Choosing From Among The Best

Arthur Conan Doyle & The Stark Munro Letters

(The Salt Lake Herald, Nov 3, 1894)

 

When Mattias Boström posted the above on Twitter this morning I had to laugh. I read it immediately following a conversation I had concerning this very topic: Is The Stark Munro Letters Doyle's best work? I don't know that I can unequivocally say yes because I haven't read all his work and I'm hardly qualified to make such a broad statement. I am willing to say that of the work I have read, Stark Munro is rapidly becoming my favorite of the lot. The Hound of the Baskervilles was once at the top of my Doyle rereading list. Now it is second on the list. Given a choice, I prefer to read Stark Munro again.

Stark Munro as my favorite Doyle book in no way diminishes my fondness for Sherlock Holmes; he is the foundation of my Sherlockian life, which is a living thing that goes far beyond the texts of a few books. When deep in the texts, though, Stark Munro shines for me.

A look at my working copy of the book (as always, I have one to abuse and one to save) certainly indicates I find value in it:

I have a tendency to put flags in books marking points I wish to remember. I thumb through the books and read around the markers for inspiration when I'm writing. This book gets a lot of attention from me because J. Stark Munro is trying to understand his place in the day-by-day, scratch-out-a-living world and his place in the vastness of the universe. He thinks it is important to understand each place. I do, too.

    My first flag is at the point where J. Stark Munro declares he is all of twenty two years old and

"...in all seriousness, without a touch of levity, and from the bottom of my soul, I assure you that I have at the present moment the very vaguest idea as to whence I have come from, whither I am going, or what I am here for. It is not for want of inquiry, or from indifference."

I am much older that twenty-two but I can only say "Me, too, Johnnie Munro, me, too."  I want the characters I write (outside the confines of the traditional Holmes/Watson pastiche) to have the very vaguest idea as well so that I might give their words and actions a ring of truth readers recognize.

Doyle's prose flows easily in this book. He writes with a deft touch, alternating between the young doctor's daily struggle to make ends meet and his larger struggle to define his faith or lack thereof. J. Stark Munro is a generous, caring man with a wry sense of humor. I would like to have him over for dinner.  

He is very much like Dr. John H. Watson except I think Watson isn't quite so introspective. I'm not sure Watson would have patience for all of Stark Munro's musings. Actually, I would like to have them both to dinner and find out. I have a place for each of them at my table and in my heart.