The Dissecting Room . . . June 1990

The Game

This month's essay is dedicated to the Pondicherry Lodge of Springfield, Illinois -- in particular, those members thereof who kindly sat through my rambling oratory of a few months back. In the following paragraphs I shall touch on some points I made that night, and perhaps even expand upon them. If the resulting product has any merit, said members may consider it partial repayment for letting me experiment upon them half-cocked.

Cowabunga, dudes.

Christopher Redmond, that brainy Gamesman from across the border, recently introed an issue of Canadian Holmes with a terrific essay, on where Sherlockian ideas come from. I would call his essay "marvelous," "pure genius," and a few other extravagant terms, but I have to admit that I only do so because his thoughts on the matter parallel my own. As frightening as it may seem, Chris Redmond gets his Sherlockian ideas from the same place I do.

Pick up the nearest copy of the Canon. Yes, the Holmes stories. Pick it up. You, too, Bob. Okay, now let it fall open (you may have to drop paperback editions; they don't fall open so easily). Without hesitating, thrust your finger blindly at the printed page. Now, if you aren't a master of Sinanju and haven't pierced the book with your thrusting finger, read me the line your finger has hit upon. Yes, I know I'm a mere mortal and won't hear you, but read it aloud anyway. It's for your own good.

Done? (If you aren't following along here, shame on you. Mycroft knows). Here's my quote:

"The great minister showed perceptible hesitation."

I hope your quote was longer and had to do with Holmes. As quotes go, mine (from PRIO) is somewhat weak. But look at all the questions that one statement poses:

Why was the minister so great? What was he minister of? How did he show his hesitations facial tic, a step back, a gasp or what? Since Watson is penning the words, he must have been the one who perceived the hesitation. Did he notice immediately, or much later when he realized no one was talking? Or did Holmes tell Watson later that he himself perceived the hesitation? Was Watson actually blind? Did Watson read those occasional letters to Holmes because they were written in braille? Was Watson's blindness tied to his association with Conan Dovle, who studied to become an eye specialist in 1891? Or was Doyle's decision a result of his friend's ailment? Did Mary Morstan poke Watson's eyes out for looking at other women?

Ach du lieber!

Now, if I were a true researcher, I might follow up on the Duke of Holderness, my quote's subject. His greatness in the Canon is never fully outlined, outside of some titles.and a vague allusion to wealth. Some research into the British cabinet prior to that time might turn up some interesting facts as to how he got to be great, as well as what the heck he was minister of.

But as the rest of my questions show, I prefer to ponder Holmes and Watson, and I do have a tendency toward the extreme (or silly, depending on your point of view) . A case could be made for Watson's blindness: he had a mysterious war wound, never seemed to get the phase of the moon quite right, couldn't see a swamp adder if it bit his nose -- that sort of thing. That's my particular point of view, probably a tad unlike your own (which you're now thanking the Lord for, I'm sure).

So reread your own quote, grab a pen and paper, and dash off as many questions as possible, whatever comes into your head. Let one question lead to another, or take whatever unconnected whims pop up. You can then choose the questions that most interest you to follow up on. Research them or just figure out the answers in your own mind. Write a pastiche. Write an article. Write a friend and just ask them your most puzzling questions.

This little exercise is the heart of the Grand Game. The core of Sherlockiana is to be found here -- that bit of literary archaeology that can bring out the Indiana Jones in us all. It also makes a pleasant party game, as Pondicherry Lodgers and various others will attest.