I'd be happy to argue the point, but it seems to me that the four greatest fictional characters of all time (excluding Don Quijote, who's in a league of his own) are : Frankenstein's monster, Dracula, Sherlock Holmes, and Tarzan. There are certainly no other characters who are so familiar, so often revived in plays, movies, song, television, and books, nor so often parodied and imitated as they. Take a look at your TV Guide and there'll be a movie featuring at least one of the four on the air at some point this week. They are all still just as popular as the day their authors introduced them. The reason for this is, first of all that they are simply brilliant creations, but secondly that they each in their own way tap into very powerful human fears and aspirations. Frankenstein's monster and Dracula represent victory over mortality. Tarzan represents victory over Nature. Sherlock Holmes represents the ultimate and inevitable triumph of reason over the mysteries of human behavior.
Of this quartet, it is Holmes, because he is the most realistic character and because his victory seems closest to our grasp, who resonates most deeply with us. Realistically, none of us expect to gain eternal life nor to be plopped down in the jungle unexpectedly, but there's a sense in Holmes that, for all his genius, he is really just using the brain power that all of us share better than the rest of us do. As he tells Watson here, after one of his those classic moments where the good Doctor is stunned by one of Holmes's analyses :
The world is full of obvious things, which nobody by any chance ever observes.
Nobody that is except the world's greatest detective. But the idea that things are just waiting to be observed, and the simplicity of Holmes observations, serves to foster the illusion that the mysterious will yield to our intellect should we merely apply rigorous reason. For all his foibles and quirks, it is this that makes Sherlock Holmes an aspirational figure.
Holmes and Watson are so familiar to us as to need no further exposition. Suffice it to say that this quintessential novel features many of the elements that made the series immortal : inexplicable doings at stately manor houses, chases across the moors, pea soup fogs, beautiful damsels in distress, and the like. And if the villain is not the equal of Dr. Moriarity (then again, who is ?), surely this tantalizing intoduction to the mystery is as enticing as any ever committed to paper :
"On the night of Sir Charles's death Barrymore the butler who made the
discovery, sent Perkins the groom on horseback to me, and as I was
sitting up late I was able to reach Baskerville Hall within an hour of
the
event. I checked and corroborated all the facts which were mentioned at
the inquest. I followed the footsteps down the yew alley, I saw the spot
at
the moor-gate where he seemed to have waited, I remarked the change in
the shape of the prints after that point, I noted that there were no other
footsteps save those of Barrymore on the soft gravel, and finally I
carefully examined the body, which had not been touched until my
arrival. Sir Charles lay on his face, his arms out, his fingers dug into
the
ground, and his features convulsed with some strong emotion to such an
extent that I could hardly have sworn to his identity. TheFe was certainly
no physical injury of any kind. But one false statement was made by
Barrymore at the inquest. He said that there were no traces upon the
ground round the body. He did not observe any. But I did -- some little
distance off, but fresh and clear."
"Footprints?"
"Footprints. "
"A man's or a woman's?"
Dr. Mortimer looked strangely at us for an instant, and his voice sank
almost to a whisper as he answered:
"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!"
The reader, if he exists, who doesn't yearn to discover the secret of
this gigantic hound may as well give up reading.
(Reviewed:14-Jan-01)
Grade: (A+)
