"My dear Bram Stoker" Indeed

Letter to Bram Stoker (20 august 1897)/The Author Conan Doyle Encyclopedia

Aug 20 /97

My dear Bram Stoker

I am sure that you will not think it an impertinence if I write to tell you how very much I have enjoyed reading Dracula. I think it is the very best story of diablerie which I have read for many years. It is really wonderful how with so much exciting interest over so long a book there is never an anticlimax. It holds you from the very start and grows more and more engrossing until it is quite painfully vivid. The old Professor is most excellent and so are the two girls. I congratulate you with all my heart for having written so fine a book.

With all kindest remembrances to Mrs Bram Stoker and yourself

Yours very truly

A Conan Doyle.

I've been rereading Dracula this past week as part of my two-person long-distance book club with Sherlockian, bookman, and artist Jeff Decker, BSI. (Jeff is actually rereading the book as part of his in-person book club and I'm tagging along for the fun of it.) Once again, the power of Bram Stoker's work in the novel amazes me.  I'm always surprised anew when I read it. Count Dracula, as we think we know him, is such a part of our culture (especially this time of year) that it is easy to forget what Stoker actually created. The book is a triumph of planning, execution, and art. As I read last night, I wished I could write to Stoker to thank him for his work. I then vaguely remembered reading about Arthur Conan Doyle writing a letter to Stoker congratulating him for the excellence that is Dracula.

Today, I went looking for Doyle's letter. As always, the indispensable Alexis Barquin and The Author Conan Doyle Encyclopedia came through for me with images and text. I like Doyle's words in this letter.  I think he could clearly see and appreciate the work Stoker put into creating his masterpiece. In Paul Chapman's fascinating Birth of a Legend, Count Dracula, Bram Stoker and Whitby, he notes Stoker's idea for the novel "...was to prove rather exceptional and would ultimately take over six years to plan, research and write." At the time of the letter writing, I doubt if Doyle or Stoker could have imagined what would become of that six years of work. Doyle lived long enough to see some of the power Sherlock Holmes holds in the public imagination. It is a shame Stoker did not live long enough to see the power of Count Dracula on that same public imagination.

I especially like how Doyle notes the quality of the characters of Van Helsing, Mina and Lucy.  I think that despite the menacing and unforgettable presence of the Count himself, Stoker's full cast of main characters are not over-shadowed by him in the book. They are all memorable and effective.

In Stoker's world, these ordinary people face extraordinary horror but yet they step up, push back, and eventually defeat an almost indestructible monster. Stoker shows us who these people are in a relatable and believable way. I feel like I know them well. They seem real to me, like Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson.

Although the world remembers the Count, I think what I will remember most from this book is a line about Dr. Seward from Mina Harker's journal. With the words he gave to Mina, Stoker reminded me of something important: "How good and thoughtful he is; the world seems full of good men--even if there are monsters in it."

The world has its fair share of monsters today; I'm comforted to think there might still be a number of good men, too. Thank you for that, my dear Bram Stoker.

 

 

 

"I do not wish to be ungrateful to Holmes..." or Doyle

 

"I do not wish to be ungrateful to Holmes, who has been a good friend to me in many ways. If I have sometimes been inclined to weary of him it is because his character admits of no light or shade. He is a calculating machine, and anything you add to that simply weakens the effect. Thus the variety of the stories must depend upon the romance and compact handling of the plots. I would say a word for Watson also, who in the course of seven volumes never shows one gleam of humour or makes one single joke."--Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Memories & Adventures

The photo above is, of course, a mash-up. I did it awhile back (items out of copyright, thankfully) as a visual representation of how Doyle, Holmes and Watson live together in my head. As I've said before,  only Holmes and Watson lived there for many years as my life was only Sherlockian. Now it is Doylean as well. Most of the time, the three fellows have a pleasant cohabitation, although it  is sometimes disturbed by small things, like some family interactions are.

If Doyle were here right now, I would defend Holmes and Watson against the statement I've quoted above. If Holmes threw no light or shade, the vast--vast almost to the point of immeasurable--world of Sherlockiana would not exist. There is an army of Watsonians (of which I am part) ready to defend the good doctor against a ridiculous charge of being humorless; an Army also  ready to defend the idea Holmes, as we know him, could not exist without Watson.  And if Doyle were here right now, I would give him an earful about the interview where he said "I get letters addressed to his rather stupid friend, Watson,..." Rather stupid friend, indeed.

The old Doyle words from above are well-known, long talked about, sometimes forgotten. I don't hold them against Doyle. My respect for the man's work goes far beyond a few statements I might disagree with. I am grateful for the chance to live in his world in a small way; his writings are a big part of my life. I am especially grateful for the chance to write fiction with his characters. I've always mostly assumed the greater Sherlockian world felt the same way: for better or worse, Doyle is the respected founder and we are thankful for him.

You can imagine my surprise, then, when recently a Sherlockian fiction writer let me know, in no uncertain terms, how little he thought of Doyle; he told me he had no respect for Sir Arthur because of several things we know about Doyle's personal life and some of his words, including the "rather stupid friend" remark. Of course the writer is perfectly entitled to his opinions. The exchange reminded me I should not make assumptions about "the greater Sherlockian world."

I've thought about the conversation quite a few times. I've realized Dr. Watson is so real in the writer's mind, Doyle's ugly words are seemingly about a real person; Doyle is dissing the writer's good friend. Sometimes playing the Sherlockian game results in blurry boundaries. Doyle's choices were his own, too, and I'm not able to hold any of them against him: he had his life to live in his own way in a far different time. 

In today's world we hear of cancel culture, and sometimes in the Sherlockian community, we are  challenged to either accept a flawed human and all their foibles in order to have access to that human's Sherlockian work or to let the human and the work go. The lines can get very blurry then as well. I don't even pretend to have the answers. Sometimes I choose the flawed human, sometimes I choose the letting go. My instincts tell me which is best for me at the time; I seem to just know. It is as Sherlock Holmes said,

 "It was easier to know it than to explain why I know it. If you were asked to prove that two and two made four, you might find some difficulty, and yet you are quite sure of the fact."

I can't believe the words of Sherlock Holmes, using them at times as part of my moral compass, and yet not have respect for Doyle. They are his words, too, after all. And I'm grateful for them.