rating: 5/5 stars
~
highly concerned that mary just disappeared mid-way through so i guess the moral is you can't keep the gays apart?

Fascinating to read and also very good for vocabulary. I think I will add a list of all the new words I learnt in this review, later.

Thanks for lending this to me, Julia!

Doyle Goes Romantic

In his first Holmes’ story, Doyle sticks to a fairly realistic even naturalistic tone, in keeping with Holmes’ personal dislike for the emotional: “Love is an emotional thing, and whatever is emotional is opposed to that true cold reason which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgment” ( 235). Thus he’s not happy when Dr. Watson quickly falls in love with the supposed heiress in this story, then dithers that he can’t propose because she will be much more wealthy than a military doctor retired at half pay. For a man whose broad “experience of women extends over many nations and three separate continents” (131) this seems a cockeyed quibble, especially as he bristles when Holmes’ blandly states that no woman should be trusted. However, male egos are fragile where money is concerned, and even love can’t surmount the hurdle, which is fortunately removed when it’s revealed that she won’t be an heiress after all.

Once again there are two separate but connected narratives: the first features Holmes’ solution of the murder of Bartholomew Sholto under mysterious circumstances, and the second provides the exotic background of the murderer and the treasure, taking the reader to the “hideous” natives of the Andaman Islands and the Sepoy Mutiny in India (1857-58). The tone of this story is that of Gothic romance, as even one of the characters comments: “It is a romance…An injured lady, half a million in treasure, a black cannibal, and wooden-legged ruffian. They take the place of the conventional dragon or wicked earl…And two knights-errant to the rescue” (188). She needn’t mention the isolated, gloomy mansion with its high walls, constant references to fear and mystery, exotic locales, a dangerous chase, and other panoply of sentimental novels, complemented by Dr. Watson’s unexpected romance.

However, the story begins with bored Sherlock about to shoot himself up with his 7% cocaine solution because “no qualities save those which are commonplace have any function upon earth (130)… My mind…rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work...and I am in my own proper atmosphere. I can dispense then with artificial stimulants…I crave for mental exaltation” (124). Holmes critiques Watson’s overly romantic version of the Jefferson Hope murder (“Study in Scarlet”) and suggests more attention be placed on his own “curious analytical reasoning from effects to causes,” prompting Watson to muse on Holmes’ “small vanity” (125). Holmes mentions the various monographs he’s written on technical aspects of crime (126) and performs a clever analysis of the previous owner of Watson’s watch, noting, “I never guess. It is a shocking habit--destructive to the logical faculty,” when one should “observe the small facts upon which large inferences may depend” (129). Other of Holmes’ unexpected abilities and contacts are scattered throughout the novel, from his pugilistic skills to athletic ability to playing the violin, his comprehensive network of contacts who provide bloodhounds, small street urchins who serve as spies, or even his ability to show up in a disguise that fools Watson (196).

Unexpectedly, a charming, determined but nervous young woman, Mary Morstan, arrives to report her father’s mysterious disappearance ten years previously (1878) after returning from the Andaman Islands. Six years ago (1882) she started to receive a precious pearl every year “without any clue as to the sender” (133), and now she’s received a letter stating, “You are a wronged woman and shall have justice. Do not bring police” (134). Holmes can see from the handwriting on the letter and the boxes it is the same person, so of course he’s eager to accompany her to the mysterious meeting. After a little research, he discovers that the pearls started coming on the date that Major Sholto, a close military friend of Mary’s father, died, and Mary cleverly hands him a mysterious paper found among her father’s effects, listing Jonathan Small and three Indian names beside a brief map.

In this Gothic-tinged romance, London is socked in with a “dense drizzly fog…lamps were but misty splotches of diffused light….something eerie and ghostlike in the endless procession of faces which flitted across these narrow bars of light…made me nervous and depressed” (138-9). They meet a strange man at the theatre, who takes them on an extended trip to “a questionable and forbidding neighbourhood,” a final part of “the monster tentacles which the giant city was throwing out into the country” (140). They enter a surprisingly decadent, luxurious, oriental interior, “an oasis of art in the howling desert of South London” (141), where their host, Thaddeus, is equally bizarre. He’s one of Major Sholto’s twin sons, and his brother Bartholomew lives secreted in his father’s gloomy mansion, where he’s been searching for the treasure for years. His father had been terrorized in 1882 by a letter he received from India, which caused him to sicken and die. Near death he called his sons to reveal that after his death Mary Morstan should receive part of a treasure he and Morstan shared. When Morstan died by a heart attack while they argued over the division of the treasure, Sholto feared he would be accused of murder, so he hid the body and treasure. Then he glanced at the window, shrieked in horror at a “bearded, hairy face, with wild cruel eyes and an expression of concentrated malevolence” (147) and died. Later the brothers find a scrap of paper with “the sign of the four” on it, similar to the note found in Morstan’s papers. Thaddeus convinced his greedy brother to allow him to send Mary a pearl each year; to do otherwise would be in bad taste because ‘Le mauvais goût mène au crime’”( 148). Now that Bartholomew has located the treasure, Thaddeus and Mary need to go and claim their share.

At the door, the ex-boxer/guard lets them in only because he recognizes Holmes from an amateur match they fought for his retirement benefit (152). In familiar Gothic tradition “the great black house” was filled in “the silent night with the saddest and most pitiful of sounds--the shrill, broken whimpering of a frightened woman.” Watson and Morstan hold hands as she instinctively turns to him in their “hour of trouble…there was peace in our hearts for all the dark things that surrounded us” (153). But Bartholomew has locked himself in and doesn’t answer; peering through the keyhole they see a face “whose features were set..in a horrible smile, a fixed and unnatural grin” (155), which of course looks like that of Thaddeus. The ceiling had been opened, as that was where the treasure had been hidden, and on the body is another note with the words “sign of the four.” The treasure is missing, and Holmes, quickly spotting a thorn stuck in the man’s neck, realizes it held poison. Holmes thinks he’s unraveled the murder and proceeds to tell Watson how the criminal entered and left, as well as pointing out the strange nature of small footprints. He realizes two persons were involved and creates suspense as to the nature of the second man, “I fancy this ally breaks fresh ground in the annals of crime in this country--though parallel cases suggest themselves from India” (159). Of course, neither the reader nor Watson is let in on any specifics that Holmes has detected.

Now Athelney Jones enters for the obligatory comedy with the London constabulary; he pompously determines via “common sense” that Thaddeus is the murderer and arrests everyone in the house as accessories; later comes the also obligatory parody of a newspaper report in which Jones is given full credit for quickly apprehending the criminal due to his “technical knowledge and his powers of minute observation…in his vigorous and masterful mind” (183), only to be followed by the obligatory return of Jones humbly seeking Holmes’ help when his suspect turns out to have a strong alibi. Holmes comforts Thaddeus that he’ll provide the real murderer, the “poorly educated convict” (165) Jonathan Small with his wooden leg, and hints at a strange second person. Holmes pulls Watson aside to send him to pick up the bloodhound Toby, but first to escort Miss Morstan home. Doyle tweaks his readers’ sentimentality by now making the two feel uncomfortable: “she thought me cold and distant upon that journey. She little guessed the struggle within my breast, or the effort of self-restraint which held me back…She was weak and helpless, shaken in mind and nerve. It was to take her at a disadvantage to obtrude love upon her at such a time. Worse still, she was rich…Might she not look upon me as a mere vulgar fortune-seeker?…This Agra treasure intervened like an impassable barrier between us” (167). While it’s possible a less sophisticated man might have such thoughts, they seem improbable in the more subtle Watson, but they reflect standard emotions and situations in sentimental novels. Following is an obligatory, touching scene between her and the woman for whom she’s a governess, “it was soothing to catch even that passing glimpse of a tranquil English home in the midst of the wild, dark business which had absorbed us” (168) opines Watson.

But enough of sentiment. Next comes a local-color, comic, character study of the eccentric man who loans Holmes the bloodhound, followed by more comedy when the bloodhound follows the wrong scent, “Poor Toby is not to blame” (178), but leaves them close to a wharf where their suspect stopped. Another of Holmes’ improbable skills is his clambering up on the roof to recreate the criminal’s route and pick up further clues, then explaining to dumbfounded Watson that Jonathan Small, an Englishman and member of the four, had been a convict when Morstan and Sholto were guards, and from him they learned of the treasure, made a pact to retrieve it, and give him his share along with freedom. But Sholto took the treasure to England; when Morstan arrived to get his portion, he died unexpectedly. Meanwhile, Small managed to escape from prison and came to England to get his revenge on Major Sholto and take the treasure, with no interest in killing either Morstan or Bartholomew Sholto. Holmes states that leaving the note was “something in the nature of an act of justice,” (174), whimsical and bizarre but relevant to his nature, and the nature of justice will be explored further toward the novel’s end.

Holmes demonstrates his psychological acumen by giving some money to the son of the wife of the man whose boat has been rented by Small, softening her so he can nonchalantly chat her up to get the boat’s description, as well as that of the man who had rented it: “The main thing with people of that sort...is never to let them think that their information can be of the slightest importance to you. If you do they will instantly shut up like an oyster” (181). Using clues he found in the room of the murder, he now tells Watson that Small’s partner is an Adaman native from the island where the prison was located. When they get word Small’s boat is leaving, Detective Jones willingly lets Holmes use their boat for a frantic chase on the Thames, “such a wild thrill as this mad, flying man-hunt down the Thames” (203) that ends with Small’s capture, but not before he tosses the treasure into the river, where Tonga, the Adaman native, also ends up when he’s shot by Holmes and Watson as he aims a blowpipe at them. Watson is dispatched with the chest to Morstan, “her whole pose and figure spoke of an absorbing melancholy” (208); she opens it in another scene exploiting Watson’s financial worries before they discover the chest is empty, so he can make his fervid avowal, “I love you, Mary as truly as ever a man loved a woman” (211).

Then it’s time for an obligatory recitation of the criminal’s history, so Holmes can catalog it in his memory for use in subsequent crimes, and the explication of any unresolved items. After getting in trouble with a young girl, Small was inducted into the army and sent to India, where an alligator bit off his leg, leaving him a crippled veteran. He found work, but immediately his “bad luck” recurred in the form of the 1857-58 Indian Mutiny, destroying his employment. As a historian, Doyle provides fascinating details of this event, which stirred up all England and caused the British government to take over India from the East India Company, ending the Mughals’ rule and beginning the British Raj. During the turmoil Small retreated to the Agra fortress where he’s assigned two Sikhs, who have a scheme to rob the jewels that a raja was sending to the fort for safe-keeping. Small swore an oath to share the treasure with them, and although reluctant to kill the messenger, nonetheless participated, “Whether Achmet the merchant lived or died was a thing as light as air to me, but at the talk about the treasure my heart turned to it” (221). However, the men were identified by a second servant of the raja, arrested and sentenced to the penal colony in the Adaman Islands. The opportunistic Small noticed that Sholto has been losing heavily at cards and was in bad enough shape that Small could tempt him with the treasure if he helped him escape. Sholto brought in his friend Morstan and then skipped out with the treasure. After Small, who gained some knowledge working for the prison doctors, saved the native Tonga from dying by treating him with British medicines, he gained the man’s undying gratitude and help to escape by his canoe; finally they reached London.

Small constantly complains about the injustice of his treasure being taken from him by the two English officers, who did nothing to gain it, and the fact that he’s been imprisoned for most of his life; however, he seemed indifferent that he acquired the treasure by participation in a murder, for which he was sentenced to Adaman prison, and his behavior in England also resulted in murder, even if he hadn’t wanted it to occur. His obstinate belief that he deserves the treasure was also the attitude of many British serving in India, tempted by the rajas’ wealth and willing to exploit Indian peasants’ labor. The complex reasons for the Indian Mutiny, involving as they do larger questions of British prejudices, character flaws and “justice” with regard to the Indians they have conquered and exploited, provide another level to the story about Small’s grievances. However, British guilt is not specifically addressed by Doyle in a story written to tantalize and amuse the reader, but as a historian he cannot have avoided it if he considered the affair from the Indians’ viewpoint, which is one of the ways Holmes resolves his crimes. Major Scholto, an officer who broke his agreement with Small and took the money, showed himself completely deficient in honor and morality, but his punishment was only a life stymied by his greed and his conscience which reminded him of his guilt whenever he saw a man with a wooden leg.

The novel is free from overt racism and sexism, except when it is inherent in a character. The British officers who abscond with the treasure have little concern about theft from the Indians involved in the “four” or even from Small, who is a convict and thus without social standing. Even Holmes isn’t free of prejudice against women, whom he’s determined never to marry as they’ll ruin his objectivity; he encourages Watson not to tell Morstan too much about what they’re discovering, “‘Women are never to be entirely trusted--not the best of them.’ I did not pause to argue over this atrocious sentiment,” (188) Watson thinks. The description of people from the Andaman Islands reflects the period’s prejudice, with its declaration they’re “naturally hideous, having large, misshapen heads, small fierce eyes, and distorted features” (186) and Watson’s description of “features so deeply marked with all bestiality and cruelty” (204). While it’s historically accurate that they were fierce toward outsiders and practiced cannibalism, their physical features are not abnormal and hideous as the description implies, other than their skin is black and heads shaped differently from those of Europeans.

While the novel isn’t mired in obvious historical prejudices, nonetheless Doyle feels it necessary to warn the reader about class prejudices when he has Holmes comment on dock workers, “Dirty-looking rascals, but I suppose every one has some little immortal spark concealed about him. You would not think it to look at them. There is no a priori probability about it. A strange enigma is man” (201). He further expands this by citing Winwood Reade who says that “the individual man is an insoluble puzzle, in the aggregate he becomes a mathematical certainty…You can never foretell what any one man will do….Individuals vary, but percentages remain constant” (202), which perhaps explains Holmes’ comment on Small that he has a “certain degree of low cunning, but I did not think him capable of anything in the nature of delicate finesse. That is usually a product of higher education” (199).” While Holmes is willing to exploit and pay ragged, barefoot street urchins to serve as his spies, he makes it clear they shouldn’t all come upstairs and annoy the landlady. The officers escape any censure for their willingness to cheat Small and the Sikhs, their fates being decided by chance in the form of their health and or Sholto’s guilty conscience, but the same isn’t true for Small. However, Watson, the standard English “Everyman” comments, “For myself, I confess that I had now conceived the utmost horror of the man not only for this cold-blooded business...but even more for the somewhat flippant and careless way in which he narrated it. Whatever punishment was in store for him, I felt that he might expect no sympathy from me” (223), and Holmes’ facial disgust indicates his agreement. Even the seemingly prejudice-free Holmes cannot quite escape the straitjacket of conventional English attitudes toward lower-class criminals and the willingness to quietly overlook (or leave to fate) crimes of the upper class.

Sherlock Holmes has always been a favorite of mine since I was a kid. Watched all the old Basil Rathbone movies, decided to finally pick up the book.
Holmes did not disappoint. What a fun read between my other books. Onto Vol 2.

I would honestly give this 4.5 stars if it was an option. It is not a collection that I would generally recommend reading all at once, and while I read a lot of it recently, I did break it up a bit.

One of the things to love about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's writing is the collection of interesting names! Another is the phrase (in one of the books): "the curious incident of the dog in the nighttime..." you may know to what that references. : )

His writing is well worth the time to enjoy!
~*~

My collection included the following Novels and Short Stories:
n  A Study in Scarletn ... a bit gruesome and certainly more so than most of his work.
n  The Sign of the Fourn
n  The Adventures of Sherlock Holmesn including the following short stories:
>A Scandal in Bohemia
>The Red-Headed League
>A Case of Identity
>The Boscombe Valley Mystery
>The Five Orange Pips
>The Man with the Twisted Lip
>The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle
>The Adventure of the Speckled Band
>The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb
>The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor
>The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet
>The Adventure of the Copper Beeches
The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes including another collection of short stories:
>Silver Blaze
>The Yellow Face
>The Stock-Broker’s Clerk
>The “Gloria Scott”
>The Musgrave Ritual
>The Reigate Puzzle
>The Crooked Man
>The Resident Patient
>The Greek Interpreter
>The Naval Treaty
>The Final Problem
The Return of Sherlock Holmes
>The Adventure of the Empty House
>The Adventure of the Norwood Builder
>The Adventure of the Dancing Men
>The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist
>The Adventure of the Priory School
>The Adventure of Black Peter
>The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton
>The Adventure of the Six Napoleons
>The Adventure of the Three Students
>The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez
>The Adventure of the Missing Three-Quarter
>The Adventure of the Abbey Grange
>The Adventure of the Second Stain
The Hound of the Baskervilles

Kocham to

4.5 stars

It's finally finished! And really, what can I possibly say about Sherlock Holmes that hasn’t already been said?

Conan Doyle's many beloved novels and short stories are simply timeless. Intricate plots, marvelous sleuthing abilities, and stories that keep you guessing until the very end. I can’t see how anyone wouldn’t enjoy the many adventures of Dr. Watson and Sherlock Holmes, even slightly.

I do however feel I need to explain that I rarely give out half stars, and when I do it's because of mixed feelings. I devoured this book, and I can't think of a single negative aspect but I just don't think I can give it a full five stars. I realized probably half way through that pacing was the best course of action for this one.

Overall though, such brilliant stories.

I just need to get my hands on Volume II..

Not a review but notes written for the sole enjoyment of Dr. Snort:

1. Read both Volume I and II in one sitting, which severely diminished my reading pleasure. Nobody to blame but myself, but I was determined to finish every single story because I was afraid I'd abandon it if I took a break to read something else.

2. Sherlock Holmes is easily one of the most enigmatic characters to exist in literature. I see why many rational adults worship him.

3. But Sir Arthur Conan Doyle belongs to the "tell, don't show" category of writers. Descriptions of characters practically cartoonish.

4. I found it difficult to ignore the ethnocentrism that permeates these stories, though as an Enid Blyton veteran, I wasn't too bothered by them. Uncertain about the relevance, and even the importance of these stories in the 21st century and beyond. We need a new Sherlock Holmes for the 21st century; surly, laconic Scandinavian/Scottish detectives battling inner demons need not apply.

5. Moby Dick next?

A genius with passion, perhaps obsession, with forensic puzzles. Sherlock Holmes. What a wonderful creation! The villains: a woman who duped him, a crazy freak with a nervous laugh, a terrifying gang-leader named Moriarty. Only three of a plethora of villains. I love everything about these stories: the plots, the mysteries, the three-dimensional characters, the excitement, the wisdom. I can't wait to read the second book next year.

Whether it is the introduction of Holmes and Watson from "The Study in Scarlet," the intriguing "The Sign of Four," or the infamous encounters with Irene Adler and Professor Moriarty, these stories are rich, engaging, well-scripted and thoroughly enjoyable. The format of many short stories in rapid succession keeps things fresh while continuing to present Holmes' uncanny abilities and tales one after another.

The writing still feels fresh, the vocabulary extraordinary and the banter and mysteries just as relevant and exciting now as I'd imagine they were in the 19th century.

5 stars.

You get used to his style once past the first story, but, remarkably, it never wears down. I found The Hound of the Baskervilles to be overrated though. Too gimmicky! Although it is the one story I felt did the best job of making the environment a central character in the plot. Perhaps having been influenced by the good detective, I saw the villain (and his motive) coming a mile away.

The Man with the Twisted Lip was my favourite.

[Insert appropriate quip about games and a foot]

Lucky are the people who are yet to read the tales of Mr Holmes and Dr Watson for the first time! Even though I remember reading some of the stories long back, the crisp writing and elaborate scene-setting of Sir Doyle always does the charm. Some of the explanations may challenge the logician inside you, but the writer inside you will keep on turning the pages.

This was the first collection of stories in which I shifted to its audiobook for some of the tales. Even if you are not a fan of audiobooks, try listening to some of the stories (especially 'Sign of Four') in Audible. Nothing compensates the boring house chores better than these stories told by Stephen Fry.