Arthur Conan Doyle - The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

This was my first concentrated dose of Sherlock Holmes.  That’s different from my first dose, mind you. Before this I had read A Study in Scarlet  and The Sign of Four, had even seen some of the movies. But those were solitary forays into the great detective’s world and forays, especially in the films’ case, that revealed less of Holmes than they did of flash and explosions. Reading The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes is a rather different experience. There are fewer explosions, though I expected that. There is also more of Holmes’ genius on display, or at least enough of it on display in a far wider variety of settings and with less background noise that it is far more radiant. There is also just, well, more. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes presents twelve examples of a formula honed to perfection, one more than capable of dazzling – and yet still very recognizably a formula, and, as such, one that grows grating long before the collection’s end.

Before we get to that, though, we have to discuss Holmes’ deductions. They are brilliant. Better than that, they are a joy to read about. These are not the kinds of mysteries where the reader is neck and neck with the detective in the race to put together the answer. There is no competition. Rather, the reader does their best and then watches Holmes zip ahead of them at impossible speeds. Strangely enough, the best instances of Holmes’ ability are not the most dramatic. Indeed, it’s when there’s nothing much at stake, when it’s not a matter of a crucial detail misinterpreted but one overlooked entirely, or when Holmes reads a life from clothes and details, that the detective is at his most awe inspiring.

The cases that we encounter are a fitting trial for the great detective. Of course, the crimes are preposterous, with just about every criminal expending energy completely disproportional to their goal in their quest to find the most bizarre ways to reach their objective. But that doesn’t matter when compared to the puzzles, which soon prove themselves ingenious to the point of elegance. Doyle slips in and out of different genres with the specifics of the criminals and their objectives, and, even if each is flattened into a lock with a tricky combination when Holmes enters the scene, it’s still fun to see the lovers in “A Scandal in Bohemia,” the bald-faced absurdity that is just cocky enough to work of “The Adventure of the Red-Headed League,” and the pseudo-Gothic nature of “The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb.”

But the sheer number of these cases and the deductions that follow – or, more accurately, the way the deductions always appear at the exact same spot in the exact same structure – is impossible to ignore. Kyle Freeman, the volume’s editor and quite the Holmes expert, agrees that it’s a key part of the stories but offers a positive interpretation. To avoid the risk of caricaturing it, I’ll provide it in full:

This plot repetition, which might seem a weakness, turns out to be a strength. It contributes to that sense of solidness we get from this world in which logic triumphs over superstition, and where justice in one form or another is meted out to violators of the social order. The sense of order that runs through this world is one of the great satisfactions of these stories (p. XXII).

It’s a fair point. There is a way in which the repetition of logic is the very stuff that makes up its triumph. Holmes’ victory is not a fluke. Clear thought, when applied, can always, Doyle tells us, best the darkness in man.

And yet, as repetition adds that thematic depth, it also serves to thematically flatten Holmes’ reason for all of this crime fighting and one of the story’s facets that was most interesting to me. Holmes is not simply a moralist. Though he passes moral judgments, he does not fight crime because it is the right thing to do. Rather, stopping evil is, for him, a way to escape boredom, to find purpose in life. He is as much a thrill seeker, if not more so, than any of the criminals that he contends with. It is a way to escape from the commonplaces of existence (p. 224), a love of all that is bizarre and outside the conventions and humdrum routine of everyday life (p. 206). As Holmes puts it at the end of one case, The only way we have still to solve is how to while away these bleak autumnal evenings (p. 358).

My attraction to this side of Holmes is likely obvious to regular readers of this blog. In a way, Sherlock Holmes is like an inverted piece of Weird Fiction, with Holmes knowing that there has to be more to life and yet only being able to approach (and never reach) that more by ruthlessly cutting down any attempt to deviate from the mundane rules of everyday existence that he seeks to escape. What a paradox!

But, outside of fantastic sentences about autumnal evenings, there is no sense of any of this in the stories. The repetitive structures kill it. We come in as the case begins, and we end as it is solved. There is no sense of life outside of them, no contrast. Holmes speaks of normal life and drearily (existentially?) unfilled evenings, but we never see him when he’s not matching wits against a foe, and so it’s a bit hard to take that as anything more than talk.

The main problem with the repetition, though, is far simpler: it’s repetitive. Horrifically so. The excitement of the hunt bleeds out once the reader realizes that they are, if not exactly running on the same track each time, at least running at the same speed and passing the same landmarks at the same points.

This is compounded in the most infuriating of fashions by Doyle’s habit of not only telling the reader what to think with alarming regularity but also repeating sentences and ideas almost verbatim from story to story. In “The Five Orange Pips,” Holmes says: “I think, Watson,” he remarked at last, “that of all our cases we have had none more fantastic than this” (p. 266). In “The Adventure of the Speckled Band”: Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall any which presented more singular features than that which was associated with the well-known Surrey family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran (p. 307). In “The Red-Headed League”: In the present instance I am forced to admit that the facts are, to the best of my belief, unique (p. 207).

Those aren’t the only places a nearly exact variant of that appears, and that is not the only phrase that pops back up. Let’s try this one: The more featureless and commonplace a crime is, the more difficult it is to bring home (p. 240). How, exactly, does that differ in meaning from: It is your commonplace, featureless crimes which are really puzzling (p. 215)? Or: there is nothing so unnatural as the commonplace (p. 225)? And so on and on and on. Any chance the reader has of viewing the new tale as anything but a retread of the old one is dashed when the exact same superlatives are applied by the same people in the same way almost every damn time.

By the point I was halfway through The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, I had a very simple way to tell if I would like a story before I had even turned the first page. I asked myself: how long has it been since I read a Sherlock Holmes story? For the tale’s opener, the answer was over a year, and I loved the thing. For the fourth in a row (it was a long train ride, and I hadn’t brought anything else to read), I was ready to chuck the book at Watson for saying how odd it all was for the umpteen-thousandth time.

I think that my final thoughts on the collection, and in the review, really come from that. Sherlock Holmes stories excel at what they do, but they only do one thing, and they do it over and over again. I highly recommend that any mystery fans read a story of his. I wouldn’t recommend at all that they follow that first story up with another without a very healthy pause between them. So, following, my own advice, I may return to Sherlock Holmes again – but I think I’ll wait at least a year before I do.

[Note: all page numbers are from the Barnes & Noble Classics edition of The Complete Sherlock Holmes, Volume 1. Those interested in reading the tales, though, might be interested to know that they are freely available online at places like ProjectGutenberg.]

Arthur Conan Doyle - A Study in Scarlet

“Get your hat,” [Holmes] said.

“You wish me to come?”

“Yes, if you have nothing better to do.” (p. 166)

A Study in Scarlet is where two of literature’s most iconic characters, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, first meet and where those characters were first introduced to the reading public. Today, of course, there’s no pressing need to experience Holmes first through here, as all the stories are published – and, besides, it’s damn unlikely that anyone today could not have at least a passable familiarity with the name of Holmes, if not the stories themselves – but it’s still a logical point to jump into the mythos for newcomers, of which I am most certainly one. So, does A Study in Scarlet do justice to the legend that it was the beginning of? Despite a few flaws, it does.

I’ve heard several times that the Sherlock Holmes stories are told through the point of view of Watson, rather than Holmes, in order to distance us from Holmes’s intellect and to preserve the tension, and I don’t think that’s by any means untrue, but Holmes isn’t the all powerful superman that you might think. Though undoubtedly a genius when it comes to affairs deductive, Holmes doesn’t quite have the same skills in the social arena. He comes off as cocksure and boastful, something not mollified by Watson’s fawning. Of course, the man’s arrogance is intentional on Doyle’s part, and the text is far stronger for avoiding such an obvious white knight pitfall.

A Study in Scarlet is a mystery story through and through, and the prose reflects that. Doyle’s writing is precise and packed with detail. Holmes’s outlook is a purely rational one, but Watson too is a logical creature. When first confronted by Holmes, he tries to solve the mystery of his companion by organizing a list of his traits:

Sherlock Holmes – his limits

1. Knowledge of Literature. – Nil
2. Philosophy. – Nil
3. Politics. – Feeble
4. Botany. – Variable. Well up in belladonna, opium, and poisons generally. Knows nothing of practical gardening.
5. Geology. – Practical, but limited. Tells at a glance different soils from each other. After he walks has shown me splashes upon his trousers, and told me by their colour and consistence in what part of London he had received them.

[And so forth] (p. 156)

But the true marvel is that Doyle’s prose, though meticulous, is not dry. A Study in Scarlet comes alive on the page, turning a genre that all too often falls into an interesting but uninvolving logic puzzle into a page turner, albeit one more reminiscent of a jigsaw puzzle than a car chase.

Holmes has an annoying, though in character, habit of revealing nothing of what he’s thinking until it’s wholly formalized, but, when combining that with Doyle’s formidable skills at pacing, the tension is built up to vast levels as all other theories fall apart and events leap into motion, the reader still clueless but convinced that there is, somewhere, a coherent explanation to be found.

Unfortunately, Doyle’s greatest skill is in the viewpoint of Watson and observing the character of Holmes. When, after the halfway mark, Doyle switches to a third person flashback to reveal the backgrounds of other characters, we find ourselves leaving everything previously established long behind. A compellingly evoked London is left behind for a shoddily and inaccurately rendered Mormon exodus, and, though the story does eventually build up some power of its own, nothing in this strand is a tenth as memorable or gripping as a twitch of Holmes’s pinky.

Is it possible for the reader to piece together the clues themselves? Not a chance in hell. I suppose that it’s a measure of Holmes’s intellect that he can take such minute clues and build such a complete picture of them, and, as we’re inhabiting Watson’s and not Holmes’s head, I suppose that’s fair game. What’s more irksome are the clues that are in no way supplied, such as Holmes’s correspondence, in which a huge part of the puzzle can be found. Still, it’s not a deal breaker, and the immense, yet rational, logical leaps that Holmes undertakes make it feel silly to say that I would’ve had even the slightest chance of keeping up with him anyway.

Of course, there is the spare piece of the puzzle that doesn’t quite add up. For instance, we’re shown time and time again that Holmes can read a life story from the grit under one’s fingernails – so how is he fooled by a young man dressing up as an old woman and enfeebling his voice? Seriously? I’m sorry, but I’m just having trouble believing that a man that can read profession from footsteps could be stumped by a white wig.

A Study in Scarlet isn’t a perfect beginning, but it is an intriguing one, and I’m looking forward to reading more Holmes stories. Though I’m not well read enough in the detective’s mythos to truly say whether this is the best starting point or not, it’s most certainly a compelling story with no background knowledge required. If you’ve got any interest in the mystery genre, this is required reading.

[Note: All page numbers came from The Annotated Sherlock Holmes]

Reading in October

Generally a good month, starting some interesting series and wrapping up some others, as well as quite a few collections and stand alones. No Breaking New Ground books this time around, but I haven't abandoned those and will fit in some more next month.


Daniel Abraham is fast becoming, in my opinion, the ultimate unsung hero of epic fantasy. Tor never published a paperback version of The Price of Spring, and yet The Long Price was a series almost unmatched for its decisive pacing and marvelous, evolving characterization. Leviathan Wept, a collection of Abraham’s short fiction, lives up to the lofty expectations any reader of his previous work no doubt has. Review coming.


Close this tab. I’ve heard that Barker – close this tab – is a master of horror for years, and this (closethistab) is the first work of his that I’ve read. I’m closethistab more confused than awed, though. As far as I can tell shutoffyourbrowser this is a fairly standard, meandering and unexciting novel, albeit occasionally an amusing one, that’s rendered almost unbearable by the book’s nonstop begging (don’t read the rest) for you to put it down, putting you in the mood to do nothing so much as throw the book at the wall and yell (one last chance, close this tab): Alright, Mr. Barker, I think I will!


Jonathon Strange & Mr Norrell is a beautifully written novel. It’s more than a little meander happy, but excellent nonetheless. This is one of the very rare books that I can seriously call delightful every time I open it up. Not perfect, no, but dazzling enough to make up for that.


The Passage, at least in terms of marketing, seems like this year’s big novel. I did enjoy it, but I didn’t love it. Review coming.


My first Sherlock Holmes story is a success. Despite some pacing problems, I’m already looking forward to reading more of Doyle’s stories. Review coming.


The Halfmade World ran roughshod over my expectations. I was expecting good, very good even, and it delivered great. Comparing The Halfmade World to Thunderer is like comparing night and day. And that’s coming from someone who really liked Thunderer. Review coming.


I really, really love some aspects of Hamilton’s writing. And I really, really hate some other aspects. Judas Unchained seems to have magnified just about every good and bad tendency of its creators, and my opinion is mixed, though I did enjoy the read. Review of it and Pandora’s Star coming.


I always find M.R. James’s writing to be engrossing, but the reason isn’t the scare factor. There is something about James’s style, part formal antique and part colloquial, that makes me feel like the man is sitting across from me, telling me his experiences first hand. That isn’t, by the way, to suggest that these stories are tame. There are a few that the reader desensitized by the loudness and often excessiveness of modern horror will, sadly, find a bit hard to feel the horror of (I think the modern standard is for the doll’s to brutally murder at least three people; wood replaying old tragedies in the night simply isn’t bloody enough), but there are no weak stories here…

Except for the first tale in the collection, The Residence at Whitminister, which, for some reason, I found almost impenetrable. I’m not sure if this is a result of James’s writing or simply me being unused to his style after a long hiatus, but a reread did not solve the problem, and I’m left with a collection of out of order facts and occurrences without the slightest emotional thread to tie them together.


Newton’s debut is ambitious, well written, and not without the occasional flaw. Review here.


I loved The Folding Knife, and I went into The Engineer Trilogy with very, very high expectations. Devices and Desires is very good, and has quite a few very interesting elements, but it also has a few aspects that I’m more hesitant upon. All the same, I’m looking forward to starting Evil for Evil in a few days. Review coming when I finish the trilogy.