A Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - A Sherlock Holmes Novel (novel #115)

The proper study of mankind is man, you know. ~ Dr. Watson on his initial fascination with Sherlock Holmes

A Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, is the first appearance of the world’s most famous detective, Sherlock Holmes.

It is often called a novel, but I personally think it is more accurately described as a novella: 43,000 words, right in the middle of the 30-60 thousand word definition. It is definitely NOT a short story, which was the most common venue for the exploits of Sherlock Holmes.

It also introduces Holmes’ chronicler, companion, cohabitant, and colleague, Dr. Watson who has recently returned to England from Afghanistan where he was injured and medically retired from the Army. Dr. Watson finds London expensive on his pension, and therefore seeks a roommate. Fortunately for us all, he is introduced to Sherlock Holmes.

Watson is fascinated by Holmes – as a study of mankind, and their legendary partnership develops. Watson accompanies Holmes on the case in question:

The corpse of an American found in an abandoned house, with no wounds, valuables intact, and a look of apparent dying agony on the face. Fresh blood, apparently not that of the deceased’s, is also discovered at the scene along with the word "rache" written on the wall in blood. The police of course – are baffled.

The police being, Inspectors Gregson and Lestrade of Scotland Yard, who will be recurring characters in the Sherlock Holmes canon. Gregson and Lestrade are professional rivals in the police force, but either are willing to accept credit that the reader knows is due to Sherlock Holmes.

In short – A Study in Scarlet – is FUN, grim subject notwithstanding, which is precisely what I would expect.

I’m not an all-in fan of the Detective genre, but Sherlock Holmes is so much more than a detective series. The dynamic between Holmes and Watson is – well, I’ve already said it, fun: great fun! Similarly, Holmes relationship with Lestrade and Gregson is marvelous, and I have yet to experience the Sherlock and Mycroft familial banter, or the epic contest between Holmes and Moriarty.

My rating: 3 1/2 of 5 stars

 

Excerpts:

The proper study of mankind is man, you know. ~ Dr. Watson on his initial fascination with Holmes

There is no satisfaction in vengeance unless the offender has time to realize who it is that strikes him, and why the retribution has come upon him. I had my plans arranged by which I should have the opportunity of making the man who had wronged me understand that his old sin had found him out. ~ the perpetrator

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Top Ten Mothers from Literature - Top Ten Tuesday (May, 16, 2017)

Top Ten Favorite Mothers from Literature

Top Ten Tuesday is an original feature/weekly meme created by The Broke and the Bookish

Unfortunately, I don’t have 10 favorite mothers from my classics list. So, this is actually 4 favorites, 3 I’m ambivalent about, 2 I disliked, and Melanie Hamilton is a class by herself.

Favorites:

Ma Joad from The Grapes of Wrath for her tireless devotion to her family.

Lady Jessica from Dune

Fantine from Les Mis

Amelia Osbourne from Vanity Fair – I’m judging this from memory, and I might change my mind later (this is my current read – a reread). Amelia has her flaws, but as I remember her devotion as a mother brings her to a terrible sacrifice. I’m not even sure I agree with her decision, but have no doubt about the purity of her motive.

Ambivalent – There were some things I liked about these mothers, but then there were other moments – not so much:

Sethe from Beloved

Hester Prynne from The Scarlet Letter

Anna Karenina

Dishonorable mention:

Antonia (mother of Claudius) from I, Claudius

Livia (Wife of Caesar Augustus) also from I, Claudius

Those last two are particularly awful.

Finally, there are other female characters whom I liked and/or admired, who happened to be mothers, but my opinion of them had little to do with their role as mothers, such as: Melanie Hamilton from Gone with the Wind. How can you not love Melanie? and although I find no fault with her as a mother, neither did I find anything especially commendable in that regard.

A Boy Named Stupid

A Boy Named Stupid

by J.E. Fountain

When I was 8 or 9, I was part of a well-established "gang" of kids in my neighborhood. One summer, a new kid showed up who looked and acted rather odd. When we asked his name, he made an angry expression and shouted "I'm stupid, I'm stupid, I'm stupid!" 

Without fail – every time.

My buddies and I thought this was funny. We didn't know his real name, so we called him Stupid. He responded as if it were his actual name. He didn't get angry if we called him Stupid, only if we asked his name. We loved to make sport of this odd boy, when someone came along who had not yet met Stupid, we’d nudge each other and tell them to ask his name, and we'd have a good laugh.

We were the stupid ones. It wasn’t until years later that I realized how tragic this was. This boy had obviously been told repeatedly he was stupid – possibly by a parent. He lived with foster parents for the brief time I knew him.

He was often close by, but never really one of us. After the novelty of prompting his angry outburst wore off, he was nearly invisible. He spent most days catching frogs.

Then Scott moved to the neighborhood and joined our gang. Scott was "normal" and was quickly accepted into the group. The day came when Scott met Stupid.

We snickered and urged Scott to ask his name. "I'm stupid, I'm stupid, I'm stupid!" the boy predictably said. My buddies and I had our laugh, but Scott didn't laugh. He knelt by Stupid who was sitting on the ground playing with a frog. Scott said, "That’s not your name. What's your name?" but he got the same response. Then Scott asked, "What's your frog’s name?” 

Stupid replied that it didn't have a name, and Scott asked, "Can I call him Jumper?"

Stupid's face brightened. Then Scott said, "Hey, can we call you Jumper too?" For a moment, Stupid's face got the angry look and I expected his usual outburst, but then it softened and smiled.

I was suddenly ashamed.

Stupid became Jumper. He still kept to himself most days. If we’d invite him to join us he would usually decline, but sometimes he joined in. It is only a childhood memory, but I seem to recall he smiled more often. If asked his name, he responded the same as always, but we no longer made sport, and even shielded him from being asked.

I never did learn his real name.

He made a powerful impact on me. They say confession is good for the soul. Perhaps I just wanted to unburden myself for this long ago guilt. I’d never told a soul about Stupid before writing this.

I’ve wondered how I might have responded if a parent or authority figure had sternly corrected me for making fun of Stupid. I suspect my behavior would have changed, but quite possibly, NOT my heart.

Instead, providence sent a kind example in one of my peers – and my heart broke before my will.

A broken heart can be good for the soul as well.

© 2017 Joseph E. Fountain

The Merry Wives of Windsor by William Shakespeare

The Merry Wives of Windsor is a comedy by Shakespeare, published in 1602, probably written circa 1597. The setting is early 15^th Century England; we know this as the main character Sir John Falstaff also appears in Henry IV.

Falstaff in the Wastebasket by Henry Fuseli

Falstaff, the fat knight, finds himself financially embarrassed during a stay in Berkshire. To alleviate his condition, he intends to seduce, not one, but two separate, wealthy married women – Mistress Ford, and Mistress Page. Falstaff is obviously a cad, but he is also none too smart in my opinion. He sends nearly identical love letters to the two women, who are intimate friends. They are individually affronted, and collectively outraged by Falstaff’s brazen impudence. They are clever and witty women though. They feign interest in his advances, which leads to comical circumstances and poetic, humiliating justice for Falstaff. He is once hidden in a basket of smelly linen and dumped into the Thames; he is later disguised as a woman and beaten mercilessly as a witch, and eventually disguised as Herne the Hunter, a ghost of Berkshire forest, only to be pinched, poked, and burned by children imitating woodland fairies.

There is a sub-plot. Anne Page, the daughter of Mistress Page, is pursued by three different worthy suitors: one preferred by Mister Page, one preferred by Mistress Page, and one preferred by Anne herself. It’s a comedy; all ends well – so you can probably guess which of the suitors wins Anne.

And even Sir John Falstaff is reconciled to the Windsor community, though justly and severely humbled.

At one point, amongst the comical intrigues, two characters are set to duel: a Parson and a Doctor, but by sending the combatants to different dueling spots, the local innkeeper (Host) spares them both. Later, cooler heads prevail. I liked Host’s explanation of his motive:

Peace I say; hear mine host of the Garter. Am I politic? Am I subtle? Am I a Machiavel? Shall I lose my doctor? No; he gives me the potions and the motions. Shall I lose my parson? My priest? My Sir Hugh? No; he gives me the proverbs and the no-verbs. Give me thy hand, terrestrial; so;  – give me thy hand, celestial, so.  – Boys of art, I have deceived you both; I have directed you to wrong places; your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole, and let burnt sack be the issue. – Come, lay their swords to pawn:  – Follow me, lad of peace; follow, follow, follow.

Phrases from The Merry Wives of Windsor, that are now part of English vernacular:

I hope, upon familiarity will grow more contempt (Familiarity breeds contempt)

Why, then the world’s mine oyster

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