'I am very busy just now, and I desire no distractions,' my friend answered.
--"The Adventure of the Three Students"
I've been working (in theory) on a new story inspired by Arthur Conan Doyle's "The Sealed Room" for two weeks now. I've written a total of 730 words. I've stayed very busy with other things-- the news, idly doom-scrolling on Twitter, drinking tea, experimenting with non traditional flours in baking, reading Doyle's The Stark Munro Letters, reading John Lithgow's Poet's Corner, having coffee and book discussions twice with Sherlockian friends, arranging possibilities for a program for the Sound of the Baskervilles in December, and a few other things. In other words: procrastination fueled by distraction. Today, I acknowedged my failings and had the goal of accomplishing a hopefully interesting blog post about Doyle's gift with writing memorable lines.
I had the pleasure recently of listening to Bob Katz lead a discussion for The Crew of the Barque Lone Star on this topic. Bob noted that Doyle could not only write the brilliant lines that are unforgettable ("'Mr Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!'") but he could also write about mundane things in a way that made them memorable ("'It is a lovely evening, my dear Watson,' said a well-known voice. 'I really think that you will be more comfortable outside than in.'")
One of the best examples I could think of is coal-tar derivatives. ("'Returning to France, I spent some months in a research into the coal-tar derivatives, which I conducted in a laboratory at Montpelier, in the south of France.'") I haven't the faintest idea what a coal-tar derivative is but I never forget that line.
So, this morning, early, I started a list of the brilliant lines no one ever forgets and a few of the more mundane ones that are not quite as well-remembered but are still great ("'...but I confess that I covet your skull.'") That several hour process led me to the idea that perhaps I should limit my listing to quotes from The Hound of the Baskervilles as Doyle was particularly on fire with great phrasing in that novel. That idea reminded me of a project another Bob (Coghill) did about all the different covers used for HOUN over the years. I stopped what I was doing with the quotes to reread Bob's paper which reminded me that the Arthur Conan Doyle encyclopedia has a section about HOUN covers. I then spent some time looking through those pages.
While there, I came across a set of illustrations for HOUN that I have never paid much attention to, the work of Raymond Pallier in Le Petit Journal illustré. At that point, all hope I had for seriously accomplishing very much today vanished. These drawings are so different than what I'm accustomed to for HOUN, I got lost in trying to match the illustrations to the specific parts of the tale. This one befuddled me for a minute as I thought it was an execution:
I then realized, of course, it was this: "In the centre of this room there was an upright beam, which had been
placed at some period as a support for the old worm-eaten balk of timber
which spanned the roof. To this post a
figure was tied, so swathed and muffled in sheets which had been used to
secure it that one could not for the moment tell whether it was that of
a man or a woman. One towel passed round the throat, and was secured at the back of the pillar." I had never pictured the moment as being quite like this drawing. If this is accurate, how did Beryl Stapleton survive until rescued? I think her feet need to be on the floor.
Our hero doesn't look at all like I normally imagine him. Holmes's first coat is a bit ill-fitting and unflattering, and he does not wear a deerstalker, but he is quite handsome in his dinner attire. He apparently has a different coat for mucking about in the mire for Stapleton's boot.
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