Books you can't pick up.

This morning I was laying in bed, trying to decide whether to get up or not, I saw a book on the shelf next to the bed.

There are plenty of books there, and I'm pretty familiar with them. Things I'm in the process of reading, things I'm meaning to get to, a little collection of books by Baker Street Babes that I haven't figured out where to put in the library yet. But then there was one book . . . one little book . . . that I had no idea what it was.

I picked it up and then remembered: "Oh, yeah. THAT book."

It was a novel featuring some relative of Sherlock Holmes that I picked up many, many months ago

Separately or as one, the stories of Sherlock Holmes are books that I've picked up more than any other, by far. The only book that comes close in William Goldman's The Princess Bride, which I own many copies of, and that still only gets touched a fraction of the times Sherlock does. I'll be picking up Sherlock in one form or another again today to continue my summer reading.

And yet this morning, the relative-of-Sherlock book I picked up struck me as a curiosity. I had started reading it when I bought it, got a few chapters in, and totally lost interest. Not only lost interest, but forgot it existed. It wasn't one of those "Oh, I should get to that some day," or "Oh, I need to finish reading that."

It was practically "What is this book even doing on my shelf?"

The answer, of course, is obvious. It had Sherlock Holmes's name on the cover.

So now I have to figure out what to do with it before I forget about it all over again. Donate to a book sale, toss into some part of the library that's just a miscellaneous Sherlock holding area for historical reference that such a thing existed, or what?

As much as some folks have disagreed with my treatment of CBS's Elementary over the last couple of years, there is a fate much worse than an active and energetic hatred of a "Sherlockian" entertainment: the fate of being unfinished and forgotten. Nobody wants their creative work to make no impact, and a negative reaction is still a reaction.

I feel bad for a book that you just can't pick up, except as a solid object that needs dealing with and moved out of the way. But it is what it is. Life is too short to waste on those things not worth remembering, even if Sherlock Holmes's name is on the cover.

Is the Doyle Estate sexy enough to own Sherlock Holmes?

Okay, I'm actually just writing today's bit of babble just to justify the headline.

With "BBC didn't think Benedict Cumberbatch was sexy enough to play Sherlock Holmes" and "Doyle estate insists Sherlock Holmes remains under copyright" competing for top Sherlock Holmes headline on my Google newsfeed, neither of which seeming particularly clickworthy, it just seemed necessary. After all the art of the click-inspiring headline has become something of an irritating art form on the internet . . . can you imagine what the titles of the sixty original stories of Sherlock Holmes would have been, had Doyle been writing them for some current web outlet?

"Watson takes a bullet, and you won't believe what Sherlock says next!"

"Wait, was that Sherlock Holmes in the front row of that concert?"

"When one of a pair of twins gets Sherlock Holmes in her bedroom, somebody has a riding crop!"

"Singing star's own "Game of Thrones" is hiding a royal . . . what?"

"Another math whiz struck down by a body of water -- and this time Sherlock didn't do it!"

"Boy beaten by Watson with wicket comes to Sherlock Holmes for help years later!"

"Watson leaves his wife for a drug den and hooks up with someone he used to live with!"

"Mrs. Hudson makes sure the man across the street knows her bust is the real thing!"

"You won't believe what TV's 'Elementary' is based on!"

Okay, so that last one's not Canonical, but I had to find some way to get off the subject and get on with the evening. But wait until the next post! It will be written by someone who looks uncannily like me!

Oh, internet.

Summer of Sherlock: Shoscombe Old Place

A summer read of Sherlock Holmes could start no better than with "The Adventure of Shoscombe Old Place." 'Tis a tale of a nearly retired, relaxed Holmes, dealing with a matter that allows he and Watson to actually go fishing midway through the case. And why not?

Sherlock Holmes has reached a point late in his career where he is convincing Scotland Yard of the usefulness of the microscope in criminal investigation. He is the acknowledged master of detection, and the Yard is listening to him. And Watson? Watson is comfortable enough in life that he can spend half his old wound pension on the entertainments of the track. These are two guys who've done their share of racing across London and are ready to take it a little easy. When they head for Shoscombe with the cover story of being on a fishing expedition, with all their rods, reels, and baskets, it seems like a ruse at first, but eventually they wind up actually catching some trout for supper -- these two friends have plainly done this before.

There's a haunted crypt worthy of a Scooby Doo episode, a larger-than-life fellow who horsewhips people, and a dog that behaves strangely in the noon-time. It's a wee bit off, because Holmes and Watson spend a lot of time skulking around the edges of what may or may not be a crime scene, and there isn't a young lady in peril as in other classic "weird goings-on at the country house" stories like "Speckled Band" or "Copper Beeches." And it is one of those Casebook tales with a slightly pastiche-ish feel and a few lines that cause reactions in the modern day that Doyle never intended. But still, it's Sherlock Holmes, and a lot more familiar Holmes than many that came after.

Beginning a "Summer of Sherlock" by reading "The Adventure of Shoscombe Old Place" around the time it occurred, one also feels the need to align one's self further with the events of the tale by doing something like a little fishing. Not having my fishing license or any rods, reels or baskets to my name (black sheep of the Keefauver clan of fishermen that I now am in that respect), I decided to make my connection in an equally valid, yet less energetic manner.

A friend of mine brought her pair of Cavalier King Charles Spaniels to a couple of social events this weekend, and I did my share of petting those lovable pups. The Cavalier King Charles Spaniel is an interesting breed, a modern recreation of the dogs that Sir Ralph Musgrave's pal King Charles II loved above all others. And while this seems to lapse into the territory of "The Musgrave Ritual," consider this little fact:

In 1903, the time that "Shoscombe Old Place" occurred, the Kennel Club combined four separate breeds of spaniels existing at that time to create the King Charles Spaniel. So in petting that pair of Cavalier King Charles pooches, I was surely petting some portion of the Shoscombe spaniel chromosomal line . . . or at least I shall enjoy thinking so.

So start your summer with a leisurely read of "Shoscombe Old Place," do a little Memorial Day fishing, or just pet your nearest spaniel. The Summer of Sherlock Holmes has begun!

Remembering a Sherlockian on Popeye's trail.

My grandfather was a firm adherent to the tradition of putting flowers on the graves of one's relatives on Memorial Day. Times change, families spread far away from the cemeteries of the old home towns, and such things become no longer the way for many, including myself. But a timely email from Michael McClure of the Chester Baskerville Society is letting me put a blog-flower out in remembrance of at least one old friend this Memorial Day.

The Chester Baskerville Society is one of my favorite names for a Sherlockian society, and their turf is the river town of Chester, Illinois . . . which is also the home of Popeye the sailor man. And as with all things Sherlockian, they can't help but connect the two. The Popeye Character Trail in Chester is a really fun feature of the town, one I wish Peoria had something similar too, and the Chester Baskerville Society had been heavily involved with it for some time. So if you ever make it to Chester, perhaps on a side-trip the next time you're in St. Louis, and you follow the Popeye trail, keep your eye out for some Sherlockian "cookies" amidst the statuary.

You might note Castor Oyl's notable outfit and magnifying glass, or a certain Conan Doyle novel in a stack of books by Cole Oyl, but if you are especially observant when you get to Poopdeck Pappy, you might just find tributes to one-and-a-half Sherlockians of note.

First, comes an obvious memorial to my friend and neighbor, Robert C. Burr. Even though his investiture in the Baker Street Irregulars was "The Rascally Lascar," to those who knew him best he became "The One Fixed Point" over the years as those occasions when he left Peoria became more and more rare. (Which totally sounds like I'm following in his footsteps at this point, but trust me, completely different circumstances.) Here's Bob's tribute:

But even though Bob was that One Fixed Point who didn't get around so much, he did have a two-dimensional doppelganger named Robbie Burr who made it to all sorts of places, one of which was notably the Baker Street Irregulars of New York's annual dinner. Robbie was always a bit shadier than Bob and is probably still giving toasts to Professor Moriarty at Occupants of the Empty House meetings now and then. So if you circle around behind Poopdeck Pappy for a look at his "poopdeck," you'll find the button-flap of his britches to have the following inscription:

It's a far cry from the B.S.I. archives at Harvard, but it certainly suits Robbie and I think Bob would get a pretty big kick out of it.

The Popeye Character Trail is far from done, and there's another definite Sherlockian treat coming in the statue of Professor O.G. Wotaznozzle coming up next to grace the front of Chester High School. Mike also tells me that since "The Detective" was a key feature in Elzie C. Segar's Thimble Theater comic (which was where Popeye came from), a full size Sherlock Holmes statue might be hoped for in the future, and donations for Sherlockian engravings for that work will be graciously accepted. For further info, you can contact Michael McClure at watson7654321@gmail.com and I'll surely be writing more about it here as that day draws near.

But for now, getting a little reminder of Bob and his doppelganger for Memorial Day has been a really nice thing.

Gatiss in Indiana. Jitters in Peoria.

Okay, here's the point where those of you who already don't think I'm a bit mad join the rest of the readership.

Yesterday came a HUGE announcement via I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere: The fourth Gillette to Brett symposium over in Indiana had scored Mark Gatiss as a guest for its weekend this fall.

Yes, in mid-September, I can simply drive across one state line and see the co-creator of BBC Sherlock and the actor who plays Mycroft in that same production. Probably one of the greatest contributors to Sherlockian culture currently alive on this planet.

My initial reaction?

Complete and utter terror.

Yes, I'm a bit mad, you see. To me, Mark Gatiss is London, just as Mycroft Holmes was the British Government. And what do I mean by that?

You see, I've never been to London. And don't really have a desire to go, despite the thousands of people over the years who say, "You like Sherlock Holmes? You really need to go to England."

Yes, I like Sherlock Holmes. I love 221B Baker Street and the London that surrounds it. But I also know that place is kinda like Middle Earth or Narnia, despite the great amount of historically correct detail that Doyle wove into the fabric of that universe. And I'd hate to have that London ruined with an overlay of traffic, museum souvenir shops, and the possibility of the occasional bad sandwich. London surely has positives to outweigh all that, all on its own, but it could also be like New York . . . and let's not even get into my issues there.

So . . . fear of ruining illusions. We do have more episodes of Sherlock to come. And also, add to that one more peccadillo: fear of celebrities. As many a friend who has tried to drag me to celebrity tables at cons has noticed, I have a definite fear of the celebrated personage. When you meet a normal person for the first time, you get a nice trickle of information about them, information you can interact with and digest at a reasonable pace. When you meet a celebrity whom you have any interest at all in, so much data comes flooding to the front, most of it having nothing to do with their state in that moment. If they're on a stage, separated from the audience, they're like animals in the zoo kept at a safe distance. But do I want to actually pet a tiger? So many ways it can go horribly awry.

Same with celebrities . . . so many ways it can go horribly awry.

Sure, they aren't going to eat you. But say the wrong thing and you're a Chris Farley character, going "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" to yourself in your private moments for the rest of your days. I could list the number of celebrities, big and small, whom I felt like a complete idiot after meeting, even after I did nothing noticeably wrong, but even that would be a little embarrassing.

Now comes my real quandry, though, in any case: Sign-ups for From Gillette to Brett IV are said to start this weekend over at the Wessex Press site. With a top-level guest like Mark Gatiss, the conference is bound to sell out incredibly fast. We Middlewesterners are desperate for the rare celebrity appearance, and Gatiss is bound to draw folks in from elsewhere as well. So I have to get over my little issues and get signed up before that happens.

You might want to carpe you own diem and get on that little bandwagon in the days ahead. And maybe I'll see you there. But I'm also the guy who missed Jeremy Brett in St. Louis during the height of the Granada series . . . and who does that?

Once again, we shall see.

A really long distance relationship.

Forget about Watson -- how would you describe your relationship with Sherlock Holmes?

I'm not trying to imply that there's any disfunction here. If Sherlock really is your constant companion that no one else sees but you, you probably should talk to a professional about it. (And not the professional consulting detective who's watching you read this.) But if you're a fan of Sherlock Holmes, you definitely do have a relationship with him, and a more intense, affecting relationship than some of the folk you walk on by in person every single day. Is it wrong to care more about a guy who lives not just across the Atlantic, but on the page or screen as well, more than the lady who works down the hall in accounting services? Unless the latter could really use your help and you choose to pay attention to the former, probably not. Oh, let's not be a reality-ist here and get all, "Real people are SO much more important!" Please.

So, you and Sherlock . . . what's the deal there?

C'mon, don't be shy. Is he your mentor, your spirit guide, your unrequiting lover? Is he a sort of weird uncle to your own intellect, your fashion inspiration, your sexual fantasy? Your job, your mission, your scheme for getting a few bucks out of those who aren't as familiar with him? Your specimen for study? Your plaything? The list of possible relationships between any two human beings can go on and on, and so it is with Sherlock Holmes and you.

"Sherlock Holmes and you" sounds like something from an old grade school educational film, yes, but what would that film be about?

Pondering what exactly the connection between you and Mr. Sherlock Holmes is . . . well, it's worth a few moments. Or more. Delving into just why you find yourself considering this semi-historical figure as important . . . or at least more important than any other character in any other book or show you experienced this year . . . can tell you something about yourself as much as him.

Hmm . . . Sherlock Holmes investigating you for a client who is also you, when it's you doing all the work. Three more relationships right there!

So what is going on between you and Mr. Sherlock Holmes? As long as you know, I don't suppose you have to tell. But don't expect me not to ask one day, so you might want to be ready.

Ta.

A valuable report from a valuable institution.

One of the most fascinating things to come up this week was the leaked New York Times Innovation report and its frank discussion of the changing face of the news media. What does this have to do with Sherlock Holmes, you ask?

Nothing. And everything.

In the last few years I've been enthralled by the paradigm shifts that have hit the hobby of Sherlockiana. While things like  "disruptive economics" may not apply directly to a past-time that is done for love and not money, to pretend that our little area of recreational interest is a protected sanctuary from the winds of change would be a decided delusion. One can have all the confidence in the world proclaiming, "And thus shall it be forever and ever!" about one's favorite institution, but such declarations might as well be made about sand castles . . . for that is what we build in fandoms, after all. Pretty, pretty sand castles, true mind palaces of sand sometimes, yes, yet sand one day destined for the coming tide.

But lately we've been seeing those castles built of digital audio, social networks, video series, and more. No news there, but what the Times Innovation report really brings out is that it's more than just addition of new media -- it's new relationships, new pathways. The days when you just had a front page and expected everyone to enter your published world through the latest issue are gone. Once published, an article is out there for fresh eyes to find years after the moment whose circumstances caused its creation -- without the aged paper and dust that might give it at least a hint of a past context.

Words don't have dominance just for being published in this publication or that any more, and have to stand or fall on their own merit, as we saw when a particular old print piece made its way on to the net and had several strong rebuttals show up, bettering the original in some cases. Great ideas can come from someone no Sherlockian has ever heard of before, who stepped fresh on to the scene through a door no one saw was even there. And its very apparent that there are more very knowledgeable Sherlockians out there than there ever were.

Where a core value of Sherlockian culture used to be collecting in the pre-internet day, I suspect a core value of the next generation's Sherlockian paradigm will be spreading and sharing. Instead of putting out a limited number of small publications that collectors must acquire over time -- which no one was making any money at anyway -- one can now make a total publication output available to any reader at any time. Don Hobbs quoted that old Shaw maxim in the latest I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere podcast, "If you have one of something, gloat. If you have two, share." Today we find the time for gloating is nearly done, as it's so easy to share. (Yes, we're still bound by copyright laws, but sharing of knowledge gleaned and helpful quotes are within all of our purview.)

One of my favorite parts of the Innovation report so far is the section entitled "A List of Best Practices for Experimentation." Experimentation is an area where those who follow Mr. Sherlock Holmes have always sparkled. As much as I like to marvel at what "these kids today" are up to and grumble about our older institutions, Sherlockians have always been boldly going where no one else in the hobby has gone before in celebration of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, with all the energy of suitors competing for the attentions of a famous beauty. They love to try new things, to get an idea, test it out, and see where things go. If experimentation is what it takes to succeed in the brave new world ahead, I think Sherlockians will be okay.

"The Press, Watson, is a most valuable institution, if you only know how to use it," Holmes once said, and as we all re-learn what the Press exactly is in this century, the Sherlocks among us will be figuring out new ways to use it . . . or be it, as new openings present themselves.