You may do what you like, Doctor...

'You may do what you like, Doctor.'

 

 

 

Towards the end of A Study in Scarlet, Holmes explains his reasoning which allowed him to identify and corral Jefferson Hope. It is a great moment because it is, as far as I can tell, the first time Watson thinks about writing an account of Sherlock Holmes for publication:

'It is wonderful!' I cried.  'Your merits should be publicly recognized. You should publish an account of the case. If you won't, I will for you.' 'You may do what you like, Doctor,' he answered.

 Of course, Holmes didn't exactly mean what he said; we know he complained about Watson's writings on more than one occasion, often slowing the publication of a particular adventure, or preventing the publication entirely with his "own aversion to publicity." I've thought a great deal recently about Holmes giving Watson carte blanche as I've worked on first draft edits for the submissions to the new anthology, Sherlock Holmes: Into the Fire. 

I've spent an inordinate amount of time thinking, reading, and researching questions such as: Did Holmes mean he was undercover all of 1912 when he told Watson  in August 1914 he had been undercover for two years as Altamont ("It has cost me two years, Watson, but they have not been devoid of excitement.") 

A specific plot point in one of the tales for Fire depends on historical events in 1912. Can Holmes be available to do something for two to three days in early 1912? I laugh a little when I type this because I know for sure Arthur Conan Doyle wouldn't care about the question. Note this paragraph from his How I Write My Books article in The Strand Magazine (December 1924):

In short stories it has always seemed to me that so long as you produce your dramatic effect, accuracy of detail matters little. I have never striven for it and have made some bad mistakes in consequence. What matter If I can hold my readers? I claim that I may make my own conditions, and I do so. I have taken liberties in some of the Sherlock Holmes stories. I have been told, for example, that in "The Adventure of Silver Blaze," half the characters would have been in jail and the other half warned off the Turf for ever. That does not trouble me in the least when the story is admittedly a fantasy.

His declaration is followed immediately with "It is otherwise where history is brought in. Even in a short story one should be accurate there." I decided to agree with him. The author will keep the historical events of 1912 in place in her story, and we will accept the fantasy of Holmes being available in early 1912 for three days. 

Playing the Sherlockian "game" gets complicated at times. Of course, we know (all too well) half the fun of Sherlockiana is found in such complications.  These sorts of questions are, for me, the fun part of serving as editor for a new collection of Sherlock Holmes adventures.

The copy editing is another thing entirely, and, honestly, rarely as much fun. Fortunately for me, the authors contributing to the project are doing good work. The not-as-fun part is not as drawn out as it could be otherwise. Grammar, spelling and punctuation must be seen to as best we can. I have a jingle I sometimes repeat; it is also on a sticky note on my computer:

Anyway, it was so very like that there and it was just because of that passive verb especially what it had been.

The jingle is a reminder of a few writing evils I search for when reading the texts. Doyle doesn't mention copy editing in his article about how he writes. No great surprise there. Watson's wife does call her husband "James" rather than John.

I do wish we could match Doyle for speed in the creation of the book:

As I grow older I lose some power of sustained effort, but I remember that I once did ten thousand words of "The Refugees" in twenty-four hours. It was the part where the Grand Monarch was between his two mistresses, and contains as sustained an effort as I have ever made. Twice I have written forty-thousand-word pamphlets in a week, but in each case I was sustained by a burning indignation, which is the best of all driving power.

The world today is full of burning indignation, especially on social media. I have a feeling if Doyle were writing now, the energy of his fire might be expended in shorter posts rather than 40,000 word pamphlets. I think we will continue to plod along, trying to do good work, leaving the burning indignation to others.

Well, except when it comes to the over use of the word that in a text. I sometimes feel a little burn then. Doyle uses that at least five times in the two inset paragraphs I've quoted here. Two of them are unnecessary and one is part of sentence which should be rewritten.  In the least, I would ask him to tidy up the "...it has always seemed to me that so long as you produce...". 

I imagine he would tell me to bugger off.

A False Facade, Dr. Watson's Agency & AI

A little, wizened man darted out.

Sidney Paget's drawing from "The Adventure of the Norwood Builder" at the point when Sherlock Holmes's trick pulls the despicable Jonas Oldacre out of hiding  sometimes makes me think of The Wizard of Oz, and the revelation that the mighty wizard is just another man not telling the truth. Perhaps the wizard is not as despicable as Oldacre, but he still is a fraud--a fraud hiding behind a facade. 

This fraud behind a facade has been on my mind of late due to the information I read in the news and on social media about AI creation and use. The revelation that the work of many writers was stolen to train AI is maddening. Another particularly sad truth: publishers are selling author's work to the AI companies without the author's consent or compensation. The entirety of the situation is overwhelming to an individual like me but I still care very much about the writers whose works are appropriated.

My writing is on a very small scale, mostly niche, and often pastiche particularly inspired by Arthur Conan Doyle. In a recent group discussion about the use of AI in fiction writing I was asked if there are any real differences between using another writer's characters to write a story and using AI to write a story. I think there are many differences, mostly having to do with permissions and legalities, but in the most basic sense the difference between the two is that a pastiche writer may be writing a story about known characters but she is actually writing the words and hopefully writing with intent, with skill,  and with respect for the creator of the characters. AI is gluing together words from many sources, words that may or may not make sense.

As for respect, I would never use another writer's characters if the characters were not in the public domain, or if I did not have specific written permission from the copyright holder if needed. Some people seem to dismiss the idea of public domain and the rules surrounding the use of literature in the public domain. They seemingly see little difference between the use of public domain characters for pastiche and the AI harvesting of language from everywhere and everyone. The nuances of the issue keep rolling around in my head. I can't help but wonder what Arthur Conan Doyle would think about it all.

I look at the preceding paragraphs and I'm surprised at what I've written. I didn't sit down here to talk about the AI travesty; I planned to write about something else that has been taking up space in my head for a long time. (I use this blog to think out loud, if you will.) Today, I thought I was going to think about something Dr. Chris Pittard said in a Zoom meeting about a year ago as part of a discussion with Oxford Worlds' Classics editors for the new Sherlock Holmes volumes. 

He mentioned the ending of "The Adventure of the Norwood Builder" with an interesting thought about Sherlock Holmes's last statement:

"I fancy that for some few years you will find your time very fully occupied," said he. "By the way, what was it you put into the wood-pile besides your old trousers? A dead dog, or rabbits, or what? You won't tell? Dear me, how very unkind of you! Well, well, I dare say that a couple of rabbits would account both for the blood and for the charred ashes. If ever you write an account, Watson, you can make rabbits serve your turn." (Emphasis mine.)

 Dr. Pittard talked briefly about how the relationship between Holmes and Watson had evolved by the time of NORW, and how Holmes's consideration of Watson's writings had changed. He noted Holmes makes the writing of the account to be Watson's choice, and Watson can decide to end the story as he desires, including simply stating the bones were those of rabbits, even if he did not know for sure. Dr. Pittard discusses how this statement indicates how much Watson's agency within the relationship had changed from the earlier days.

I have read that paragraph many times and this thought about Watson's agency never crossed my mind. Now. I'm interested in combing through the time period where NORW falls and see if I can find more examples of Watson's role growing larger. The change is interesting; Dr. Pittard's thoughts are interesting. It is, as Christopher Redmond wrote in Canadian Holmes in 2009 (Vol 31, Number 4, p.2), the "...sort of thing that in a Canonical context would give us the opportunity to spend many happy hours creating Sherlockian papers."

When thinking about Watson's ways overall, I think it is safe to say he does not put on a false facade. Watson tells us when he has changed something, and he tells us when he can't remember something. He is honest about any deliberate changes or ambiguity. In an era of writing disarray, it is comforting to know we can trust Dr. Watson.

As for the AI thieves, I can only quote Sherlock Holmes, "Dear me, how very unkind of you!" To be honest, I would like to say something much harsher. Much harsher, indeed.