Thursday, 8 June 2017

Reading Roundup - Mostly May 2017

So, it has been a terrible month for reading. To get even one proper book I've had to extend into early June. There are several reasons for this:
  1. I've spent a lot of time not just commuting in and out, either being off sick or taking days for childcare or gaming, which means I lose about 2.5 hours of listening time per day.
  2. My current Challenge book is Wild Swans, which is dense AF and I can't do it justice if I'm half out of it.
  3. I lost a gang of listening time to Gladiator (Volume 1 of Wolf's Empire,) which was ultimately so meh I haven't managed to finish it.
That being said…

Saga is an ongoing series by Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples about – more or less – the child of a pair of star-crossed lovers, one from either side of a techno-magical space war, and the various forces that want to eliminate/aid/capture them all. I came to it via Wil Wheaton's use of the character Lying Cat to respond to statements from the Trump administration. Volume 1 features the birth of our neonatal lead, a cadre of genuine ghosts putting the Scooby Doo on invaders, a spaceship grown from wood, and a six year old sex slave, which last is either going to be a bold move or a complete deal breaker. In this opening segment, bounty hunter The Will learns that his 'it's complicated' is working the same bounty and decides instead to visit a space brothel, and on discovering said slave girl determines to rescue her against seemingly impossible odds.

So, it's not a narrative without its problems, but overall it seems to be a largely hopeful story, and so I have hope.

Also, it has Lying Cat, who is pretty nifty.

My other read – in and out around Wild Swans – was Rick Riordan's The Dark Prophecy, book two of The Trials of Apollo. The now-mortal Apollo travels west with Leo Valdez and the (also mortal) ex-sorceress Calypso to Indianapolis, where the second emperor of the Triumvirate has his stronghold. The self-styled New Hercules is determined to remake the city as a monument to his own glory, but to do that he needs Apollo to help him fulfil a prophecy. Apollo, meanwhile must find another oracle in order to secure the second stage of his quest to reclaim control of prophecy and fate from the Triumvirate and so, hopefully, reclaim his godhood.

The Dark Prophecy sees the return of Apollo and his pre-teen master Meg, as well as Leo and Calypso, but there are also plenty of new characters. The Trials of Apollo are, despite the singular self-love of their narrator/protagonist, more truly ensemble works than most of Riordan's other works, which tend to focus on 3-5 individuals. Between the nails-hard lesbian moms Hemithea and Josephine, a frenemy goddess of nets, and Yoruban warrior-demigod/accountant Olujime, the novel continues to open out a world which originally seemed almost entirely focused on Camp Half-Blood. Apollo, meanwhile, remains an engaging narrator, despite his fluctuations between arrogance and self-pity around flashes of genuine humanity, and Robbie Daymond once more provides excellent voice work, despite some oddly stilted editing in the early sections.

Wednesday, 7 June 2017

End of an Era: Darths & Droids

Let's do this thing.
Gosh, I seem to be doing a lot of these lately. Apparently it really is the end of an era in webcomics.

Darths & Droids is a Star Wars screencap webcomic produced by Australian writing collective the Comic Irregulars – composed of Andrew Coker, Andrew Shellshear, David Karlov, David McLeish, David Morgan-Mar (the Slim Shady of this D12, in as much as he has his own Wikipedia page,) Ian Boreham, Loki Patrick and Steven Irrgang – and inspired by Shamus Young's DM Of the Rings, a screencap comic in which a highly driven DM railroads his players through the plot of The Lord of the Rings in a world in which the original work does not exist. 

Darths & Droids likewise takes a classic work of fiction – the at-the-time six part Star Wars series – and uses screencaps from those films to form a comic. The dialogue is written to represent the roleplaying group running through this adventure in a world where Star Wars does not exist. Unlike DM of the Rings, the GM of Darths & Droids is a giver, and the plot of the films - more or, in some cases much, less - is created through the interactions between his intended plot and whatever craziness the players can come up with. Jar Jar Binks, for example, turns out in this version to be the result of having to let the younger sister of one of the original players, join in in lieu of babysitting, while R2D2 is a min-maxed engineering twink whose sudden leg jets are the result of letting his player run a session while the GM is busy and the 'laser sword' was just the only thing the starting characters could afford until one of the players rationalised into the ultimate weapon.

A phrase is born.
The in-game narrative of the series runs through the six episodes of the series, each given a slightly different name from the film  – The Phantasmal Malevolence, The Silence of the Clones, Revelation of the Sith, A New Generation, The Enemy Let Slip and The Jedi Reloaded – while an accompanying meta-narrative follows the gaming group over a period of perhaps six years. 

Said group consists of a broad mix of gaming archetypes: Jim (Qui-Gon Jin, Padme Amidala, 'Han Solo'), is a gung-ho would-be master strategist, hindered by his inability to see the glaring holes in his plans(1); Ben (Obi-Wan Kenobi, Chewbacca), is the rationalist, always trying to argue advantages from circumstance(2). They are joined by Sally (Jar-Jar, C3PO), Ben's sister, an imaginative free spirit; Pete (R2D2), a calculating min-maxer with an overabundance of dice superstitions; and Annie (Anakin, Leia, Darth Vader), an actress and hardcore method roleplayer. Finally, Pete's nephew Corey (Luke), joins them for the original trilogy having only previously played computer RPGs. They can all be caricatures when needed for comic effect, but there will be things that any gamer can recognise.

In addition to the plot of the films, the comic also plays with common RPG tropes, such as frequent horrified commentary on grappling rules, and more general fictional archetypes through the medium of out of character commentary.

No plot survives contact with the players.
Among the comic's achievements are giving the prequel trilogy a coherent plot, making Anakin an involving character, keeping the meta-narrative as involving as the main - if these people were real, I would totes hang out with them, although I might be wary of committing to a campaign - and coining the never-before used phrase 'Jar-Jar, you're a genius!' It's also really funny, and often makes valid yet affectionate commentary on the original works.

The series spawned running gags – casting summon bigger fish, and the hints dropped each year about the games they have been playing in the interim, each based on a different film – and (almost) every 50 comics added a bonus page to a chain linked from episode 50, each presenting a page from the Comic Irregular's works in an alternate dimension(3). From A New Generation onwards, the writers worked less to explain or correct perceived flaws in the films, and more to create a genuinely continuous emotional arc from the prequel trilogy, for example by having Naboo and not Alderaan suffer destruction as a test of the Death Star, since that was a world that the players knew and were invested in. It also featured a Han Solo who was really a conman who killed the real Solo in the Mos Eisley Cantina, and Han and Chewie as Imperial double agents, without actually derailing the plot at any point.

It turns out Greedo shot first.
And now, after ten years, the screen circle-wipes on the triumphant party after the Battle of Endor. The circle is now complete; those who went astray have been redeemed and those who engineered the straying - mostly Anakin - have been... Well, okay, maybe that's something for another time, since he's still knocking about as a Force Spirit. The Empire is defeated and the second Death Star... I'm sorry, Naboo Peace Moon has been destroyed. All or most is well with the galaxy, and it it's time to draw the curtain.

This is not the end, mark you; any more than it was the end of Star Wars. What's more, we won't have to wait nearly so long for Darths & Droids to continue. They have announced plans to begin Rogue One soon, and to continue doing the Star Wars Stories until they have a whole new main series trilogy to plot out. The end of The Jedi Reloaded is, however, a very significant milestone, and makes this a great time to get stuck in, beginning with The Phantasmal Malevolence, if you haven't read the comic before and have the time to read through around 1,520 comics.


(1) It is later revealed that he is a brilliant geophysicist who simply considers roleplaying to be an opportunity to switch his brain off for a while and go with whatever seems like a good idea at the time.
(2) Including the fact that a laser sword must be able to deflect a blaster bolt if there is any sense in the world.
(3) In the world of Darths & Droids they were working on a Harry Potter comic, in the world of which they were working on one based on The Sound of Music and so on.

Friday, 5 May 2017

Reading Roundup - April 2017

I dropped a book this time round. April was a very slow month for some reason (mostly Easter, I think,) and I only got through one of my challenge books (which is why I've swapped out 'Big French Novels' for 'The Luke Cage Syllabus' in August.) That book was Irvine Welsh's unrelenting Trainspotting, a brutal and unromantic slice of life from the drug-addled youth of Leith. On the other hand, I have made a decent stab at The Rose That Grew From Concrete, and the next month's books include the very short Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress.

I kicked off this month with Ancillary Sword, the sequel to Ancillary Justice and the second book of the Imperial Radch trilogy. Having precipitated the militarisation of the schism in the manifold clones of Anaander Mianaai(1), the Lord of the Radch, the rogue ancillary Breq is assigned as captain of a Mercy - smallest of the Imperial Fleet's ship classes - and to command the defence of a world that helps to fuel the Radch's inexhaustible thirst for tea.

Without her overwhelming thirst for revenge, Breq has more time to muse on the psychological impact of her losses in this novel, leading to a slower narrative with less focus on action and more on character. In addition to herself, Breq struggles to integrate Seivarden into the modern fleet, and to help a copy of Anaander Mianaai to become her own person after having her ancillary implants removed. As she bonds with the common folk of the Radch and butts heads with the great and the good, Breq's character emerges as, to paraphrase another work, a great sympathiser for cripples, bastards and broken things.

Adjoa Andoh once more provides a strong reading, and if not much happens in comparison to Ancillary Justice, the novel is never slow. I've got a bit of a backlog to work through, but Ancillary Mercy is definitely on my list for reading in the near future.

Next up is the second book in Rick Riordan's Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard series, as dead boy walking Magnus and Muslim Valkyrie Sam attempt to track down the missing Mjollnir on behalf of it dim-witted owner. Their best option appears to be to try to follow a dangerous ploy set out by Sam's father Loki halfway, then pull a fast one at the last minute, but can you truly pull a fast one on the God of Mischief? And can their new ally be trusted?

I was going to open by saying that Magnus Chase and the Hammer of Thor has little in common with Ancillary Sword, but that's actually not true. The Imperial Radch trilogy's calling card is its almost universal use of feminine pronouns to represent a virtually genderless society, while The Hammer of Thor introduces Alex Fierro, transgender and gender fluid child of Loki, whose greatest fear on arriving in Asgard is that the eternal form of an Einherji would mean sticking in one gender. Embracing the power of Loki in order to own it, Alex is not only an unusual example of a heroic non-binary character... well, anywhere, but especially in mainstream children's adventure fiction(2), but possibly - if it goes the way it's looking - perhaps the first children's adventure transgender love interest.

Kieran Culkin provides a far superior voice for the reading of this volume, as compared to The Sword of Summer's Christopher Guetig, whose performance made Magnus's disaffected narrative voice so unsymapthetic that it put my partner - as great a fan of Riordan's work and listener of audiobooks as I am - off the story altogether until she was able to get a paper copy.

Square cover art = audio only!
Tipped of by my industry contacts(3), I was quick to snap up the free, audio-exclusive short story A Rare Book of Cunning Device, by Ben Aaronovich. It's only thirty minutes long, which is barely a short-story in real terms, but thirty minutes in the world of Peter Grant and the Folly is worth thirty hours of willfully nonprogressive neo-Roman space nazi Scientologists(4). Also, free! And read, as always, by Kobna Holbrook-Smith.

At some point in the Rivers of London chronology, Peter Grant is called in to investigate what seems to be a haunting among the stacks and automated collection systems of the new British Library, the only problem being that it is much too new for ghosts. On the other hand, some of the books are old... Could be a job for Britain's only apprentice magician (assuming an increasingly narrow interpretation of 'apprentice magician',) assuming he can do the business without melting the tech in the book collecting system. The short story also introduces us to a no-nonsense lady librarian who knew Peter's mother, so I can't believe she's going to prove to have been a one-shot.

I don't usually go through the books that I read with my daughter, but then again there are a lot of them. At some point I ought to do a post devoted to some of them, like the alternative princess stories in Don't Kiss the Frog, Princess Daisy and the Dragon and the Nincompoop(5) Knights and The Princess Who Saved Herself, or the bucolic life lessons of Mathias Feldhaus' Frog books. 

For now, however, we're just going to look briefly at Cinnamon, a short story by Neil Gaiman released in a new edition, illustrated by American artist and author Divya Srinivasan. I picked this up on impulse at my FLBS and for two days Arya refused to let me read it, because it was new and uncertain. Then she agreed, if she could have 'The Clumsy Princess' and The Very Hungry Caterpillar as well, and since then she's asked that the story of a blind princess and the man-eating tiger who sets out to teach her to speak be read to her every night. I call that a success.

(1) Advantages of audiobooks: I would never have pegged the pronunciation of this as An-ah-ander Mee-ah'nee-eye.
(2) Up to younger teen target audience, I mean. Obviously in YA pretty much anything goes, most likely because at that point you're selling purely to the reader and not their parents.
(3) I follow Ben Aaronovich's blog, okay.
(4) More on this when and if I finish the book.
(5) "Does that mean that they poop?" - Arya-Rose, age 4.

Thursday, 4 May 2017

2017 Challenge - The Rose That Grew From Concrete

Poetry Bonus 1

The Rose That Grew From Concrete, by Tupac Shakur

Reason for Reading: This challenge is about broadening my perspective, and the world of hip hop is a mystery to me. Now, this is a collection of poetry and not a novel, so I didn't read it through.

I don't know much about Tupac's life or music. Honestly, I could stand to do a similar challenge for music, because I barely know any music outside of that which utterly pervades western culture. I know only that he was a rapper who came up from nothing and wrote about hardship and violence, and who was killed in a probably gang-related shooting, while still fighting a sexual assault conviction on appeal(1). The latter is especially  noteworthy given his preoccupations in verse with love, rather than lust, friendship and respect. A good proportion of the poems in the collection are dedicated to a specific individual, as a token of friendship or deeper affection. Those later in the book have a darker tone, as those are mostly the ones that talk about his own death, many written months or weeks before he was shot. Even these, however, are introspective and concern his fears or his hopes more than dwelling on the possibility of violence.

There is a simplicity to Tupac's verse. This is not a man steeped in years of exposure to the classics and certainly not someone who obsesses over every single word, which by some lights probably makes him a poor poet, but there's a clarity and a power in that simplicity, rather than naivety. The book is composed with facing pages carrying a printed version of a poem and the original, written in an exercise book in a mix of capitals and lower case print, with crossings out and corrections still in place and never a word if a number would do.

Normally I would hate that, but that's because normally retaining such shorthand would be a sign of sloppy editing, but there is no editing here. These aren't verses carefully curated for publication, but thoughts and feelings preserved in the moment. It's an extraordinary glimpse into a man who was patently more complex than just another dead gangsta; far too complex for me to offer any substantial analysis based on a few readings.

(1) I don't have an opinion on whether he did it or not. He was convicted, but I find it as easy to believe that a black rapper could be wrongly convicted of such a crime as I do that a white businessman could get away with it.

2017 Challenge - Trainspotting

Book 6 (March, Mad People)

Trainspotting, by Irvine Welsh (read by Tam Dean Lin)

Reason for Reading: Set primarily in Leith before its late-80s revival, Trainspotting is as alien to me as anything I've yet approached, and the madness which marks it for March reading (and, yes, I actually read it in late April,) relates to heroin addiction, which is also something alien to me.

The striking thing about comparing novels that have achieved classic status to those which have not and likely will not is the language. Your run of the mill fantasy epics, milporn SF and airport potboilers, even the best of them, use language as a simple medium, a means to convey meaning from the author to the reader, and yes, that's what language is, but... But a great book doesn't just do that; a great book contains language that both conveys meaning and is aesthetically striking in its own right, and this is true no less of the profanity laden, idomatic invective of Trainspotting than of the lyrical flow of One Hundred Years of Solitude. The novel contains more uses of the c-word than any, probably every other book I've ever read, but it is never gratuitous, even when it is. If that makes any sense.

Trainspotting is an angry, hard-to-like book about angry, hard-to-like people being angry and hard to like. It's tough going, but it's supposed to be, and it is the triumph of the novel that even if you don't like its various protagonists, you end up kind of getting them. The shifting narrative voice provides multiple perspectives on each character: Of particular note is the tension between self-styled idealist Renton and self-styled man of the world Sick Boy, and the juxtaposition between Spud's rambling speech and more coherent narrative voice. Franco Begbie is a monster for the ages, and Renton's musings on the group's communal creation of the legend of Begbie the hard man, the stand up mate, is one of the most interesting threads of the book.

This is not a book for the faint-hearted, and it's not a book to be approached casually, especially by those not familiar with the Scots - and specifically Leith - vernacular. I went with an audio book, which probably helped, but it still had to go off when I was tired (and of course could not be listened to in bed for fear that my daughter would wake up, wonder in and start calling people doss c&*$s.) Leith-born actor and professional reader of Irvine Welsh novels Tam Dean Burn runs around every conceivable variation of the Leith accent in the course of the book, infecting the listener's inner monologue with the best variation it can manage - in my case, not very good - and an urge to call people radge bastards. That alone speaks to the power of language.

Did I like it? No, but then it's not a book that wants to be liked. It's a very good book, possibly a great book, but you wouldn't want to hang out with it all the time.

Monday, 10 April 2017

End of an Era - Bad Machinery

Once upon a time there was a comic named Bobbins, which followed the adventures of a group of friends working at a local listings magazine in the West Yorkshire city of Tackleford. It was… 

End of an era, take 1.
Okay, honestly, it was probably a miracle of the internet that Bobbins got off the ground and a testament to writer-illustrator John Allison's perseverance that it made it through the difficult early period when the illustrator part of his job title was more a function of necessity than of ability. Like many webcomics it took a while for the strip to get its art style in hand, and Allison has bounced back and forth between hand drawn, computer drawn and something inbetween pretty much ever since, with Bad Machinery perhaps his first comic to adopt a consistent style from beginning to end. 

Bobbins ran from late 1998 to early 2002. Leading character Holly West vanished in the Himalayas and returned an unrepentant bitch queen to run the City Limits magazine into the ground. The magazine folded, the cast were laid off and they stepped aside to allow minor characters Tessa Davies and Rachel Montford-Dukakis, journalism students on a course run by former City Limits editor Len Pickering, to shine in their own spin off, Scary Go Round from June 2002.

You could be forgiven for expecting
the comic to be about these characters.
By October, however, Tessa and Rachel were sharing the limelight with Bobbins veterans Shelley Winters, Amy Chilton and Tim Jones. Admittedly, Shelley was dead and revived as a zombie, but you can't keep a good ginger down and she was soon sporting a sassy new pulse; and not the only member of the cast to whom this would happen. Tessa and Rachel disappeared for a while, returning as worshippers of a satanic figure until one of them went mad with power and the other allowed the cult they had formed to burn her in a wicker vole or something. Reminiscing about Scary Go Round is like what I imagine remembering a drug-fuelled wilderness period might be like; you're never entirely sure what really happened. Bobbins-born slacker Ryan died and came back, Amy and Shelley travelled back in time via teapot and gazumped Lennon and McCartney's songwriting credits, and supersexy, semi-competent superspy Fallon Young was definitely there, battling international crime with a sassy look and a Chinese burn.

End of an era, take 2.
We met younger characters via Shelley's sister Erin, including Dark Esther – later the star of Allison's actually published as a comic comic Giant Days – and the Boy (son of the Mother and the Father, despite 'the Boy' being confirmed as a nickname; apparently the Family is hella supportive.) Thanks to Jekyll and Hyde potions and an attempt to sell a difficult class to the devil to help pad the school coffee budget (I was teaching at the time; I'm not sure sticking the 'what goes on teacher training day stays on teacher training day' comic up in the staff room went down so well,) Erin sort of ended up as the Queen of Hell. An exchange trip went perilous when the Boy thwarted an attempt by a Wendigo to terrorise France in the guise of an Easter Bunny with the help of the briefly-retired Easter Bell (you see what I mean, right?)

The even younger characters Shauna Wickle and Lottie de Groote featured in a late comic. They were girl detectives, but were pipped to the post in solving a school mystery by boy detectives Linton, Sonny and Jack, despite the boys not appearing in most of the story. Scary Go Round wrapped in September 2009 and new comic Bad Machinery took up the mantle ten days later, following the feud of these intrepid young mystery solvers as they navigated the perils of big school (with some indirect assistance from reformed slacker-turned-inspirational teacher Ryan Beckwith.)

Again, you could be forgiven to thinking that Jack was going
to be the lead.
And now, in April 2017, Bad Machinery has finally wrapped. There were mystery beasts and giant flying walnuts; occult shenanigans and human douchebaggery; love and rivalry; mods and rockers; an inner city grammar school with at least two Selkies in simultaneous attendance; and an attempt to get banned from every municipal swimming pool in the UK by performing all of the prohibited acts on the pool safety poster in a single swimming session. The comic has been brightening my weekdays for more than seven years – with intermittent breaks for Scary Go Round and Bobbins revivals, the original Giant Days strips, and the story of how Erin came back from Hell at least twice and the Boy (now going by his actual name, Eustace) joined Tackleford's exclusive club for those who have actually died and come back by one means or another – but the adventures of the Mystery Solvers are over.

Well, that is to say that they will no longer be front and centre. In 2002 we thought we were losing Shelley and co. and they couldn't stay away for six months. Against pretty much all expectation, Ryan turned out to have trained as a teacher and was in Bad Machinery almost from the off, and even more unexpectedly, Amy turned out to have married him, and later gave Shauna a job. Erin Winters returned from Hell the first time before Bad Machinery kicked off and has been a thorn in the Mystery Girls' side (and source of befuddled admiration for the Mystery Boys) since.

What this means for the future is that I would be most surprised if this is the last we ever heard of Shauna and Lottie, or Mildred, or the Mystery Boys, or Little Claire never turned up again as we march forward into a bold new era of All-New Scary Go Round.
End of an era.

Saturday, 8 April 2017

Reading Roundup - March 2017

Once more I've hit my two book target, so I'm a steady one book behind. I may rethink the Big French Summer idea. In March I wrapped up Gothic with White is for Witching and began Mad People with The Bell Jar, which proved to fall alarmingly within my existing headspace. Still no poetry.

I kicked off Audible's Definitive Sherlock Holmes collection, written of course by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and all excellently read and foreworded by national treasure and fellow Old Queen(1), Stephen Fry. It’s fascinating coming back to the Holmes canon as an adult, steeped in the various western traditions of detective fiction, because as detective fiction they are actually a little unsatisfying. It’s the character who is fascinating; his deductions appear more in the manner of a parlour trick, or perhaps the half-technobabbled reasonings of a CSI CSI. A substantial chunk of many of the narratives – especially the first two novels – is given over to the criminal’s own account of their life, and in this too the stories are notable: That a good half of the perpetrators are as sympathetic as their victims, if not more so.

Naturally, the collection begins with A Study in Scarlet, the first of the Holmes novels. This initial foray into the world of the great detective serves to highlight some of the limitations of the formula, especially when it comes to the longer stories, with almost half of the narrative given over to Jefferson Hope's story, and a number of Holmes' deductions based on information not made available to the reader (a complaint which Doyle later owns, with Holmes making the same criticism to Watson, albeit from his perspective of wishing a clear elucidation of his methods.) The story also hinges on a perception of the Mormon faith which buys into pretty much every ill its early detractors thought of it.

A Study in Scarlet is followed by The Sign of the Four, which wraps up the story of Holmes and Watson with the latter going off to get married after what is very clearly only their second case together, whatever later entries may say. Conan Doyle is on firmer ground with the Indian mutiny than the founding of Salt Lake City, but while his Indian characters are very well-drawn for the time, dear lord but the Andaman pygmy Tonga is something else entirely, a near-bestial creature with the same alien ugliness Conan Doyle ascribed to dinosaurs in The Lost World.

This is followed by The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, the first of the short story collections, including such classics as 'A Scandal in Bohemia', 'The Red-Headed League', 'The Adventure of the Speckled Band' and 'The Adventure of the Copper Beeches'. Even at this stage in the proceedings, a certain repetition was apparent in the stories. The Speckled Band and 'A Case of Identity' both feature women grievously misused by stepfathers to control their fortunes, with the latter featuring one of the cruellest devices in the canon, while 'The Five Orange Pips' is notable for featuring the Ku Klux Klan in much the same role as the Mormons in A Study in Scarlet, as a ruthless secret society employing mysterious, inescapable assassins to punish deserters.

'The Boscombe Valley Mystery' is one of the stories in which the conceit of the narrative most conflicts with the narrative itself. It refers to events which Holmes conspired to conceal, as the guilty party was dying and the innocent not at threat, which feels odd given that Watson is apparently publishing this well within the lifetime of most of those involved. It is especially noteworthy as on several other occasions he refers to matters that he cannot discuss, and the untimely death of Helen Stoner freeing him to speak of the events of the Speckled Band.

'The Man with the Twisted Lip', 'The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle' and 'The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor' are lighter affairs, with no murder involved in any of the cases. 'The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb' is the first of a number of stories in which Holmes addresses a problem before ever visiting the scene (arguably; he never leaves London in 'The Five Orange Pips' either, but he had planned to.) It is also referred to as one of only two which Watson brought to his attention, although this is soon overturned in the next collection, and features a gang of villains who get away while Holmes is rallying the official force. This is another feature we will see again.

Finally, 'The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet' is notable for having a female villain (‘The Engineer’s Thumb’ has a female member of the gang, but she breaks ranks to aid the victim.) As is often the case with such characters in the Holmes canon, she gets away scot free, but with predictions of future unhappiness as her comeuppance.

I also managed to clear up The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes this month, which means everything up to the death of Sherlock Holmes is covered. As The Adventures begins with the unequivocal classic ‘A Scandal in Bohemia’ and “the Woman”, so The Memoirs opens with ‘Silver Blaze’; perhaps a less known story overall, but featuring the original curious incident of the dog in the night time. ‘The Yellow Face’ has a similar deal to ‘The Noble Bachelor’, with a young widow and a second marriage, although here it is a half-black child whose appearance disrupts the happy routine, and I can’t believe that it wasn’t pretty progressive that not only Holmes and Watson but the husband in the case accept the child completely. Similarly, ‘The Stock-Broker’s Clerk’ treads similar, but not identical, ground to ‘The Red-Headed League’, with a gang providing a too-good-to-be-true job as a means of getting someone out of the way for a time.

‘The “Gloria Scott”’ and ‘The Musgrave Ritual’ treat of early cases. The first is notable for the solution being entirely provided by the written narrative of the victim rather than by any deduction of Holmes’, while the latter once more features a female villain who vanishes into the distance to a presumed life of doubt and fear. ‘The Adventure of the Reigate Squire’ pits Holmes against the country set, while another classic, ‘The Crooked Man’ returns to familiar territory with an old offence from India leading to a tragic ending. ‘The Resident Patient’ and ‘The Greek Interpreter’ each feature a puzzle that Holmes successfully solves, but too late to save a life, and the lack of sympathy for the dead man in the latter story is quite shocking. In both cases, the criminal gang involved vanishes into the wind; by this point it is clear that Conan Doyle has a limited interest in arrest and trial scenes.

‘The Naval Treaty’ sees Holmes act for the good of Queen and Country, and his client, and features one of the strongest puzzles in the canon to this point, with pretty much every step of the deduction available for the reader to follow. Finally, in this collection, Fry brings the vital catch in the voice to the closing lines of ‘The Final Problem’, as Holmes gives his life – or so it seems – to end the career of the Napoleon of Crime, Professor Moriarty. Given that it recounts the crowning glory of his career as a detective, ‘The Final Problem’ is notable for not giving any details of the chain of reasoning which led Holmes to his nemesis.

In between chapters of Holmes, I caught a couple of short stories by Neil Gaiman which follow the protagonist of American Gods, Baldur ‘Shadow’ Moon. ‘The Monarch of the Glen’ sees our hero in Scotland on a roundabout return route from Norway, walking the walks and seeing the sights, when he is offered a lucrative job acting as bouncer for a bunch of posh folks from England having a party in a local manse. The locals are an odd bunch and Shadow is having weird dreams, but he chooses to take the job, against the advice of the enigmatic barmaid Jenny and finds himself caught up in an ancient struggle between men and monsters, with no-one to say truly which is worse. Then ‘Black Dog’ brings him to England, and a rural couple with a secret to keep.

The two shorts have many similarities: The rural settings, the old traditions, and of course Shadow’s relentless bad luck with women. Critically, Gaiman captures the difference of feeling between Britain and America. Assuming by its popularity there that his depiction of the roadside faith of America is accurate, he does the same for British folk beliefs, especially those in ‘Black Dog’, practiced slightly furtively by unassuming folk, almost more as habit than anything else. As always, Gaiman as author and reader is an excellent storyteller and the stories are easy to listen to several times over.

The last book for this month is Peter S. Beagle’s The Last Unicorn, which is one I’d been meaning to read for a while. This was the audiobook, but it’ read by Peter S. Beagle himself. As in the Rankin Bass adaptation, it tells the story of a nameless, ageless unicorn who realises that she is the only one of her kind left in the world. She goes in search of the others and learns that a cruel king has imprisoned them all with the aid of a supernatural bull, and with the assistance of an erratic wizard, a cynical romantic and a larval hero she clashes with the King for the fate of magic and her people. In fact, one of the things that really strikes me about the book is just how faithful the animated adaptation (screenwritten by Beagle) actually was. The main difference is Beagle’s cheerfully anachronistic narrative language. Reminiscent of TH White, it takes the novel’s setting from mediaeval fantasy to the same sort of timeless Neverland as The Once and Future King.

Within this Neverland, the story of The Last Unicorn is one of a world of failing wonder. The disappearance of the unicorns leaves a world that, for all its dragons and ogres and heroes, lacks a certain sparkle. Heroing is a job; the tropes of romance are performed in a perfunctory fashion. It’s fantasy as mundanity, and beautifully done; the book is a classic for a reason.


(1) I maintain that this is the correct term for an alumnus of Queens' College.