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OK!
Earlier this year, I read David Gerrold's "The Case of the Green Carnation," where Holmes and Watson delicately attempt to help poor Oscar Wilde out. I gave the book a high-star review, 4 or 5, and thought at the time that I honestly couldn't expect better. But Mary Pagones blew old Dave out of the water.
"A Study in Scarlet Marquis" is rigorously researched, packed with witty whipcrack dialogue, and is laced with a tragic tenderness all throughout -- Oscar Wilde's suicidal decision to go to trial is treated with heartbreaking sympathy; Holmes' and Watson's relationship with Francis Douglas makes me ACHE; and ofc the barely-spoken love between Holmes and Watson is the whole book's underlying emotional thread. Besides that, the prose is totally electric and all the descriptions just pop off the page.
About Oscar Wilde: I've always been fond of him. The first time I read him was when I found a Dover Thrift Edition of Dorian Gray in this Christian bookshop as a kid -- instantly it became my favorite book. I didn't even understand half of what was going on in the narrative but I adored it. Since reading "De Profundis," I've become a bit sensitive to portrayals of Wilde as a ridiculous, pretentious fop -- there's an element of this at play in David Gerrold's work. Holmes and Watson are the steady, respectable, totally discreet homosexuals; Wilde is the faintly disgusting poseur who comes across as reckless, whiny.
But that's not the case with Mary Pagones. Oscar Wilde is portrayed sensitively, affectionately -- aging, and terrifying aware of his age, his impending ugliness, his blackened teeth; hitched to a beautiful, coarse creature who can't hope to match him intellectually and treats him with profound cruelty and hints of true-to-life abuse. His devotion to Alfred seems self-aware, resigned, and suicidal. Watson and Holmes watch him go down with a sympathy and sadness -- and deep affection -- that infects the reader. And although Watson and Holmes are much better at disguising their homosexuality, the author makes it clear that they're no better than Oscar for that, and their efforts and fears do nothing to really protect them in the end.
OK, that's my general review XD Now here's a general overview of the plot:
It started with Watson and Holmes on vacation in the English countryside, where they hear of a deadly accident at a nearby hunting party. They arrive to examine the body, a young man (and real-life historical figure) named Francis Douglas, who has clearly committed suicide. Francis' companions refuse to believe it and Watson and Holmes agree that it would be unkind to force them to admit it. They allow the coroner to mark Francis' death down as an accident.
During this scene, it becomes clear that Watson and Holmes have met Francis before and are deeply saddened by his death.
In the next chapter, the narrative jumps back a few years, to the first time Holmes and Watson met Francis -- then a nervous wreck with his nails bitten brutally short. Francis is working as a personal secretary to Archibald Primrose, the 5th Earl of Rosebery and future Prime Minister. At first Holmes and Watson think Francis must be here because of Rosebery, but no -- it's about Francis' beautiful younger brother, Lord Alfred Douglas. Alfred, nicknamed Bosie, is dating Oscar Wilde, and has recently gotten "poor Oscar" into some trouble.
Basically, when Oscar wrote a lavishly affectionate letter to Bosie, Bosie slipped the letter into his coat pocket. Later that same night, Bosie hired a young male prostitute (there are rumors he never actually slept with Wilde, considering him too old and fat), and lent the boy his coat. The boy found the incriminating letter in the pocket, stole it, and is now using it to blackmail Wilde for the outrageous sum of 60 pounds, which is far outside Wilde's budget -- despite his posturing as an extravagant gentleman, he's viciously broke, and spends all his money appeasing Bosie's aristocratic tastes.
Francis is worried out of his mind. His father, the Marquess of Queensbury, is totally insane and abusive to both boys -- even Francis, his favorite. If this evidence gets out that Bosie and Oscar are really in a relationship, the Marquess might do something drastic. Holmes and Watson agree to visit Wilde, where Holmes gently suggests that Wilde just publish the letter himself and call it a prose sonnet.
The problem seems solved, but Bosie continues to be reckless, and the Marquess' feverish desire to ruin his own sons only grows. Soon it spreads to Francis as well -- because Rosebery has a habit of picking up handsome young male secretaries and then firing them when they get married. Francis admits to Holmes that he and Rosebery are indeed together, and he doesn't know what to do. It's an impossible situation. His father is determined to prove Rosebery is sodomizing his son -- and that Wilde is sodomizing the other. The Marquess doesn't care that in doing so, he'll ruin the reputation of both Douglas boys. In fact, that might be exactly what the Marquess wants; he seems to deliberately sabotage both sons no matter what steps they take in life. He punishes Alfred for being idle the same way he punishes Francis for taking a job.
While Holmes and Watson try to save Wilde from one Douglas boy and the other Douglas boy from himself, they also quietly deal with their own problems -- cruel bickering where a moody Holmes insults Watson's writing, hitting on a sore spot; Holmes' addiction to cocaine; Mycroft's increasingly frequent visits and his warnings that they need to live separately, try to be less conspicuous, and even the ramifications of Watson's stories and their various fabrications. Most notably, in this story, Watson made up the Reichenbach Falls; yes, Holmes really did leave him there, and no, Holmes didn't tell him why, but there was no Professor Moriarty, no dramatic fall to the death. Holmes simply left. Officially, in Watson's stories, Holmes is still dead, and they're living off royalties from Holmes' research papers and paltry detective fees. But everyone in London knows Holmes is alive because they can see him and Watson walking down the street daily, arm in arm. The question is, when will Holmes let Watson resurrect him? And the tension lies in Watson's writing, Holmes' discomfort with how they're portrayed, both of their unease with the lies about Watson's marriage and their relationship.
There's an excellent scene about midway through the book where Watson visits a doctor. At first we think he's going there to get his leg checked up; ever since Chapter 1, the author's been mentioning Watson's war wound and its stiffness, deliberately setting us up for this moment imo. But Watson is really there to talk about Holmes. He discusses Holmes' mood swings -- dark depressive phases that last for days, where he can get really cruel; wild upswings where he doesn't sleep for an entire week. Work helps keep him steady; cocaine makes the mood swings worse.
For a little while, Watson and the doctor politely discuss how cocaine negatively impacts someone like Holmes, and then the doctor takes a hard swerve: his prescription is for Holmes and Watson to leave England entirely. Go to France, where the social climate is kinder. Live openly and happily. Watson's cheeks burn but he goes numb and quietly says that they can't do that; Holmes loves London more than he loves any man.
Ouch!!
Eventually, the narrative takes us back to Francis' suicide, which hurts DEEPLY now, because we've seen how he met Holmes and Watson, watched their friendship develop, grew to genuinely like this kid -- a closeted gay kid, the responsible older son, doomed to constantly cover for and protect his flamboyantly open younger brother. When Francis is rejected by Rosebery and forced to marry a woman, he kills himself, and that night, we see Holmes and Watson processing the suicide in a lovely, subtle, achingly sad scene in their hotel.
Anyway, here's my highlights -- a mix of shippy Holmes/Watson moments and examples of the snappy dialogue.
*****
( Quotes )
I have many other highlights, but I'll stop there. This is probably the most affecting scene in the novel for me -- this, and the very end, where Holmes and Watson attend the auction of Oscar Wilde's personal possessions. Holmes, a bit of a hoarder himself, is deeply affected by the callous auctioning of Oscar's beloved books (as was I, when I first learned about it). But the only item he himself bids on is Oscar Wilde's writing desk, as a gift to Watson.
The scene above, right after Francis Douglas' death, is another favorite of mine -- the subtlety of Holmes's tears is what makes it for me.
Earlier this year, I read David Gerrold's "The Case of the Green Carnation," where Holmes and Watson delicately attempt to help poor Oscar Wilde out. I gave the book a high-star review, 4 or 5, and thought at the time that I honestly couldn't expect better. But Mary Pagones blew old Dave out of the water.
"A Study in Scarlet Marquis" is rigorously researched, packed with witty whipcrack dialogue, and is laced with a tragic tenderness all throughout -- Oscar Wilde's suicidal decision to go to trial is treated with heartbreaking sympathy; Holmes' and Watson's relationship with Francis Douglas makes me ACHE; and ofc the barely-spoken love between Holmes and Watson is the whole book's underlying emotional thread. Besides that, the prose is totally electric and all the descriptions just pop off the page.
About Oscar Wilde: I've always been fond of him. The first time I read him was when I found a Dover Thrift Edition of Dorian Gray in this Christian bookshop as a kid -- instantly it became my favorite book. I didn't even understand half of what was going on in the narrative but I adored it. Since reading "De Profundis," I've become a bit sensitive to portrayals of Wilde as a ridiculous, pretentious fop -- there's an element of this at play in David Gerrold's work. Holmes and Watson are the steady, respectable, totally discreet homosexuals; Wilde is the faintly disgusting poseur who comes across as reckless, whiny.
But that's not the case with Mary Pagones. Oscar Wilde is portrayed sensitively, affectionately -- aging, and terrifying aware of his age, his impending ugliness, his blackened teeth; hitched to a beautiful, coarse creature who can't hope to match him intellectually and treats him with profound cruelty and hints of true-to-life abuse. His devotion to Alfred seems self-aware, resigned, and suicidal. Watson and Holmes watch him go down with a sympathy and sadness -- and deep affection -- that infects the reader. And although Watson and Holmes are much better at disguising their homosexuality, the author makes it clear that they're no better than Oscar for that, and their efforts and fears do nothing to really protect them in the end.
OK, that's my general review XD Now here's a general overview of the plot:
It started with Watson and Holmes on vacation in the English countryside, where they hear of a deadly accident at a nearby hunting party. They arrive to examine the body, a young man (and real-life historical figure) named Francis Douglas, who has clearly committed suicide. Francis' companions refuse to believe it and Watson and Holmes agree that it would be unkind to force them to admit it. They allow the coroner to mark Francis' death down as an accident.
During this scene, it becomes clear that Watson and Holmes have met Francis before and are deeply saddened by his death.
In the next chapter, the narrative jumps back a few years, to the first time Holmes and Watson met Francis -- then a nervous wreck with his nails bitten brutally short. Francis is working as a personal secretary to Archibald Primrose, the 5th Earl of Rosebery and future Prime Minister. At first Holmes and Watson think Francis must be here because of Rosebery, but no -- it's about Francis' beautiful younger brother, Lord Alfred Douglas. Alfred, nicknamed Bosie, is dating Oscar Wilde, and has recently gotten "poor Oscar" into some trouble.
Basically, when Oscar wrote a lavishly affectionate letter to Bosie, Bosie slipped the letter into his coat pocket. Later that same night, Bosie hired a young male prostitute (there are rumors he never actually slept with Wilde, considering him too old and fat), and lent the boy his coat. The boy found the incriminating letter in the pocket, stole it, and is now using it to blackmail Wilde for the outrageous sum of 60 pounds, which is far outside Wilde's budget -- despite his posturing as an extravagant gentleman, he's viciously broke, and spends all his money appeasing Bosie's aristocratic tastes.
Francis is worried out of his mind. His father, the Marquess of Queensbury, is totally insane and abusive to both boys -- even Francis, his favorite. If this evidence gets out that Bosie and Oscar are really in a relationship, the Marquess might do something drastic. Holmes and Watson agree to visit Wilde, where Holmes gently suggests that Wilde just publish the letter himself and call it a prose sonnet.
The problem seems solved, but Bosie continues to be reckless, and the Marquess' feverish desire to ruin his own sons only grows. Soon it spreads to Francis as well -- because Rosebery has a habit of picking up handsome young male secretaries and then firing them when they get married. Francis admits to Holmes that he and Rosebery are indeed together, and he doesn't know what to do. It's an impossible situation. His father is determined to prove Rosebery is sodomizing his son -- and that Wilde is sodomizing the other. The Marquess doesn't care that in doing so, he'll ruin the reputation of both Douglas boys. In fact, that might be exactly what the Marquess wants; he seems to deliberately sabotage both sons no matter what steps they take in life. He punishes Alfred for being idle the same way he punishes Francis for taking a job.
While Holmes and Watson try to save Wilde from one Douglas boy and the other Douglas boy from himself, they also quietly deal with their own problems -- cruel bickering where a moody Holmes insults Watson's writing, hitting on a sore spot; Holmes' addiction to cocaine; Mycroft's increasingly frequent visits and his warnings that they need to live separately, try to be less conspicuous, and even the ramifications of Watson's stories and their various fabrications. Most notably, in this story, Watson made up the Reichenbach Falls; yes, Holmes really did leave him there, and no, Holmes didn't tell him why, but there was no Professor Moriarty, no dramatic fall to the death. Holmes simply left. Officially, in Watson's stories, Holmes is still dead, and they're living off royalties from Holmes' research papers and paltry detective fees. But everyone in London knows Holmes is alive because they can see him and Watson walking down the street daily, arm in arm. The question is, when will Holmes let Watson resurrect him? And the tension lies in Watson's writing, Holmes' discomfort with how they're portrayed, both of their unease with the lies about Watson's marriage and their relationship.
There's an excellent scene about midway through the book where Watson visits a doctor. At first we think he's going there to get his leg checked up; ever since Chapter 1, the author's been mentioning Watson's war wound and its stiffness, deliberately setting us up for this moment imo. But Watson is really there to talk about Holmes. He discusses Holmes' mood swings -- dark depressive phases that last for days, where he can get really cruel; wild upswings where he doesn't sleep for an entire week. Work helps keep him steady; cocaine makes the mood swings worse.
For a little while, Watson and the doctor politely discuss how cocaine negatively impacts someone like Holmes, and then the doctor takes a hard swerve: his prescription is for Holmes and Watson to leave England entirely. Go to France, where the social climate is kinder. Live openly and happily. Watson's cheeks burn but he goes numb and quietly says that they can't do that; Holmes loves London more than he loves any man.
Ouch!!
Eventually, the narrative takes us back to Francis' suicide, which hurts DEEPLY now, because we've seen how he met Holmes and Watson, watched their friendship develop, grew to genuinely like this kid -- a closeted gay kid, the responsible older son, doomed to constantly cover for and protect his flamboyantly open younger brother. When Francis is rejected by Rosebery and forced to marry a woman, he kills himself, and that night, we see Holmes and Watson processing the suicide in a lovely, subtle, achingly sad scene in their hotel.
Anyway, here's my highlights -- a mix of shippy Holmes/Watson moments and examples of the snappy dialogue.
*****
( Quotes )
I have many other highlights, but I'll stop there. This is probably the most affecting scene in the novel for me -- this, and the very end, where Holmes and Watson attend the auction of Oscar Wilde's personal possessions. Holmes, a bit of a hoarder himself, is deeply affected by the callous auctioning of Oscar's beloved books (as was I, when I first learned about it). But the only item he himself bids on is Oscar Wilde's writing desk, as a gift to Watson.
The scene above, right after Francis Douglas' death, is another favorite of mine -- the subtlety of Holmes's tears is what makes it for me.
