A Study in Sussex Downs

The Beekeeper’s Apprentice, by Laurie R. King

While I am not a rabid Holmesian, I have of course read, on several occasions, all the accounts of the Great Detective’s casework published by his companion, Dr. Watson (with the assistance of that kind gentleman, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle). As well, I have from time to time enjoyed pastiches written by others who, inspired by the astonishing feats of deduction of which the master was capable, have attempted to recreate the spirit of the true Holmes in some fictional guise.

Recently, in researching the author of a post-apocalyptic novel I read last year (Califia’s Daughters, by Leigh Richards), I discovered that Richards, under the name Laurie R. King, is responsible for the publication of a series of accounts of Holmes’ life after his announced retirement to Sussex Downs to keep bees. Suspicious, naturally, at the news that manuscripts revealing a hitherto unknown picture of Holmes’ life after his retirement had surfaced, I nonetheless was determined to apply myself to the first of these new accounts and see for myself, if I could, whether it was a hoax, a clever fiction, or, unlikely as it might seem, the truth.

And now, having read the first of these books, The Beekeeper’s Apprentice, I must admit, I do not quite know what to make of it. The narrator of the supposed memoir, Mary Russell, is a young American girl, recently orphaned and heiress to an estate of some size, transplanted to the household of her nearest surviving relative in Sussex, there to remain under said relative’s care until she attains her majority. Her description of herself and her habits sets her apart from many other young persons of her situation and sex, suggesting that she is possessed of a not inconsiderable brilliance of mind combined with, to put it kindly, a significant degree of eccentricity.

As the memoir – if such it is – opens, Miss Russell quite literally stumbles across Holmes observing bees on the downs, and he, seemingly intrigued by her powers of intellect and observation – quite marked in a person so young – assumes the role of her mentor, and eventually begins to train her in his own erstwhile profession of private investigator. Eventually, Miss Russell becomes involved in his investigations – for while he is supposedly retired, it appears that the government of England still has need of Holmes on matters requiring great skill and delicacy, and his own natural curiosity prevails in other instances where a mystery is, as one might say, afoot. One also may read into the account intimations of a tenderer sentiment growing between the two, not unlike that which is known to have flourished for some time between Holmes and his companion Dr Watson.

The account is well-written, and whether fact or fantasy, it cannot be denied that the author has captured the essence of Holmes as he well might have been in the years following his withdrawal from London life. Further, the character of Miss Russell, while quite unusual, does leave the reader with a sense of her being a formidable young woman, and one who, like the detective’s quondam adversary Irene Adler, might pique the interest of a man not otherwise known for an inclination toward the fairer sex.

I know not if this is indeed a true account of Holmes’ later life, but I am resolved to continue reading the story of Mary Russell and her Sherlock Holmes, for it seems to me that, if this be not a true memoir, then it is nonetheless what could have been, and that, for me, is sufficient.

Midnight reading

Aegri Somnia, (eds.) Jason Sizemore and Gill Ainsworth

Despite its name – which means, in Latin, “a sick man’s dream,” this is a collection of stories to keep you awake at night. As Sizemore says in his introduction, “when you present a theme such as Aegri Somnia to a group of twisted horror writers, well, you should expect disturbing results.”

Now, I don’t read a lot of material that falls into the realms that can be variously described as horror, dark fantasy, supernatural horror, or horror fantasy (is there a specific name for dark or horror science fiction? – because there’s certainly some of that in this anthology too). But “a lot” is a relative term. I have more than a nodding acquaintance with some of the early masters – Shelley, Stoker, Poe, Lovecraft, Bloch, Smith – and some of the modern greats – King, Straub, Koontz, Striber, Wilson, Barker, Rice – and a few others along the way. In fact, when I’m in the mood, I derive a profound visceral pleasure from the experience of being freaked out of my skull.

Which brings us back to Aegri Somnia.

I must admit, in the interests of full disclosure, that I bought this collection because of one story, “YY,” by Jennifer Pelland. Pelland is not only a personal friend, but someone with a great deal of talent as a writer, and I’m delighted to see her work in publication. “YY” is a gruesome tale about misogyny, paternity, posterity, and what can happen when science is mis-used in support of questionable ideology. I enjoyed the story very much, as I knew I would.

Not unexpectedly, there are lots of other chilling freak-out reads in this collection. Some of my other favourites from the collection are:

“The League of Lost Girls” by Christopher Rowe – a satirical look at the conventions of the drama, with a true horror twist at the end.

“Nothing of Me” by Eugie Foster – A rich reworking of Greek legends, where the greatest horror lies in what we do to ourselves.

“Heal Thyself” by Scott Nicholson – in which the question is raised, not just for each of us, but for society as a whole: which is worse, the memory of past horrors committed, or the fear of retribution long-delayed.

“Letters from Weirdside” by Lavie Tidhar – a chilling and intriguing meditation on the processes of creativity and the sources of dreams and nightmares.

“Mens Rea” by Steven Savile – I have a particular, personal horror of being accused, hunted, punished, unjustly, of being innocent and yet trapped in the fate of the guilty. This story pushed those buttons, hard. And it doesn’t come out all right in the end, which is why this is a personal horror, because you know, the cavalry doesn’t usually come riding over the hill at the very last moment.

“Well of the Waters” by Mari Adkins – this little story about things falling apart draws on some very traditional Celtic elements – and if you know anything about me by now, you’ll know I can’t resist being drawn into a story like that.

Other stories included in the anthology – and all of them worth reading, even if they did not strike me quite as powerfully as the others:

“All Praise to the Dreamer” by Nancy Frieda
“On the Shoulders of Giants” by Bryn Sparks
“Dream Takers” by Rhonda Eudaly
“Wishbones” by Cherie Priest
“All Becomes as Wormwood” by Angeline Hawkes

Just the thing for reading on a dark and windy night, when you’re all alone…

One Brief Shining moment

The Doom of Camelot, (ed.) James Lowder.

This is a collection of original stories (and a few poems), all of which focus, in their own way, on the tragedy of Camelot, its fatal flaw – whatever the author envisions that to be. What brought about the end of the age of Arthur, the promise that has inspired so many visions since the first elements of this Matter of Britain were set to song or memory or paper?

For some authors in this collection, it is an inevitable doom, brought on by the slow failing of an ageing king, whether in body or in fighting spirit and kingship, which brings about weakening of alliances, an increased Saxon threat from outside and challenges to leadership from within (“A Hermit’s Tale” by Catherine Wells, “The Last Road” by Elizabeth Wyrick Thompson, “Saxon Midnight” by Darrell Schweitzer).

For others, it is some variation or consequence on the tragic lovers’ triangle – Arthur, Guenivere and Arthur’s greatest knight (usually but not always Lancelot) – that carries within it the seeds of doom. (“In the Forest Perilous” by Cherith Baldry, “Hidden Blades” by Elaine Cunningham)

Another theme addressed by some of these stories is that of the failure of the Quest in its deepest sense – the great ideals which are simply too much for humans, with their frailties and flaws, to sustain for long, and which even detract from the simple task to do what is right. (“The last Idle of the King” by Phyllis Ann Karr, “Grail Wisdom” by India Edghill, “The Shadow of a Sword” by Ed Greenwood, “The Knight Who Wasn’t There” by Douglas W Clark).

Some stories focus on the idea of struggle between good and evil, light and darkness – often positioning Arthur’s sister (whether she be named Morgaine, Morgause, or something else) as the great rival who will eventually find a way to introduce corruption into the heart of her brother’s bright and shining hour (“The Corruption of Perfection” by Mike Ashley, “How Sharper than a Serpent’s Tooth” by Meredith L Patterson).

For some authors the doom of Camelot lies in multiple weaknesses and flaws, woven together with the light and hope. (Three Queens Weeping” by C.A. Gardner, “Surrendering the Blade” by Marcie Lynn Tentchoff, “Avillion” by Verlyn Flieger).

And at the end of it all, Susan Fry reminds us in “The Battle, Lost” of how little the great deeds of noble men and women have meant throughout the centuries to the simple peasant who lives at the mercy of weather, war and the demands of those great nobles as they pursue their glorious dreams.