It was on the first of December 1887, in Beaton’s Christmas Annual, that Sherlock Holmes made his debut with A Study in Scarlet, changing the history of popular literature forever.
I will refrain from talking about how Holmes was a central character in the building of my growth as a reader, as you can probably find other Holmes-related posts linked below through WordPress’ handy algorithm. To celebrate the birthday, anyway, and to start the Christmas season in the right mood, here’s the BBC 1968 adaptation of A Study in Scarlet, featuring Peter Cushing as Holmes. Enjoy!
After too many weeks during which writing had felt like a lost art to me, writing a 3000-words historical article in one afternoon was a great way to clean the rust off the engines, and show I can still do it, and it’s fun. So while new projects shift and move around, I decided to celebrate my renewed energies, and bought myself an ebook.
One of the best things of the last few years is the increasing number of fantasies being published that break away from the standard European model, roughly Tolkienesque or Howardian, and choose an Eastern setting.
And I will not be the one that complains – first, because as an Orientalist Anonymous, I have always loved Eastern fantasies and have written some myself (and I hope to write more), but also, variety is always a sign of good health – and if the field is in good health, we have all reason to be happy.
Yesterday was a long day – I had to go into town to see the people that do my taxes, and as I was at it, I dropped by the local bookstore, where my friend Roberto had my copy of Fritz Leiber’s massive collection Sword & Sorcery waiting for me. Then I did some shopping (it being market day and all that), and then had lunch with my friends, enjoying the company.
When I got home, I found a request for an urgent article from a magazine I work with – I am taking a break from writing it as I am writing this – and then I got a weird personal message through Facebook, from a dear friend that lives in the middle of the Atlantic (on an island, of course – I have no contacts in Atlantis). The message was more or less..
My mother saw you died, it’s in the newspapers, and she called me… Are you fine?
“Davide Mana” is not a common name, but is not as unique as I’d love to think – there was another Davide Mana, living here in Piedmont, a man of forty-six, a professional man very active in his community. He died early this week, and the local news covered the fact. And a few people saw the name, and the area, and got worried. My friend’s MP was the first of a series. But no, it’s OK – I’m a little tired and a bit worn around the edges, but I’m fine.
But my thoughts go to the family of that man I never met, but shared a name with. A father of four, much loved in his community, and from what I could read in the news, a good man. And I’m very sad.
This morning, after a somewhat surreal misadventure with the local bus service – about which I’ll post, maybe, another day – I went and dug out my one-volume Italian edition of Troy Denning’s Prism Pentad – the five novels set in the old AD&D setting known as Dark Sun. The thing is like a dictionary, a small-print, bullet-proof hardback that weights two kilograms, and that will make reading in bed a health hazard.
The reason I decided to go back to Dark Sun is somehow connected with a future writing project (remember what I told you? Announce you’ll write your own things, and new gigs pop up like that) , but as I am doing research and taking notes, I thought I might one day set up a game, to have a little fun with my friends.
Writers have all sorts of strange superstitions, rituals and quirks. I like to keep a coin balanced on edge on the desktop while I type: when the coin drops, it’s time to take a break. Silly stuff like that.
But now I might start a new personal superstition – I only have to announce here on the blog that I’ll be working of a fun project just because, that some serious work lands in my mailbox. For instance…
Today I’ve finished the first round of translation on the mystery novella Murder on the Giava, and took the afternoon off to read the new issue of Phantasmagoria, Special Edition, that is all about M.R. James – and as it usually happens when I go back to classic ghost stories, I felt like writing some new ghost stories myself – because that’s where I started with horror, as a reader, with classic ghost stories.
In fact, right now I’ve three ghost stories being considered for publication, but while I am waiting for the publishers to make up their minds, there’s always room for more.
The magazine features an article by James himself about “proper” ghost stories, and that’s certainly an inspiration.
And so, while I wait to start the second round of translation – to catch all the stupid stuff I wrote on the first – I thought I’ll devote December to ghost stories, and then either sell them, or share them with my Patrons or, who knows, put together a collection and self-publish it.
Despite the fact that I co-host a podcast about horror movies, I am not a huge horror fan – a lot of the horror movies I like are old and quite tame by today’s standards. If there is a movie genre I can claim to be a true aficionado of, is certainly noir. And the opportunity of watching an old noir I have so far missed is always a cause for celebration. The British Criterion Collection often helps me celebrate.
So last week I caught Pale Flower, a Japanese noir directed in 1964 by Masahiro Shinoda, and that is probably the bleakest, most nihilistic noir movie I’ve seen in a long time. And it is also beautiful to behold.
Karavansara 