On a postmodern Sherlock

What is the secret behind the BBC’s current production of Sherlock? The character is over a hundred years old and yet people, fans, readers, have been waiting in great anticipation for the third season of a post-modern adaption of Conan Doyle’s famous Victorian consulting detective. Doyle never really loved his larger than life character, but he did understand that he had created something much larger than himself, rather to his own surprise, actually. Conan Doyle, the writer, thoroughly underestimated his own ability to tap into the imagination of the reading public and their desire to seek order and justice in a world completely devoid of either one. Sherlock, with Watson at his side, was always able to see through the fog, eliminate the red-herrings, make his deduction and apprehend the criminal. This kind of feel-good fantasy restores ones faith in a world plagued by dishonesty, disorder, and chaos in which the evil proliferate and the good die young. There is nothing realistic about Doyle’s stories, but then again, that’s not the point. The fact that this dysfunctional brainiac can solve a seemingly opaque problem by simply using his wits is balm for a tired soul. Readers are people too, and Conan Doyle’s character is a hero who isn’t afraid to mix it up with criminals of many different stripes. Readers admire and love him because he makes their real world better by offering up a bit of hope in a dark, dark world. Watson is our real-time stand-in who accompanies Holmes on his forays into the country, acting as sounding board and backup, our vicarious substitute that lets us experience the case as it develops, riding trains, tracking suspects, examining bodies, questioning witnesses, going to the opera. The current BBC production of Sherlock understands all of that as it updates the Sherlock Holmes experience for new generations of readers and viewers. This Sherlock texts, and Watson writes a blog. The production values are five-star, the scripts are brilliant, the actors are genius, and this business of making us all wait for the next set of shows is over-the-top genius marketing. This current incarnation proceeds naturally from the original material, pays homage to it, and slyly winks at those of us who know the original texts. One might cynically say that nothing matches the original, but one also has to admit that this new adaption is a lot of fun.

On a postmodern Sherlock

What is the secret behind the BBC’s current production of Sherlock? The character is over a hundred years old and yet people, fans, readers, have been waiting in great anticipation for the third season of a post-modern adaption of Conan Doyle’s famous Victorian consulting detective. Doyle never really loved his larger than life character, but he did understand that he had created something much larger than himself, rather to his own surprise, actually. Conan Doyle, the writer, thoroughly underestimated his own ability to tap into the imagination of the reading public and their desire to seek order and justice in a world completely devoid of either one. Sherlock, with Watson at his side, was always able to see through the fog, eliminate the red-herrings, make his deduction and apprehend the criminal. This kind of feel-good fantasy restores ones faith in a world plagued by dishonesty, disorder, and chaos in which the evil proliferate and the good die young. There is nothing realistic about Doyle’s stories, but then again, that’s not the point. The fact that this dysfunctional brainiac can solve a seemingly opaque problem by simply using his wits is balm for a tired soul. Readers are people too, and Conan Doyle’s character is a hero who isn’t afraid to mix it up with criminals of many different stripes. Readers admire and love him because he makes their real world better by offering up a bit of hope in a dark, dark world. Watson is our real-time stand-in who accompanies Holmes on his forays into the country, acting as sounding board and backup, our vicarious substitute that lets us experience the case as it develops, riding trains, tracking suspects, examining bodies, questioning witnesses, going to the opera. The current BBC production of Sherlock understands all of that as it updates the Sherlock Holmes experience for new generations of readers and viewers. This Sherlock texts, and Watson writes a blog. The production values are five-star, the scripts are brilliant, the actors are genius, and this business of making us all wait for the next set of shows is over-the-top genius marketing. This current incarnation proceeds naturally from the original material, pays homage to it, and slyly winks at those of us who know the original texts. One might cynically say that nothing matches the original, but one also has to admit that this new adaption is a lot of fun.

On "La muerte y la brújula" (by Borges)

“Death and the Compass” is a strange tale of problem-solving gone crazy and revenge. A weird riff on the stories of Sherlock Holmes, this is the detective story turned on its head. Both the detectives and the reader fall into the same preconceived concept that if a crime has been committed that the clues will point to a solution. What would happen if the the clues are false and create the illusion of a crime, but not the crime which is really being committed? What if the real crime behind the clues is invisible to everyone except the criminal? Except for the final paragraphs where the story goes off the rails, Borges’s strange detective tale starts out being a pretty standard whodunit taking place in urban Buenos Aires. Clues are strewn about the story as if they were going out of style. An old rabbi, who was working on some arcane Jewish mysticism, is murdered. It looks as though diamonds and sapphires might be involved, but everything is murky. The detective, Eric Lonnröt, is on the case, reading the rabbi’s research and tracking down clues. There are two more murders, and Lonnröt thinks he has the case solved, working his way through a labyrinth of strange clues, arcane literature, and geographic locations, using his compass to come up with the location of the fourth, and final, crime. He is hard on the heals of Red Sharlock, a criminal mastermind of organized crime in the city. Borges really knows how to suck in his readers, counting on reader expectations regarding the genre to put down a path of clues that can only lead to disaster. I could write out the solution, but then again, why let the cat out of the bag? The very story, the details, the clues, the characters all form a perfectly designed and orchestrated trap into which both the detective and the reader falls. The best part of all is that Borges gives the reader the solution from the very beginning. What neither detective nor reader understand is the difference between the real world and a simulacra of the world–Borges’s words, not mine. The solutions to most problems are usually the most simple ones which are linked in a direct line from problem to solution, and there is nothing either arcane or obscure about a true solution.

On "La muerte y la brújula" (by Borges)

“Death and the Compass” is a strange tale of problem-solving gone crazy and revenge. A weird riff on the stories of Sherlock Holmes, this is the detective story turned on its head. Both the detectives and the reader fall into the same preconceived concept that if a crime has been committed that the clues will point to a solution. What would happen if the the clues are false and create the illusion of a crime, but not the crime which is really being committed? What if the real crime behind the clues is invisible to everyone except the criminal? Except for the final paragraphs where the story goes off the rails, Borges’s strange detective tale starts out being a pretty standard whodunit taking place in urban Buenos Aires. Clues are strewn about the story as if they were going out of style. An old rabbi, who was working on some arcane Jewish mysticism, is murdered. It looks as though diamonds and sapphires might be involved, but everything is murky. The detective, Eric Lonnröt, is on the case, reading the rabbi’s research and tracking down clues. There are two more murders, and Lonnröt thinks he has the case solved, working his way through a labyrinth of strange clues, arcane literature, and geographic locations, using his compass to come up with the location of the fourth, and final, crime. He is hard on the heals of Red Sharlock, a criminal mastermind of organized crime in the city. Borges really knows how to suck in his readers, counting on reader expectations regarding the genre to put down a path of clues that can only lead to disaster. I could write out the solution, but then again, why let the cat out of the bag? The very story, the details, the clues, the characters all form a perfectly designed and orchestrated trap into which both the detective and the reader falls. The best part of all is that Borges gives the reader the solution from the very beginning. What neither detective nor reader understand is the difference between the real world and a simulacra of the world–Borges’s words, not mine. The solutions to most problems are usually the most simple ones which are linked in a direct line from problem to solution, and there is nothing either arcane or obscure about a true solution.