Triggers and Ratings: Mild language, Crime solving, crime scenes
This book feature is like and AU of the world of Sherlock Holmes. The main Idea is: What if there was someone who was just as smart as Sherlock? That someone is then 15 y/o Mary Russell, who meets Sherlock by chance, and eventually becomes his apprentice. Together they solve crimes in a sherlockian fashion, along with the occasional help of Dr. Watson and Mrs. Hudson
I highly recommend this book if you are a Sherlock Holmes fan (book, BBC, or RDJ). It is in close keeping with the original book by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and it very engaging. You can read just the first book and not feel anything is missing if you don’t want to read all 14 of the series.
Hi! I am looking for some detective fiction to read, and I was wondering if you could help. I love Dorothy L. Sayers, Arthur Conan Doyle, and Agatha Christie's "Tommy and Tuppence" series (although not so much Miss Marple or Poirot). I would be so grateful for any suggestions. Thanks!
A kindred spirit! Splendid! I love discussing/recommending detective fiction. I’ll do my best to provide appropriate suggestions. I’ll try to subdivide these suggestions according to which of your given authors/series they resemble (based on my subjective characterizations of each…!)
Conan Doyle: briskly and vividly told stories, occasionally macabre adventures, endearing characters at their heart. Alas, many are the disappointing epigones of the canon.
Laurie R. King’s The Beekeeper’s Apprentice, and her subsequent Mary Russell books, are in my opinion really enjoyable novels featuring the Master and postdating the canon.
Georges Simenon’s Maigret novels. If you’ve never read Simenon, treat yourself. Maigret is a humane, humorous, sometimes grumpy sensualist, and Simenon is a dazzlingly good prose stylist.
Donna Leon’s novels featuring Commissario Brunetti and the city of Venice are atmospheric, literate, and clever. The eerie canals are evoked as vividly as the streets of late Victorian London.
Ngaio Marsh’s Inspector Alleyn novels. Like Conan Doyle, Marsh wrote over the course of many decades, and her taciturn but compassionate detective has to confront a changing world. Alleyn is an urbane, Shakespeare-quoting Inspector (later Chief Inspector) at the Yard. The tabloids always comment on his good looks, much to his irritation. Accompanied by his loyal, laboriously French-learning Sergeant, he solves crimes everywhere from country houses to theatres to the hills of New Zealand.
Christie’s Tommy and Tuppence novels: breezy, lighthearted novels, occasionally melodramatic. Young Man and Young Woman meet, fall in love, solve crimes.
Patricia Wentworth’s Miss Silver novels. Miss Silver is a bit Marple-ish, but she’s less eccentric, and less prominent in many of the novels (I happen to rather dote on Miss Marple, but even if she puts you off, I don’t think you’d mind Miss Silver.) Anyway: Wentworth was enormously prolific, and could be formulaic, but her novels are generally gentle and charming. The good end happily, and the bad unhappily. The one I regularly reread is The Case of William Smith, which I find irresistibly heartwarming.
Kerry Greenwood’s Phryne Fisher novels. I’ve read only the first few of these in their entirety, but I find them great fun, and they’re deliberately playful with the tradition of detective novels.
Ashley Weaver’s Murder at the Brightwell is a romp set in the 1930s. Heroine Amory Ames has to juggle a wastrel husband, an old flame, and an unexpected death at a seaside hotel. Hijinks ensue! The second volume in the series was recently published, but I haven’t gotten my hands on it yet.
Ellis Peters’ Brother Cadfael series. Wrongs are righted and crimes solved by… a Benedictine monk in the 12th century! Young love blossoms! The social setting is nicely evoked, and the characterizations are good. Brother Cadfael is sometimes aided by a taciturn sergeant-at-arms. It’s all quite pleasing.
Dorothy L. Sayers’ Wimsey novels. (I love Sayers SO MUCH; she’s one of the novelists for whom a shared passion can jumpstart a friendship.) For me, what distinguishes her novels are their superb literary quality and their nuanced engagement with social issues.
Elizabeth George’s Inspector Lynley novels. I know these look like doorstops, but they’re so addictive that I’ve gotten through the series in a series of binge-reading weekends, more or less. Lynley has Wimsey in his literary lineage: he’s a golden-haired toff with a soft streak a mile wide and a guilt complex a mile deep. His professional partner is Barbara Havers, junk food addict, fashion disaster, and 100% Good Person. I adore her. They in turn are aided by Winston Nkata, East Londoner, ex-gang member, and total sweetheart. Also featured is a disabled forensic specialist who shares Lynley’s taste in whiskeys. These are dark, and I have occasional quibbles, but I find them interesting.
P.D. James. I’d recommend either the Adam Dalgliesh books or the Cordelia Gray books with a good conscience. James is an excellent writer, and her novels are atmospheric and subtle. You might start with Cover Her Face or The Skull Beneath the Skin.
Josephine Tey, like Sayers, had a limited output, but her novels are fascinatingly varied. I think Brat Farrar might be my favorite; also good is A Shilling for Candles.
Colin Dexter’s Inspector Morse novels. Dexter’s novels are, I think, brilliant. They are distinguished by tight characterization, deliciously paced prose, plotting that shares Sayers’ tendency towards the absurd and the macabre, while remaining conscientiously within the terms of fair play for detective fiction. Also shared with Sayers is a delight in cruciverbalism and wordplay of all kinds. Morse is not the most likable of protagonists, but he is one of the most fascinating.
Bonus round: G.K. Chesterton’s Father Brown novels. I think these are seriously underrated. Give them a miss if you’re likely to be bored by theology, but Chesterton’s prose is second to none. Worth reading for the descriptions of landscape alone, really. The plots are elaborate, sometimes delicate and sometimes melodramatic, and the dumpy little parish priest at their center is wonderful.
Adroit and orphaned teenager Mary Russell (Eleanor Tomlinson) becomes friends with the retired Sherlock Holmes (Daniel Day-Lewis) when she physically stumbles over him in the Sussex Downs in 1915. From that moment on the two take on an unforeseen relationship, with Russell first learning his various methods of deduction through an informal but profound apprenticeship, and then through a full partnership when they take on the case of a little girl’s abduction. But Russell’s education and Holmes’s experience are put to the test when an unknown bomber threatens their lives and everything they hold dear. Also starring Jodhi May, Oded Fehr, and Jonathan Pryce as Doctor Watson.
I had just begun to pin my hair back together when a light tap at the door startled me.
“Saint George here, slayer of dragons, at your service,” drawled a light male voice.
I opened it, and my rescuer slipped in.
“I thought I’d check to see if my services were still needed, though short of a bigamous elopement, I cannot see how I might keep those two from the dinner party.”
“Heaven forbid. No, we’re going, as soon as I’ve taken my leave of the Westburys. Do you think you could—”
“A glass of bubbly under the rose bower is the most I can manage, I’m afraid.”
“That would be perfect. Thank you, you dear man, you’ve saved me from a potentially difficult situation.”
“The salvation of fair ladies is the entire purpose of my class, in case you had not realised. When ladies stop being in need of rescue, all like me will fade away.”
“Like King Arthur, waiting to come again when England has need of him?”
“Good Lord, what a dreadful thought. Give me an honest retirement anytime. Speakin’ of which, kindly present my greetings and regards to the gentleman with the pipe.”
“I will. Come down for a weekend when this is all over, and I’ll tell you all the sordid details. There’s even an immensely early manuscript for you to admire.”
“A first edition?”
“Without a doubt.”
“Interestin’. I shall hold you to the offer. Well, it’s been loverly, ducks, but two other ladies await my escort services. Give me five minutes to remove the dragons from downstairs, and the coast, as the fogbound lighthouse keeper said to his wife, will be clear.”
“Thank you,” I said again, and impulsively leant forward and kissed his cheek. He very nearly blushed, then busied himself with cleaning his monocle with his silk handkerchief and screwing it energetically over his eye.
“Yes, well, ta and all that. Cheerio.”
Lord Peter Wimsey’s cameo (part 5/6) in Laurie R. King’s A Letter of Mary
I became, in other words, more like Holmes than the man himself: brilliant, driven to a point of obsession, careless of myself, mindless of others, but without the passion and the deep-down, inbred love for the good in humanity that was the basis of his entire career. He loved the humanity that could not understand or fully accept him; I, in the midst of the same human race, became a thinking machine.
While wasting time on tumblr, I let the teabag stew in my mug. And as I added milk I realised what a strong cup of tea I had made. “Oh well,” thought I, “at least I have a proper cup of tea”. And then I reflected on how very English that sentiment was.
Having never seen, read, or otherwise experienced Lawrence of Arabia, I cannot comment on any similarities or differences between that august work and our current endeavor. I’ll add it to my list though. You think I should go with the book or the film?
What I would like to comment on is how multi-faceted people are and how we get to glimpse those facets. You think you know someone, you have him all worked out in your head. And then circumstances throw you into a new context and you discover something new. It has always been there, you just couldn’t see it.
You think you know Sherlock Holmes. You have him pegged as an authority figure. And in England, he absolutely is. But then you go to Palestine and you watch him submit, within reason, to all sorts of people.
You think you know Ali. He is hot-headed. He is opinionated. He is blunt. He is thoroughly Bedu. And then you put him in a sitting room with General Allenby and he becomes throughly British, calm, submissive, and professional.
You think you know Mahmoud. He is a serious man. He is the authority figure of your little band. And yet you watch him take the passenger seat of your investigation and let Holmes take over the questioning. AND you watch him very subtly reveal that he has a sense of humor! (You’re right. That scene was bloody brilliant.)
So. Now that we have been introduced and re-introduced to our cast of characters, the real adventure can begin.
As far as the end of chapter 12, I can tell you that one reason people experience temporary amnesia after a head trauma: The process of memory consolidation is disrupted. It takes time between the event and the formation of a long-term memory. If your brain is jostled too hard, all the signals get confused and disrupted.
Now, what could have happend to Russell’s brain that could have disrupted her memory consolidation and storage of whatever took place after leaving General Allenby and his luxurious bathtub?
Holmes muttered something from the window, where one of his long fingers pulled back one edge of the thick draperies. Watson did not hear it, but to me it sounded like, ‘Goodness and mercy shall plague me all the days of my life.’
A/N: With apologies to Laurie R. King and
her book “The Beekeeper’s Apprentice”, from which I have shamelessly stolen the
idea of traveling in a Vardo in pursuit of the bad guys. I’m not completely happy with this, but I’ve run out of time and something is better than nothing, yes? Also, still unbeta’d because hahaha who needs words to make sense? Will go up on FF.net and Ao3 tomorrow.
ALSO - this is sort of a sequel to last year’s Sherlolly Appreciation Week fic “A Letter to Mary”. You probably don’t need to read that one to figure out what is going on in this one, though.
Week 2017 – Day Five (Canon Compliant – The Abominable Bride)
Another Letter to Mary
My Dearest Mary,
I do not know when this letter will reach
you. Holmes has forbidden me from
posting any missives home for the time being.
We are traveling incognito; and he does not wish to offer any indication
to overly curious eyes that we are in any way connected to the well-known detective
stories. If ever there was a wife who
would understand the need for such discretion, it is you, my love.
As you are aware, Holmes, Hooper and I are on
the trail of a small band of murderous men.
Another corpse was located in a small hamlet less than half-a-day’s ride
from the initial murder. Holmes suspects
the man was in league with the thieves and was deemed a liability for one
reason or another. He thinks the men
have begun to turn on one another.
Speed and stealth are paramount, for Holmes
feels more deaths are imminent if the blackguards become aware of our pursuit. He believes they will be going to ground
until such time as it will be safe to fence the item.
As such, we have abandoned our conspicuous
carriage and driver. Holmes has managed
to procure a Vardo—a sort of traveling wagon—from a Romani gentleman, as well
as a horse to pull it, and three sets of simple clothing in exchange for a
hefty sum. They have made arrangements
for the return of the wagon once our current mission has been fulfilled. In addition, the man advised Holmes as to the
best roads to travel upon and what small villages would be the most accepting
of three strange men passing through.
When next we set off, we were disguised as a
set of brothers in route to visit our dear mother some far distance away.
Rules: Answer these questions and tag 10 amazing followers you want to get to know better.
Nicknames: Gracie, occasionally, but I’m very particular about who gets to call me Gracie.
Zodiac sign: I’m a mysterious Scorpio :)
Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw
Ethnicity: European blend, but mainly Welsh, Irish, and Italian.
Favorite fruit: Mangoes
Favorite season: Fall
Favorite book series: I love Laurie R. King’s Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes mysteries. The dynamic between the characters is phenomenal, and the stories explore so many ideas beyond the central mysteries in them. (I have to confess that I haven’t read them all yet!)
Favorite fictional characters: Jane Eyre is my favorite fictional character ever, but there are too many favorites to list.
A fictional character I’d like as a sibling: June from Don’t Trust the B in Apartment 23. She has a really good energy!
Favorite flower: Hibiscus
Favorite scent: Pine Trees
Favorite color: Today, it’s green
Favorite animal: Fox
Favorite artist/band: Florence + the Machine
Coffee, tea, or hot cocoa: TEA!!!
Average sleep hours: I need about 9 to be well-rested, but I usually get 6 or less.
Number of blankets you sleep with: 3 or more, unless it’s really hot out.
Dream trip: Right now I want to be in Paris.
Last thing Googled: “What is the Mary Russell series called?” It turns out that it doesn’t have an official name!
Blog created: I created this blog in the fall of 2016, but I really got active with it in the January of 2017.
How many blogs do I follow: About 1800! I’m trying to cut down on the blogs I follow right now, though, since I’m not seeing as much of the original content created by poets and artists as I want to.
What do I usually post about: I usually post my original poetry, my blackout poetry, positive posts, and occasional updates about my life.
It’s always a race as to who can read them first. And Russell always wins cause she’s a speed reader. So there’s usually things like this. ’*Gasp. Oh my… OH MY!’ I’m like, ‘Shut up! I’m still on page 2!’
Matthew Rhys, describing what happens when he and his co-star/girlfriend get the latest script for The Americans
Hearing Matthew refer to Keri as Russell reminded me of the Laurie R. King Sherlock Holmes/Mary Russell novels. In those books, Holmes always uses “Russell” when speaking to the woman who becomes his partner and then later becomes his wife.
This is from the podcast for the season 4 premiere. (Warning - the podcast contains spoilers):
The cast and crew also discussed how this season doesn’t have big story lines. Instead, the characters will be dealing with the emotional costs from the story lines of past seasons. The Americans has often been described as the master of the slow burn. I’m interpreting the discussion in the podcast to mean that the fire is flaring up now.
And Joel Fields had the following to say about the disclosing of secrets which I interpret as an ominous sign of what may come this season:
“Well, that’s the thing about secrets. Just like bioweapons, once they’re out they can start to spread.”