The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

I’ve said it before, there is a certain level of guilt that comes along with having a Kindle. I love books. I love book stores. And playing any part in the demise of actual paper books and the publishing industry makes me sad. But. I am also a practical (and frugal!) girl. And having a Kindle makes my book habit a little bit cheaper.

Case in point; one of the first things I did when I got my Kindle was download free stuff. Mostly classics. Once a book’s copy right expires, it becomes public domain. That pretty much means that nobody owns the rights, so nobody can sue you if you print or reproduce it. So Amazon makes a bunch of these free to Kindle users. Score.

This came in super handy a few weeks ago as I sat at the hair salon. There I was, looking all Steel Magnolias with my hair in foils, ready to sit back and read for the 25 minutes it would take to dye the grey away, when I realized that I had finished what I was reading. And that I didn’t know the salon’s wireless password, so I couldn’t download a new book. After the initial panic of being stuck with no reading material, I remembered – I’ve got The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

I’ve always heard that House is a modern day take on the famous Mr. Holmes. And since House is a stable on our DVR (and who can resist Robert Downey Jr. in a frilly shirt?!) I figured it was as good a time as any to delve into the real world of Baker Street.

Not sure why it never occurred to me that The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes is a series of short stories. But considering the nature of Victorian serial publishing, when writers were typically paid by the word, it makes sense that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle tended towards the verbose. It also explains why each story tends to repeat certain elements. Read individually, it makes sense to reintroduce Holmes and his quarks to new readers. Read back to back, as they are in this collection, it becomes a bit maddening to be reminded over and over just how Holmes is able to come to his always correct conclusions.

I was ready for Holmes to be his Holmesian self though.  What I was not so ready for was the absolute annoyance I felt for Dr. Watson. As a narrator he’s thorough, giving us every detail of each case and digging into Holmes’ thinking like an archaeologist. As a character, Dr. Watson is a ninny. He patters after Holmes like a puppy, always willing to drop what he’s doing to scurry off to find some missing jewels or a lost bride. (Poor Mrs. Dr. Watson, always left behind) After all the years they have supposedly worked together, Dr. Watson’s constant amazement at the way Holmes thinks is frustrating. How is he still unable to figure out how Holmes works? Why is he always so befuddled about what Holmes sees? I get it that he is there to play the role of the audience, to be astonished and in awe of Holmes so that we are too. But when you read these stories one after the other, like I did, I don’t see how anyone is left wanting to do anything but try to sell bemused Watson the Brooklyn Bridge. No way he’d figure that out on his own.