Sherlock Holmes

At some point back I’d picked up an older hardcover copy of The Complete Sherlock Holmes, and since I’ve found myself watching (and enjoying) the series “Elementary” on TV (no, I’ve missed BBC’s “Sherlock” thus far but I’m quite sure I would love it)—as well as thoroughly enjoying the Robert Downey Jr. “Sherlock Holmes” movies where he plays Sherlock as basically autistically dysfunctional—I decided I needed to properly read the original stories. (I had previously only ever read two or three at most.)

They are as enjoyable as you’d expect, and I have to say, I can quite see where the “modern” interpretation of Holmes comes from: he’s (mostly) able to function in society, but Sir Arthur Conan Doyle pretty well nails the combination of bipolar/manic depressive behavior combined with the savant-level of genius that’s borderline dysfuntional. And he’s a cocaine addict. (Which I knew.)

It’s good stuff, but I have to adjust my mental model to account for the fact that (in the early stories, at least) both Holmes and Watson are no older than their early 30s. Which, to my mind, makes the Downey Jr. Sherlock movies actually… pretty true to form.

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