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sherlock602014-03-23 08:00 am
scfrankles.livejournal.com) wrote in sherlock602014-03-23 08:00 am
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Canon Discussion: The Solitary Cyclist
This week we’re looking at The Solitary Cyclist. As usual, I’ve typed up a few thoughts to get the discussion started.
…the peculiar persecution to which John Vincent Harden, the well-known tobacco millionaire, had been subjected… Crikey. I wonder what it was…
…I observed the slight roughening of the side of the sole caused by the friction of the edge of the pedal. It’s interesting that Watson has picked up some of Holmes’ skills, even though Holmes’ complains about his detective work later on. Though, of course, Watson here knows what to look for—he’s just been told the lady is a cyclist.
"Oh, Cyril is his name!" said Holmes, smiling. "He would not pay you a surprise visit?" That latter sentence strikes me as Holmes asking a difficult question tactfully. A “surprise visit”? It would be extremely odd behaviour for a fiancé: turning up on several different days and then stalking his intended on a bicycle. And that first sentence: it looks at first glance rather endearing – Holmes being indulgent and a little avuncular. But I wonder if the smile is simply a polite one and inside he’s adding the fiancé to his list of possible suspects. This is a very good example of Holmes remaining detached. He can’t be sentimental in his work; he is fully aware that people are sometimes harmed by those that purport to love them. Until he knows more, Cyril Morton is just a piece in the puzzle.
“Then, again, how about the connection between Carruthers and Woodley, since they appear to be men of such a different type?” Why are these two men (sort of) friends? Yes, the plot binds them together, and they had a mutual friend in Ralph Smith. But they must have been friends themselves beforehand in order to come up with the plot together—and they appear to have nothing in common. If one or the other had come up with the plot on his own, there seems to be no reason to look for an accomplice—in fact it only complicates things. It’s possible I suppose that Woodley came up with the idea and thought Carruthers’ daughter made for a good excuse to give Miss Smith a job and get to know her. But I’m sure he could have found other ways to “court” her.
…his austere face was even more severe than usual as he commented upon the things that I had done and the things that I had not. Holmes is being so tiresome here. Before Watson left, he could have told him to make sure he was on the hall side of the road, and then to be sure to go and chat up the local landlord. Watson is not a professional detective—he’s helping Holmes out of the goodness of his heart.
"They're married!" I gasped. Well, we know they’re not: it’s a forced marriage and the clergyman has been defrocked. But there’s something else I need to query: the “ceremony” is taking place outside. Surely that wouldn’t have been legal either? I think even now you can’t marry outside in England. Oh, and there are no witnesses as well. (I’m just saying it’s odd Holmes doesn’t bring these points up too…)
"Well," said I, "you call that love, Mr. Carruthers, but I should call it selfishness." "Maybe the two things go together.” In the midst of the drama and adventure, this always stands out for me as such a poignant and truthful exchange. Watson is so noble and upright when it comes to love, but I think Carruthers probably represents more of us.
Of the fate of Carruthers I have no record, but I am sure that his assault was not viewed very gravely by the Court, since Woodley had the reputation of being a most dangerous ruffian, and I think that a few months were sufficient to satisfy the demands of justice. That’s a little unlikely, isn’t it? Woodley was an “odious person” but Carruthers was guilty of attempted murder. ("No, she's your widow.") Which is even more serious than the crimes the other two were guilty of. And what about Carruthers’ daughter while he was in prison? In the Granada TV version the Mortons look after her, which is a rather sweet solution. But I wonder if that would be likely—a newly married couple looking after a child that, though Mrs Morton was fond of her, they barely knew.
Next Sunday, 30th March, we will be having a look at The Six Napoleons. Hope to see you then.
…the peculiar persecution to which John Vincent Harden, the well-known tobacco millionaire, had been subjected… Crikey. I wonder what it was…
…I observed the slight roughening of the side of the sole caused by the friction of the edge of the pedal. It’s interesting that Watson has picked up some of Holmes’ skills, even though Holmes’ complains about his detective work later on. Though, of course, Watson here knows what to look for—he’s just been told the lady is a cyclist.
"Oh, Cyril is his name!" said Holmes, smiling. "He would not pay you a surprise visit?" That latter sentence strikes me as Holmes asking a difficult question tactfully. A “surprise visit”? It would be extremely odd behaviour for a fiancé: turning up on several different days and then stalking his intended on a bicycle. And that first sentence: it looks at first glance rather endearing – Holmes being indulgent and a little avuncular. But I wonder if the smile is simply a polite one and inside he’s adding the fiancé to his list of possible suspects. This is a very good example of Holmes remaining detached. He can’t be sentimental in his work; he is fully aware that people are sometimes harmed by those that purport to love them. Until he knows more, Cyril Morton is just a piece in the puzzle.
“Then, again, how about the connection between Carruthers and Woodley, since they appear to be men of such a different type?” Why are these two men (sort of) friends? Yes, the plot binds them together, and they had a mutual friend in Ralph Smith. But they must have been friends themselves beforehand in order to come up with the plot together—and they appear to have nothing in common. If one or the other had come up with the plot on his own, there seems to be no reason to look for an accomplice—in fact it only complicates things. It’s possible I suppose that Woodley came up with the idea and thought Carruthers’ daughter made for a good excuse to give Miss Smith a job and get to know her. But I’m sure he could have found other ways to “court” her.
…his austere face was even more severe than usual as he commented upon the things that I had done and the things that I had not. Holmes is being so tiresome here. Before Watson left, he could have told him to make sure he was on the hall side of the road, and then to be sure to go and chat up the local landlord. Watson is not a professional detective—he’s helping Holmes out of the goodness of his heart.
"They're married!" I gasped. Well, we know they’re not: it’s a forced marriage and the clergyman has been defrocked. But there’s something else I need to query: the “ceremony” is taking place outside. Surely that wouldn’t have been legal either? I think even now you can’t marry outside in England. Oh, and there are no witnesses as well. (I’m just saying it’s odd Holmes doesn’t bring these points up too…)
"Well," said I, "you call that love, Mr. Carruthers, but I should call it selfishness." "Maybe the two things go together.” In the midst of the drama and adventure, this always stands out for me as such a poignant and truthful exchange. Watson is so noble and upright when it comes to love, but I think Carruthers probably represents more of us.
Of the fate of Carruthers I have no record, but I am sure that his assault was not viewed very gravely by the Court, since Woodley had the reputation of being a most dangerous ruffian, and I think that a few months were sufficient to satisfy the demands of justice. That’s a little unlikely, isn’t it? Woodley was an “odious person” but Carruthers was guilty of attempted murder. ("No, she's your widow.") Which is even more serious than the crimes the other two were guilty of. And what about Carruthers’ daughter while he was in prison? In the Granada TV version the Mortons look after her, which is a rather sweet solution. But I wonder if that would be likely—a newly married couple looking after a child that, though Mrs Morton was fond of her, they barely knew.
Next Sunday, 30th March, we will be having a look at The Six Napoleons. Hope to see you then.