The Gilded Cage by BeautifulFiction, some time ago, I've been impressed by the world-building that seems to draw some very bright writers to this genre.
darkest_bird works hooks into their fics as well as any pro (for all I know they might be a pro, outside of AO3 and that pseudonym -- such is the world of fic), and I'm halfway through the twenty-six chapters of A Fold in the Universe already, as I am having a very hard time putting it down. Two John Watsons trading universes between an Omegaverse and our traditional 'verse leads to some amazing character bits for all the players, but the John who suddenly finds himself an Omega is one of my favorite Watsons ever. This will definitely be the first novel-length in this challenge that I finish.
(And a side note -- if you need a fic to read during a blood donation, as we're all being typed "A," "AB," "B," or "O," well, a universe where the people are typed "A," "B," and "O" is the one to pick. Omegaverse makes blood donation a wacky online quiz -- "Are you an Alpha, a Beta, or an Omega? Your blood type will tell!")
Tuesday, December 4, 2018
The Philip Jose Farmer we did not see on Sherlock Holmes
I was perusing a local used book store Saturday and looking appreciatively at their selections from Peoria's local science fiction great, Philip Jose Farmer. Even though his name might not be as well known among the younger generations, his popular Riverworld series made the best-seller lists and even had an attempt at a TV series. For the Sherlockian, his The Adventure of the Peerless Peer is a nice little addition to the collection. First teaming Holmes up with Tarzan, and later, when the Burroughs estate ruled otherwise, rewritten with Mowgli as "The Adventure of the Three Madmen."
Sherlock Holmes, as Farmer wrote him, was that classic elder Sherlock of pre-Cumberbatch times. Farmer, it should be noted, did not think to write of Sherlock Holmes as a sexual being. This might not seem like an odd thing to most, as so many authors of the last century left Holmes mostly asexual. But Philip Jose Farmer? Did you ever read what he did with his two favorite younger heroes, Tarzan and Doc Savage?
It's been a while, and full details escape me, except for a particular pair of steel fangs and a slaver who liked jungle men a little too much, but if you know the full length and breadth of Philip Jose Farmer's works, you know that even fifty years ago, he was getting stuff in print that would do any modern writer of fanfic proud with its level of sexual detail and kink. He even did name-changed clones of his favorite pulp heroes to get them a little lusty adventures of the flesh.
But not Sherlock Holmes.
Had Phil Farmer still be writing when Benedict Cumberbatch showed us that Sherlock Holmes could still be a young and oddly-sort-of virile chap, one wonders where he might have gone with one of his favorite heroes along those lines. Not that there's any void of that sort of thing at the moment, needing to be filled, but still, a Peorian who spent his college years soaking in Farmer's works has to wonder what stories the author might have told.
Would Sherlock have appeared in A Feast Unknown, with his own clone to match those of Tarzan and Doc Savage? (Lord Grandrith and Doc Caliban) Or might he have struck out on his own dark sexual adventures, turning his acute senses and focus to pleasures of the flesh? One thing is for certain -- given the freedom writers now have with Holmes, and Philip Jose Farmer's love of playing in other authors' toy boxes, I think we would have seem something more than an older John Watson getting a little randy about a jungle girl in The Adventure of the Peerless Peer. ("The older the buck, the stiffer the horn," to quote Farmer's Watson.)
But the era of Philip Jose Farmer is long over, and we've got many a new writer to try their hand at exploring Holmes's bedroom potential . . . many a newer writer, he wrote, heading back to his fanfiction marathon.
Sherlock Holmes, as Farmer wrote him, was that classic elder Sherlock of pre-Cumberbatch times. Farmer, it should be noted, did not think to write of Sherlock Holmes as a sexual being. This might not seem like an odd thing to most, as so many authors of the last century left Holmes mostly asexual. But Philip Jose Farmer? Did you ever read what he did with his two favorite younger heroes, Tarzan and Doc Savage?
It's been a while, and full details escape me, except for a particular pair of steel fangs and a slaver who liked jungle men a little too much, but if you know the full length and breadth of Philip Jose Farmer's works, you know that even fifty years ago, he was getting stuff in print that would do any modern writer of fanfic proud with its level of sexual detail and kink. He even did name-changed clones of his favorite pulp heroes to get them a little lusty adventures of the flesh.
But not Sherlock Holmes.
Had Phil Farmer still be writing when Benedict Cumberbatch showed us that Sherlock Holmes could still be a young and oddly-sort-of virile chap, one wonders where he might have gone with one of his favorite heroes along those lines. Not that there's any void of that sort of thing at the moment, needing to be filled, but still, a Peorian who spent his college years soaking in Farmer's works has to wonder what stories the author might have told.
Would Sherlock have appeared in A Feast Unknown, with his own clone to match those of Tarzan and Doc Savage? (Lord Grandrith and Doc Caliban) Or might he have struck out on his own dark sexual adventures, turning his acute senses and focus to pleasures of the flesh? One thing is for certain -- given the freedom writers now have with Holmes, and Philip Jose Farmer's love of playing in other authors' toy boxes, I think we would have seem something more than an older John Watson getting a little randy about a jungle girl in The Adventure of the Peerless Peer. ("The older the buck, the stiffer the horn," to quote Farmer's Watson.)
But the era of Philip Jose Farmer is long over, and we've got many a new writer to try their hand at exploring Holmes's bedroom potential . . . many a newer writer, he wrote, heading back to his fanfiction marathon.
Sunday, December 2, 2018
The Three Patch Podcast Challenge
It's December second, and I'm insane.
Why, you ask? Maybe it's failing this year's November NaNoWriMo spectacularly. Maybe it's the fear of an oncoming Christmas season that will not be ignored. Or maybe I just really needed to push my boundaries.
It's the beginning of the month, and the Three Patch Podcast has recently come out, as it usually does, thanks to some really hardworking folks. It's a huge podcast, a lot to listen to, and what's even more huge: a lot to completely digest. In the current episode, Episode 86: The Curtain Rises, there are over forty fic recommendations for the listener to follow up on. Over forty of varying lengths, and fics can be huge!
Now, as Sherlock Holmes is oft said to be a "literary" fandom, a phrase which to some means "the Doyle, and nothing but the Doyle," I sometimes feel like Sherlockiana as a whole has not quite realized the gold mine that has been growing beneath our feet. Writers are growing and developing in the fertile soil of Sherlock in land that many pre-judged years ago as a barren trash-field. I've had some good experiences reading in that land, however, and trust me, I don't just accept any old crap as good writing. In fact, it's getting harder and harder to find writers that hold my attention.
Which brings me to the reason I'm insane today. Not because I've enjoyed a bit of fanfic, and even written a minute amount. No, because I'm making December my first ever attempt at what I call "the Three Patch Podcast Challenge." Because I feel like that podcast challenges me every episode, and I've never taken them up on said challenge before, though I'm sure many have. What challenge, you ask?
I'm going to attempt to read every single fic rec from this month's Three Patch episode notes in the month the podcast came out. As I said, it's over forty. Is that even possible? Hell if I know, I'm just pointing at a mountain peak and going, "There! That's where I'm headed!" Since fic-work can range from a single short story to an ongoing, massive novel-length work, titles alone give no clue as to what lies out there. Chances are I may look ahead after testing the foothills of a first chapter and go, "NEXT!" But you have to head into those foothills to find out, don't you?
Blog posts of my progress will be coming, whether it's success or failure. But now that the idea has entered my head, the attempt must be made . . . because I'm just a little bit obsessive that way.
Truly insane? On a divine mission from a Sherlockian God? (You know, should She exist, She has to be a Sherlockian, don't you? Only makes sense.) Or just another foolish dream destined to be dashed against the rocks of reality?
We shall see. Off I go . . . . I'll report back in a few days. Send a search party if you don't hear from me by Friday.
Why, you ask? Maybe it's failing this year's November NaNoWriMo spectacularly. Maybe it's the fear of an oncoming Christmas season that will not be ignored. Or maybe I just really needed to push my boundaries.
It's the beginning of the month, and the Three Patch Podcast has recently come out, as it usually does, thanks to some really hardworking folks. It's a huge podcast, a lot to listen to, and what's even more huge: a lot to completely digest. In the current episode, Episode 86: The Curtain Rises, there are over forty fic recommendations for the listener to follow up on. Over forty of varying lengths, and fics can be huge!
Now, as Sherlock Holmes is oft said to be a "literary" fandom, a phrase which to some means "the Doyle, and nothing but the Doyle," I sometimes feel like Sherlockiana as a whole has not quite realized the gold mine that has been growing beneath our feet. Writers are growing and developing in the fertile soil of Sherlock in land that many pre-judged years ago as a barren trash-field. I've had some good experiences reading in that land, however, and trust me, I don't just accept any old crap as good writing. In fact, it's getting harder and harder to find writers that hold my attention.
Which brings me to the reason I'm insane today. Not because I've enjoyed a bit of fanfic, and even written a minute amount. No, because I'm making December my first ever attempt at what I call "the Three Patch Podcast Challenge." Because I feel like that podcast challenges me every episode, and I've never taken them up on said challenge before, though I'm sure many have. What challenge, you ask?
I'm going to attempt to read every single fic rec from this month's Three Patch episode notes in the month the podcast came out. As I said, it's over forty. Is that even possible? Hell if I know, I'm just pointing at a mountain peak and going, "There! That's where I'm headed!" Since fic-work can range from a single short story to an ongoing, massive novel-length work, titles alone give no clue as to what lies out there. Chances are I may look ahead after testing the foothills of a first chapter and go, "NEXT!" But you have to head into those foothills to find out, don't you?
Blog posts of my progress will be coming, whether it's success or failure. But now that the idea has entered my head, the attempt must be made . . . because I'm just a little bit obsessive that way.
Truly insane? On a divine mission from a Sherlockian God? (You know, should She exist, She has to be a Sherlockian, don't you? Only makes sense.) Or just another foolish dream destined to be dashed against the rocks of reality?
We shall see. Off I go . . . . I'll report back in a few days. Send a search party if you don't hear from me by Friday.
His best friend and his true love?
There's a concept that diamond marketers and I have long disagreed upon. As one more tool in their push to convince people they need diamonds to make relationships function, the advertising folks like to use the phrase "for your best friend and your true love." And, to be blunt, that has always seemed to me to be shorting folks one relationship in their lives to deal with the insecurities of another.
If you've truly found such a person and still want to make that claim after the honeymoon phase of a relationship is done, well, congratulations. But there's a test that my best friends have passed that a true love rarely gets the chance to take, and when I look at Sherlock Holmes and John H. Watson of the Doyle Canon, I see them passing with flying colors.
There is an old saying "absence makes the heart grow fonder" that doesn't really apply to best friends in my book. They were great friends to start, and when they go away for a time and return to your life, that same great friendship hasn't changed. It's like they never left. But when your true love leaves, you feel that absence like a hole in your being. You pine. You long. Your heart grows so much fonder that it hurts. And, if and when they return, well, things are not exactly the same as if they never left. (Probably a lot more sex at first, for one thing.)
John Watson of the original sixty stories is always leaving Sherlock Holmes, and every time he returns, they pick up where they left off. Sherlock Holmes even does that "I'm dead. Oh, no, I'm not!" thing and they still pick up right where they left off. To me, that smacks heavily of best friends.
Imagining the angst and drama of a true love that goes through all of the departures and reunions of Doyle's original duo makes their tale something so different that one can hardly focus on the mysteries they're solving. It would be interesting to see a Canon-faithful rewrite of the original sixty that delved into Holmes and Watson as each others' true love, the way Rob Nunn did a rewrite of the Canon with Holmes as a criminal in The Criminal Mastermind of Baker Street, and I know there are folks out there with the talent to do it. It would be a hard emotional journey for said writer, I'm sure, because a Sherlockian's every impulse is to see our two heroes happy . . . and I don't think all their comings and goings (titter if you must) would be a happy love story.
As best friends, though, they seem to do just fine. John can still have Mary for his true love, Sherlock can have crime as his true love, and Canon life goes on.
But, hey, if they were both best friends and true loves, maybe they could get a fancy diamond ring for each other out of the deal.
If you've truly found such a person and still want to make that claim after the honeymoon phase of a relationship is done, well, congratulations. But there's a test that my best friends have passed that a true love rarely gets the chance to take, and when I look at Sherlock Holmes and John H. Watson of the Doyle Canon, I see them passing with flying colors.
There is an old saying "absence makes the heart grow fonder" that doesn't really apply to best friends in my book. They were great friends to start, and when they go away for a time and return to your life, that same great friendship hasn't changed. It's like they never left. But when your true love leaves, you feel that absence like a hole in your being. You pine. You long. Your heart grows so much fonder that it hurts. And, if and when they return, well, things are not exactly the same as if they never left. (Probably a lot more sex at first, for one thing.)
John Watson of the original sixty stories is always leaving Sherlock Holmes, and every time he returns, they pick up where they left off. Sherlock Holmes even does that "I'm dead. Oh, no, I'm not!" thing and they still pick up right where they left off. To me, that smacks heavily of best friends.
Imagining the angst and drama of a true love that goes through all of the departures and reunions of Doyle's original duo makes their tale something so different that one can hardly focus on the mysteries they're solving. It would be interesting to see a Canon-faithful rewrite of the original sixty that delved into Holmes and Watson as each others' true love, the way Rob Nunn did a rewrite of the Canon with Holmes as a criminal in The Criminal Mastermind of Baker Street, and I know there are folks out there with the talent to do it. It would be a hard emotional journey for said writer, I'm sure, because a Sherlockian's every impulse is to see our two heroes happy . . . and I don't think all their comings and goings (titter if you must) would be a happy love story.
As best friends, though, they seem to do just fine. John can still have Mary for his true love, Sherlock can have crime as his true love, and Canon life goes on.
But, hey, if they were both best friends and true loves, maybe they could get a fancy diamond ring for each other out of the deal.
Saturday, December 1, 2018
The high cost of a certain kind of Sherlocking
This week, I ran head-on into a little "sticker shock" at the price of a Sherlockian weekend that I was looking forward to. It's getting to be a common issue these days, and I'm not talking about a big New York weekend here. This was one of the non-airfare-involved ones.
For most of us, one of life's basic tenets is "How bad do you want it?" Nothing is completely out of reach, but it becomes a question of how hard you're willing to work, what you will sacrifice, and what other responsibilities you have. Sherlockian activity is definitely one of life's luxuries and not a necessity, as much as it might feel that way sometimes. And luxuries come after food, rent, taxes, daycare, medical insurance, and all that other no-fun stuff we do Holmes so we can ignore for a time.
(Yes, I said "do Holmes." Titter if you need to, titillation is what he's here for.}
Around the turn of the century, being a late baby-boomer, double-income, no-kids man-child sort made such choices a no-brainer (along with all those other late baby-boomer no-brain man-child choices one made back then . . . action figure shopping sprees, I mean, c'mon). But times change, and we now have more things to push money toward than ever before. Monthly Patreon support of our chosen artists, lists of software subscription fees, and all those other new bits that didn't exist a decade or two ago. So many choices!
Which takes us back to "How bad do you want it?" What takes priority?
At this point in my life, I have the advantage of a certain "been there, done that" dampening of desire. Certain speakers have been heard many times before, certain venues are no longer mysteries to be explored. And while I'd love to see all of my long-distance friends more often, at some point in a life of travels you just get too many of those to see them all. But there's also a feeling of incompleteness when certain Sherlockian travels were once a regular part of life, then aren't.
In the end, it seems to me to become less about re-living the past and more about deciding what is good for one's future. What activities offer a path into better Sherlocking ahead and not just trying to re-create moments that can never be re-created? Which big-ticket choices are an investment in Sherlockiana that might yield a future dividend and which are just another diversion in a world of diversions?
I think I've decided for me. You do you, and good luck!
For most of us, one of life's basic tenets is "How bad do you want it?" Nothing is completely out of reach, but it becomes a question of how hard you're willing to work, what you will sacrifice, and what other responsibilities you have. Sherlockian activity is definitely one of life's luxuries and not a necessity, as much as it might feel that way sometimes. And luxuries come after food, rent, taxes, daycare, medical insurance, and all that other no-fun stuff we do Holmes so we can ignore for a time.
(Yes, I said "do Holmes." Titter if you need to, titillation is what he's here for.}
Around the turn of the century, being a late baby-boomer, double-income, no-kids man-child sort made such choices a no-brainer (along with all those other late baby-boomer no-brain man-child choices one made back then . . . action figure shopping sprees, I mean, c'mon). But times change, and we now have more things to push money toward than ever before. Monthly Patreon support of our chosen artists, lists of software subscription fees, and all those other new bits that didn't exist a decade or two ago. So many choices!
Which takes us back to "How bad do you want it?" What takes priority?
At this point in my life, I have the advantage of a certain "been there, done that" dampening of desire. Certain speakers have been heard many times before, certain venues are no longer mysteries to be explored. And while I'd love to see all of my long-distance friends more often, at some point in a life of travels you just get too many of those to see them all. But there's also a feeling of incompleteness when certain Sherlockian travels were once a regular part of life, then aren't.
In the end, it seems to me to become less about re-living the past and more about deciding what is good for one's future. What activities offer a path into better Sherlocking ahead and not just trying to re-create moments that can never be re-created? Which big-ticket choices are an investment in Sherlockiana that might yield a future dividend and which are just another diversion in a world of diversions?
I think I've decided for me. You do you, and good luck!
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