LY #97 Sherlockian Fannishness

I was first introduced to Mr. Sherlock Holmes in 1966 when I was in 6th Grade.  He was on the case of the Baskerville Hound.  I was  immediately taken by him, as has been much of the civilized planet. According to Don Hobbs, a collector of Holmes books interviewed by CBS for their promotional story last Sunday, the stories have been translated into 98 languages.  (Much of this video, by the way, with Mo Rocca doing interviews at 221 B Con, must have been shot last April.)

The year after I met Sherlock Holmes, I purchased my very first "expensive" book:  a copy of The Complete Sherlock Holmes.  (Around $6.00)  Later, in high school, I would buy another expensive Holmes book:  The Annotated Sherlock Holmes, edited by W.S. Baring-Gould (around $24).  I forget for which one I had to sell my bicycle to afford.  For a short time I became an expert in "the canon."  Actually, it was through the Annotated that I learned the meaning of the word "canon" as it related to something that didn't shoot.

But life happened to me at the end of my junior year in high school.  I became more emotionally invested in people than in fictional characters.  My fannish psychology moved into something that contained elements of its obsessiveness without the safety of its target.  But that's for another post.

Recently, I've come to love the detective again, this time in the shape of Benedict Cumberbatch.   The January 27th New Yorker has a lovely article by Emily Nussbaum that reviews the historical association between Holmes and his fans before discussing the BBC series take on the sociopathic genius and his "love affair" with his number one fan, John Watson.  Like NCIS, the police procedural that's the most popular broadcast TV show in the United States, this reboot of the contemporary Holmes franchise is focused on character relationships more than solving crimes.

I loved the first episode of the 3rd season of Sherlock because it showed, for the first time in any media I can remember, what Watson felt on the return of his friend from death.  I can remember that when I read The Adventure of the Empty House way back in 1966 I was surprised that Watson didn't have much emotional response to the resurrection of his close friend and companion, a death he'd detailed in The Final Problem, his magazine story about Holmes plummeting to glory at the Reichenbach Falls.  (You see, just like other fanatics, I'm now referring to Watson, not Doyle, as the creator of the stories.)   Sherlock's presentation of John's rage at his friend's lack of compassion showed the writers' understanding of human psychology, as did the length of time it took for the two to get back together again. 

And speaking of things that take time, here's a little video collage Tribute to The Hound of the Baskervilles.  I started and abandoned it last spring and finished it this week.

More appropriate to The Empty Hearse is this poem imagining Conan Doyle's visit to the small town near those famous falls of Reichenbach.  I wrote it several years ago and in it hoped to express Doyle's hatred of his more famous creation.

Poem (c) Kake Huck 2008

CONAN DOYLE AT MEIRINGEN, SWITZERLAND, 1891

A man is no Napoleon, no sweet

Served after dinner: though introspective
His work and worth should satisfy like meat

Not mille feuille flat and folded, puffy pleats
Of sugared dough and custard.  The objective
Of creation is social change. So sweet

May be successful, but fame is fleet
As after-dinner comfort.  Collective
Tastes are fickle.  What satisfies like meat

Today is tasteless tomorrow.  They eat
and leave.  No publisher’s directive
turns a writer to Napoleon. Sweet

freedom demands action! Time to meet
my destiny without his protective
fame.  Life without him will be my meat.

Neither these Falls nor my Doctor was effective
In murdering the world’s greatest detective.
I was that crime’s Napoleon, and sweet
the work and words that turn him into meat.