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Monthly Archives: January 2012

Who Was That Doggy at 221B?

Much is often made of this exchange from A Study in Scarlet, where Holmes and Watson are introduced by Stamford as possible roommates. Because I can’t help myself, I’m going to include comments on random other things via 1.

Sherlock Holmes seemed delighted at the idea of sharing his rooms with me. “I have my eye on a suite in Baker Street,” he said, “which would suit us down to the ground. You don’t mind the smell of strong tobacco, I hope?”

“I always smoke `ship’s’ myself,” I answered. 2

“That’s good enough. I generally have chemicals about, and occasionally do experiments. Would that annoy you?” 3

“By no means.”

“Let me see—what are my other shortcomings? I get in the dumps at times, and don’t open my mouth for days on end. You must not think I am sulky when I do that. 4 Just let me alone, and I’ll soon be right. What have you to confess now? It’s just as well for two fellows to know the worst of one another before they begin to live together.”

I laughed at this cross-examination. “I keep a bull pup,” 5 I said, “and I object to row because my nerves are shaken, and I get up at all sorts of ungodly hours, and I am extremely lazy. I have another set of vices when I’m well, but those are the principal ones at present.” 6

And this leads to a number of interpretations…

Option 1: Bull (Terrier) Puppy

The idea is that Watson owned a bulldog puppy, or maybe a bull terrier puppy, not necessarily little, who then disappears from the rest of the Canon. This absence could be considered… ominous. Many fans take this option, and both Bert Coules (BBC Radio Adaptation) and Guy Ritchie (Sherlock Holmes (2009)) ran with it, introducing such dogs in their own works.

And then what happened to the poor doggy?

Some propose that the dog was given away, because dogs hate Sherlock Holmes; in “The Adventure of the Gloria Scott”, one that took place before Holmes met Watson, Holmes has his ankles injured so badly by Victor Trevor’s bull terrier that he’s laid up for ten days afterwards. 7 Or perhaps Holmes felt a seething resentment unprovoked by the dog, although one would hope that would come out at an interview.

If a such an incompatibility did come up between Holmes and a puppy, what would happen? In Coules’ version, the puppy is given away; in Ritchie’s version, Holmes proceeds to experiment with the puppy. The latter actually reflects what a sociopathic boy does in the much later story, “The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire” to a spaniel, which doesn’t make for a kind reflection of Holmes’ mind.

In my opinion, if there really was a dog, the problem of bull terrier + Holmes’ ankles came up. I don’t think Holmes would actually experiment on the thing, since he acts so lovingly towards Toby, a hound who attempts to track a strange interloper in The Sign of Four, and is unlikely to ever get evil on that little floppy-eared face’s ass. Perhaps Holmes is simply more of a hound person (and indeed, Watson often describes Holmes as a hound 8 in the stories) and reserves his hatred for other dogs.

Speaking as someone who actually did get attacked by someone’s ill-trained actual bull dog, but has had friendly encounters with dogs of the floppy-eared variety, I completely fucking agree with Holmes in this case.

THERE IS NO MIDDLE GROUND.

Where was I? Ah, yes.

Option 2: A Temper

Some object to the idea of the bull pup being an actual dog, because up ’til then Watson had been staying in a hotel, which wouldn’t have looked kindly upon dogs. (See this article at Sherlock Peoria, also the home of the sporadic web comic, Action Sherlock Brain Theater.)

Another option, then, is to take refuge in obscure slang. Apparently “having a bull pup” is slang for “having fits of quick temper” (see The Encyclopaedia Sherlockiana). However, as pointed out in the previous article, Watson didn’t show off his temper during the Canon, or else he would have pummeled Holmes long ago and left. Not even Ritchie’s Watson is that impatient, though he’s less patient than most Watsons.

Actually, perhaps that was part of the motivation behind leaving Holmes for Mary Morstan. And perhaps Watson—who always was quick to want to bring physical vengeance on Holmes’ enemies, such as in “The Illustrious Client”—really did have a short temper, but rarely wrote it in. We’ll never know for sure, thanks to the Watson Gap. 9

Word of God would have been useful here, don’t you think? 10

Option 3: Packing Heat

This is my personal favorite, from a that would have been awesome point of view: the bull pup was a gun.

Of course, we’re not referring to modern bull pup guns, which are assault rifles where the receiver is located in the stock.

Apart from the complete difference in time period between Watson and the modern SA-80 British bull pup rifle, this is highly unlikely to have been a convenient weapon of choice. Although it’s quite fun to imagine him with one during, say, “The Adventure of the Empty House.”

However, “bull pup” in this case is likely to refer to the British Bulldog Revolver, a rather popular type of revolver in the past.

The relatively short barrel makes this gun convenient to carry around. I’m not sure, however, that folks in Britain, even Victorian England, would have really objected much to a bulldog revolver. But I have no idea what the culture was like during ColonizationFail, and as Watson in that scene in A Study in Scarlet had no friggin’ idea what kind of a roommate Holmes would end up being, he might have taken the guy for an academic softie. 11

If this really was the bull pup, then Watson took it with him on just about every adventure.

Actually, come to think of it, this interpretation makes the most sense to me. I wonder if the various interpretations of Watson that removed his capability with weapons led to the bull pup as dog idea later on.

Ah well.

Winner

You Know It’s True.

For the Rule of Cool overrules all other consideration in the world of pop culture fiction.

fine

Notes:

  1. double parens [back]
  2. What was worse: `ship’s or shag? Strong does not even begin to describe either. [back]
  3. And here we see the proximity of Holmes’ chemistry hobby, next to the upcoming mention…. [back]
  4. Yes, you are. [back]
  5. Ding ding ding! Next to the mention of “bull pup”! [back]
  6. The other set of vices is often speculated to be (a) womanizing and (b) gambling. If you take the tack that Watson was homosexual, (a) would still apply in terms of being oversexed. [back]
  7. In this relative captivity, Holmes and Trevor became close friends, or at least close as Holmes counts friends, which considering that he’s made two in his entire life before retirement, may or may not be entirely accurate. Or they were lovers. Your choice. Psychological associations and weirdness could definitely ensue. [back]
  8. INNUENDO? You choose! [back]
  9. Dibs. It’s my reference to the problems of a first-person narrator if we take them to be unreliable. And we’re pretty sure, thanks to stories published years apart in the canon, yet depicting events happening less than a year apart, told with completely different perspectives on Holmes as a character (largely positive-ish, and then heading down into “why the fuck did you stay with this jerkass” category). Although, like anything else, there are multiple flavors of interpretation here. [back]
  10. Of course, in Doyle’s case, Word of God would have been laughing in the face of any fan who asked. Because he didn’t give a crap. Welcome to Sherlock Holmes fandom, where the inmates run the asylum, because the asylum administrators all took off for the pub. [back]
  11. Actually, now that I think about it, Holmes mentioning his chemicals, and Watson coming upon him in his biochem capacity, may have lead Watson to believe that Holmes was some kind of nerdy little geek. Oh, innocent Watson. [back]

Retyping the Speckled Band, Part 6: Action, Climax, and Epilogue

Originally published April 3, 2010.

Previously we discussed how Doyle deals with suspense and the rising of stakes.

This time we’ll look at his action sequences. In large part, however, “The Adventure of the Speckled Band” is one of the quieter, arguably saner stories in the Sherlock Holmes canon. But you know, it has a cheetah and a baboon in it.

Let’s roll.

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Retyping the Speckled Band, Part 5: Suspense is a Good Thing

Originally posted April 3, 2010. Yes, that’s quite the time skip.

Previously we looked at how Doyle dealt with description as we began to descend into the Muddled Middle that plagues so many works, including published ones.

Today we’ll deal with the aspect of suspense.

Man, it’s been over a year since I wrote the previous part of this series. Let’s hope I’ve actually scraped together enough experience to deal with this bit….

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Retyping the Speckled Band, Part 4: Description with Purpose

Originally published May 6, 2008.

Previously we looked at how Doyle revealed character depth in the flow of the story, rather than breaking flow to drop in character information.

Today, we’ll look at Doyle’s skills at description, atmosphere, and suspense as we lead into that part of any story, so maddening to many a writer: the middle.

Let us type.

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Retyping the Speckled Band, Part 3: Revealing Depth

Originally published January 31, 2008.

Last time, we looked at Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s techniques of:

  • the information dump as extended inner story; and
  • pacing between inner and outer story.

Today, we’re going to look at Doyle’s adeptness at revealing character depth through multiple narrative means.

Let us type.

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Retyping the Speckled Band, Part 2: Information Dumps

Originally posted January 16, 2008.

Last time, we looked at Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s techniques of:

  • opening the story;
  • non-direct dialog;
  • laser-focused description;
  • establishment of character.

Today we’re going to look at how Doyle attacks one of the most difficult methods for any fiction writer: the information dump.

Let us type.

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Retyping the Speckled Band, Part 1: Beginning with Style

Originally posted January 14, 2008. My thoughts these days are that writing is not a physical skill, but through this exercise (and the painting one, for that matter) you naturally study in more depth what’s going on. The mystery serial’s dead and off the net, and maybe it’ll stay that way.

When I first started writing fiction again in the middle of 2007, after a hiatus of over a decade, I realized that I had lost the cadence and flow of writing a story. Story writing is inherently an entirely different process from that of non-fiction. As a result, I had a tendency to stall, and stall badly.The damage was spectacularly bad on a couple of short mystery stories I wrote. I was filled with sadness and despair, but I kept going ’cause I’m like that.

One day, I stumbled across the thread of a wise writer, by the name of James D. McDonald, over at AbsoluteWrite called Learn Writing with Uncle Jim. One of his suggestions is to retype the first chapter of a novel:

Now, retype the first chapter. Do this with your writer’s eye, not your reader’s eye. Think about the lengths of the sentences, the lengths of the paragraphs, the sounds of the words. Think about the order of the scenes. Notice the dialog. How are the dialog tags rendered? Where is the point of view?

The point of this exercise is this: Have you ever gone to an art museum and seen the art students sitting there with their easels and oils, copying the great masters? The point isn’t to turn them into plagairists, or to make them expert forgers. The point is to get the feeling into their hands and arms of how to make the brush strokes that create a particular illusion on canvas. Writing is no less a physical skill than painting.

I thought that was pretty crazy, and didn’t try it at first.

One day I decided, what the heck.

Well, I don’t think it’s crazy anymore.

So let me take you on my journey of retyping “The Adventure of the Speckled Band”.

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Dance of the Blame Fairy

“I think the reason you’ve never seen me manic is because when I am, I cancel all our appointments.”

Let’s just say this week was greatest bipolar hits from 2011.

Or let’s not; let’s unpack that, because it’s hard enough to go on with this in my skull.

This week, I found out that Spontaneous ∂erivation had been “pharma-hacked”. Most of you wouldn’t have seen it, but Google and other search indices did, where my content was replaced with anything from full shopfronts to content from 12/23/2011, which I figure was the actual hack date, seeded through with pharmaceutical spam. So, not connected to DreamHost’s recent security woes, that I know of.

I discovered this on joining Google+, which, by connecting me with my own content, exposed what was going on. This is not a plug for Google+, but just an interesting side note.

Now for the bag of stir-crazy: I’ve been stuck at home for two weeks, due to peer reviews and then snow. During this time my mania was also starting to get out of control, and since I was also oncall last week, I didn’t sleep more than a handful of hours from Friday through to Monday. Then I was oncall again Monday night, so by Tuesday I was running on maybe… six hours of sleep over four days?

Then I discovered the hack, and lost it. I jumped to all sorts of bizarre conclusions, leaped great canyons of illogic without realizing anything was wrong, screwed up my relationship (such as it is) with DreamHost, and wigged out on my closest friends. If you know someone who’s bipolar, you know how… disconnected I was with reality.

I didn’t sleep on Tuesday night. The hacks kept happening, which meant a backdoor in a plugin, but I just couldn’t accept it goddamnit.

By Wednesday the mania had receeded enough for me to see sense, and raze my wordpress installs all to the ground. This had to be done several times, because at least one plugin, freshly installed from WordPress.org, came backdoored. (You know, the minimalism is kind of entertaining. I pretty much don’t want to install plugins ever again, or mess with a theme that isn’t from WordPress. The Tim Thumb AJAX scripts can go die in a fire.)

I slept 6 hours after the mania crashed into depression on Wednesday.

For some reason on Thursday, my boss, who is very into preventative measures (i.e., if he waits too long and I flame out, it’s too late), took me aside and told me gently to go home. For the rest of the week. No, this isn’t a pink slip; this is because he’s seen me like this before: during the events that led to taking intermittent FMLA leave in the first place.

I can never live that down. And I don’t really want to.

Anyways: I wasn’t being very introspective or very monitoring of myself while all this was happening, and even a bit before. At the same time, bipolar is bipolar, and a hack is a hack. And it’s not the end of the world.

Except that I can never forgive myself. I know there was a post about forgiving oneself that circulated around; trust me, I’m not ready to read it and may never be. This is very much about how my parents treated me. Y’see, my parents had this interesting approach to raising a kid: when something goes wrong, beat the kid and tell them it was their fault. My father handled the first part, my mother the second part after he got his rage all tired out.

I framed this as “teaching right from wrong” but… it’s not teaching the kid right from wrong, is it. My friend pointed this out: “That’s teaching how to be utterly afraid of doing anything wrong and take all the blame on yourself for things that you cannot control, then feel awful when it doesn’t work.”

My bartender had a similar take. We talked about it further. He had another insight, which is that my parents also punished without distinguishing right from wrong. I was never told when I was doing something good, it was purely all negative reinforcement. Except once my mother told me that my father was actually very proud of me—it’s just that if he showed it to me, I would no longer try my best, so this was for my own good. So I basically had to take it on faith that my father loved me. And damn, how I would do anything, including accepting blame for him knocking over a lamp or for wanting to go to band’s celebratory dinner, for that love.

I made great leaps of logic to try to figure out what would please my father without being told in the first place.

Man, being a kid sucks, when you want love that bad from someone who will never give it to you except when trying to emotionally manipulate you.

Oh, here’s an interesting little story. Once upon a time, my mother bought a floor lamp that was thin and skinny, a modern thing. My father hated it upon sight, and began to hit her because he was convinced that you couldn’t return electric devices to the store. I’m serious. So I took the lamp, and the receipt, and the car keys, and returned the lamp to the store. I should have gone to the police, but that ploy only resulted in strangling the last time. I gave my father the money.

Result? Beating, along with cries of “why didn’t you stop your mother from buying that lamp!”

Afterwards, my mother took care of me and explained all the while that this I deserved wholly and utterly.

You see my point.

I’m fortunate in that I managed to learn from outside my family what was right and wrong, at least with the more important topics, but I have never applied right/wrong as separate concepts to myself; it’s all just blame. Which is, admittedly, better for society than the obverse would be.

Anyways, now I’m aware of my tendency to pin enormous amounts of blame only on myself, but it’s kind of awful that I can’t actually seem to rescind the belief that I don’t deserve forgiveness. It’s buried way deep, beyond logic. And this is the reason I like my bartender: he didn’t keep telling me to “just forget it”, because he knew how deep the wound went. The wound may always be there, but I don’t have to let it determine how I act. I think the next session he will add the concept of “or how I feel”, he tends to build things up gradually.

And yes, he has made very sure that I have appointments coming up. I will try to not cancel them, which should be easy because now I’m in the depressive cycle. I can tell because I have no desire to eat.

Friday will be sleeps day, assuming there are no more hacks.

An Announcement About Hackery, Sherlock Holmes, and Tea

As some of you may know, S∂ was hacked. What was discovered later was that the backdoor had been installed in my Sherlock Holmes site, and was likely the code that was spreading and infecting the main site.

I’ve burned all my sites to the ground and rebuilt only the main site. Every password and key has been changed, and now there are few enough plugins that scanning for a hack will not be a difficult task.

When I started writing again, I could really only watch one site at a time. Holmes and Tea fell by the wayside, harmlessly I thought, but as was shown, oh, not harmlessly at all.

Because both Holmes and Tea are full of worms and I don’t have time to debug them both, they will no longer exist as their own sites. However, their more worthy bits of content will be fully absorbed into this site over time.

Also this means that S∂ will have content while I’m struggling with Seal Tales, so hooray!

Breathing Away

KEEP CALM

and

DRINK TEA

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