Laurie King: Sherlock Holmes and the Easter Eggs

DEBORAH CROMBIE: I have been a huge fan of Laurie R. King's Mary Russell novels since the publication of the very first in the series, THE BEEKEEPER'S APPRENTICE, so I'm thrilled to be introducing the latest Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes adventure, #18,  THE LANTERN'S DANCE! 

Here, Laurie gives us a behind the scenes look at the choices she made as she was plotting--and I'd love to read every one of these potential stories.

Sherlock Holmes and the Easter Eggs*

Laurie R. King

 

I sometimes wonder if I write as an excuse for research. In part, it’s the travel—when you’re writing a book about Japan or Transylvania or the Riviera, you have to go there, right? Smell the air, taste the food? And in part, it’s being what my daughter calls a recovering academic, a person whose grad school career was diverted into a life of fiction rather than a life of theological minutiae.

But honestly, what’s not to love about diving into the historical background of your characters?

One of those characters is Sherlock Holmes, and after decades of pastiches, film versions, and fan-fiction, you’d think people had discovered or invented absolutely everything about him. And it’s true, in the course of a career battling everyone from Jack the Ripper to Nazis to Martians (yes, I’m afraid so), Holmes has gone everywhere.

Except perhaps his own past.

Yes, says the writer’s brain: let’s go there!

And let’s structure the book with glimpses of the past, so we can shape a story that’s like a zoetrope, with a series of images that comes to life as the wheel spins: The Lantern’s Dance.

But where to start? Well, one of the few things Arthur Conan Doyle tells us about his detective, in a story that introduces Sherlock Holmes’ previously unknown brother, Mycroft (“The Greek Interpreter”) is that their grandmother came from a famous family of artists. As Holmes says to Dr. Watson:

“My ancestors were country squires, who appear to have led much the same life as is natural to their class. But, none the less, my turn that way is in my veins, and may have come with my grandmother, who was the sister of Vernet, the French artist. Art in the blood is liable to take the strangest forms.”

“But how do you know that it is hereditary?” [asks Watson]

“Because my brother Mycroft possesses it in a larger degree than I do.”

Naturally, if I wanted to write a story exploring the personal history of Sherlock Holmes, I needed to know something about the Vernets. And naturally, for a writer like me with a taste for academic research, the waters of the investigation pool quickly grew very deep indeed.

I shall not burden you with the… shall we say, challenge of the Vernet genealogies and family histories, no two of which agreed on dates, relationships, or even the sex of a child. Nor will I tell you my personal feelings about a family that cannot stick to an identity, but drops names, randomly switches around their first and middle names, or even adopts one that they like better. I will merely say that there’s good reason why we didn’t create a family tree for The Lantern’s Dance’s book club guide.

But—let’s start small, and first try to decide which “Vernet, the French artist” Holmes was talking about. That is a fairly simple problem, for if we work back from the birth date of the elder Holmes brother (1854, though some sources say 1847), it would suggest a grandmother’s birth date somewhere between 1785 and 1815. The Vernet artist who matches those dates as a brother would be Horace (1789-1863.)

(Horace, Self Portrait, 1835)

Therefore, if we’re interested in playing with the links between the Holmes family and the Vernets in The Lantern’s Dance, the artist we want to start with is Horace.

The problem is, even this one single Vernet carries with him such a huge wagon-load of fascinating facts and potential story lines that I could have written half a dozen books, each following a different side-track.

Such as Horace Vernet’s childhood traumas. As a three-year-old during the Revolution, little Horace was rushed through a hail of bullets in the Tuileries. Soon after, his aunt was put to the guillotine by a colleague of Horace’s artist father, Carle, by name of Jacques-Louis David. What if, all these years later, Sherlock Holmes were to uncover some secret rivalry between David and the Vernets, that…

No. Too convoluted, too thinly linked with Horace—and in any case, I don’t want to spend large portions of this book buried amidst the horrors of the French Revolution.

But what about Horace Vernet’s time in a later unrest, the 1848 revolution? His paintings were burned, he was forced to retreat to a small apartment in the Institut de France, he conveniently found a change of patrons…

No: pas de révolution!

How about some nice espionage instead? Ah yes, that’s more like it.

Without giving away plot-spoilers, Horace Vernet does indeed enter our story, during his 1839 sketching trip to Egypt and Palestine. His companions include a young man with a daguerreotype camera—only invented that year—and a nephew by the name of Charles Burton. Burton is an Army officer fluent in Arabic, 26 years old, who happens to be free to accompany his famous uncle, providing the skills both to translate and to guard this remarkable new machine capable of recording clear and detailed images of such places as Acre and Cairo. Vernet’s reputation preceeded him, clearing the way for the artist and his companions to move among the important officials and leaders of the area.

(Horace Vernet: Arabs Traveling in the Desert)

Hmm, says the writer’s brain: access plus communication skills plus a plausible reason for poking around equals a superb opportunity for sending back reports and images to the French military.

So what if….?

But along that track, too, lies a plot that is not what I need.

There is another generation of artists already in this book. I need the Vernets for their art, not their opportunities for espionage.

Reluctantly, grudgingly, I scoop up whole pages of a first draft involving 19^th century spycraft (Horace even went to Russia! I could write about the Czar!) and drop them into the “Cuts” file.

Instead, the Egyptian sketching expedition takes on a different role, with Horace’s travels made to serve a rather different purpose in the plot. Don’t worry, espionage remains—I couldn’t resist that temptation—but in a far more covert manner than the original thought.

The spying, the travel, the references to specific Vernet paintings all become Easter Eggs, little spots of colorful treasure that not everyone will see, but which nestle into the story and await discovery. A game, between a writer and her readers.

But still, I am curious. If I were to go back and re-make those decisions that went into The Lantern’s Dance, if I were to pick up one of the discarded possibilities that my research teased me with, which do you think that should be? The French Revolution? Artistic spies in North Africa? Some side task required by Czar Nicholas, perhaps?

Let me know what you’d like in the comments. After all, that’s what short stories are for!

* Easter Egg: a bit of hidden treasure, or an inside joke among game-players.

 

Laurie R. King is the bestselling author of 30 novels and other works, including the Mary Russell-Sherlock Holmes novels. She has won the Agatha, Anthony, Edgar, Lambda, Wolfe, Macavity, Creasey dagger, and Romantic Times Career Achievement awards, has an honorary doctorate, and is a Baker Street Irregular and a Mystery Writers of American Grand Master. She is celebrating thirty years of Russell & Holmes with a series of all-day Beekeeper’s Apprentice events (see her events page) and her new book, out on February 13, is The Lantern’s Dance.

Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes, hoping for a respite in the French countryside, are instead caught up in a case that turns both bewildering and intensely personal.

“Deftly interlacing present and past, King offers further fascinating insights into Holmes’s family while also delivering an intriguing mystery.”—The Washington Post

After their recent adventures in Transylvania, Russell and Holmes look forward to spending time with Holmes’ son, the famous artist Damian Adler, and his family. But when they arrive at Damian’s house, they discover that the Adlers have fled from a mysterious threat.

Holmes rushes after Damian while Russell, slowed down by a recent injury, stays behind to search the empty house. In Damian’s studio, she discovers four crates packed with memorabilia related to Holmes’ granduncle, the artist Horace Vernet. It’s an odd mix of treasures and clutter, including a tarnished silver lamp with a rotating shade: an antique yet sophisticated form of zoetrope, fitted with strips of paper whose images dance with the lantern’s spin.

In the same crate is an old journal written in a nearly impenetrable code. Intrigued, Russell sets about deciphering the intricate cryptograph, slowly realizing that each entry is built around an image—the first of which is a child, bundled into a carriage by an abductor, watching her mother recede from view.

Russell is troubled, then entranced, but each entry she decodes brings more questions. Who is the young Indian woman who created this elaborate puzzle? What does she have to do with Damian, or the Vernets—or the threat hovering over the house?

The secrets of the past appear to be reaching into the present. And it seems increasingly urgent that Russell figure out how the journal and lantern are related to Damian—and possibly to Sherlock Holmes himself.

Could there be things about his own history that even the master detective does not perceive?

DEBS: Horace was quite the dandy, wasn't he? What fun!

And we have more fun for you today--2 GIVEAWAYS!!

#1

Comment here on the BLOG to be entered to win a signed copy of THE LANTERN'S DANCE!!

#2

And comment over on our REDS & READERS Facebook group to be entered to win a copy of ECHOES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES, a fabulous collection of Sherlock-themed short stories edited by Laurie and Leslie Klinger. Hank, Hallie, and I all have stories in this anthology and it is such fun!! 

If you haven't joined our REDS & READERS FB group, here's the link.

You can learn more about Laurie and THE LANTERN'S DANCE here:

Web site: https://laurierking.com

Events: https://laurierking.com/events/

The Lantern’s Dance: https://laurierking.com/books/the-lanterns-dance/

Holiday Gifts for YOU!

JUNGLE RED WRITERS:  Holiday gifts for you!

 One, if you are rushing rushing rushing to do your holiday necessities, wouldn't it be nice to stop for five minutes, make a cup of tea, and read a short story? Yes, indeed. And to make that easier,here are some stories from the Reds!  

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: I had two this year, one in the Sherlock Holmes anthology called "The Adventure of the Dancing Women" (about which Criminal Element said: “A sleuth by the name of Annabelle Holmes works with an ex-soldier nicknamed Watson since, as Holmes charmingly explains, both names go hand in hand… it works with Ms. Ryan’s imaginative, steady hand. If you like Lucy Liu’s performance as Dr. Joan Watson on the TV show Elementary, then you will undoubtedly appreciate this mystery.”) Hurray!

 

And more about the Sherlock anthology from Hallie and Debs below. And another short story—completely different! From Lucy.

But the story I’ll share in full here is from the wonderful anthology called Malice Domestic: Murder Most Conventional. There's a snippet below, and then a link.

And your second holiday gift is at the bottom of this post. And since you love mysteries, I'm giving you one to solve. And, ho ho ho, there are prizes!

THE CLUE IN THE BLUE BOOTH

                by Hank Phillippi Ryan 

I could be sitting right next to you on the subway or standing behind you in the grocery store line or waiting for my latte while you get your tea. You’d never notice me, and that’s exactly how I like it.

My skill—for blending in and being ordinary—is the hallmark of my trade. The reason I get the big bucks. I’m so careful about my identity, I don’t even meet my clients, but simply leave that to “Thomas,” my colleague. That’s not his real name, of course. I call my security company Griffin and Co., even though there’s no one else, except for “Thomas,” in the co. It would be nice to have someone else, but right now we’re the tiniest bit strapped for cash.

The “big bucks” I referred to earlier was the tiniest bit sarcastic. But we’ll be fine, as long as nothing goes wrong.

I made a final adjustment to my black felt cloche as I walked closer to the massive convention center. My unremarkableness, I supposed, was the reason I was assigned to this ridiculous job.

Well, maybe not “ridiculous” so much as “waste of time,” I thought as I pushed through the heavy revolving doors. Nothing would go wrong, and it was my job to make sure that was true. If by some chance something did go wrong, it would be my job to assess, respond, subdue, and resolve. And then instantly, as always, blend back into the woodwork.

Pausing past the bank of revolving doors, I scanned the triple-tall skylighted entryway from left to right and then back again, calculating, knowing the first-response assessment often sets the stage for what’s to come. And then I almost burst out laughing.

There were no men here. And every woman looked exactly like me.

I touched the flowered silk scarf tied around my neck, and the strand of pearls underneath. It’s not usually necessary for me to go undercover to blend into a crowd, because my whole life is undercover. But coming here in costume had seemed prudent, and now, surveying the lobby, the line of registration desks, and the vast convention floor, it turned out my costume was not only prudent, but hilarious. It was like being in a massive hall of mirrors.

Blond wigs—or, on some, I supposed, real blond hair—scarves and pearls and twin-set cashmere sweaters, stockings, and sensible shoes. Plaid skirts. Some women carried magnifying glasses, and some, like me, wore little vintage hats tilted rakishly over one eye. A fluttering canvas banner suspended from the erector-set ceiling announced why we were all dressed that way, and why we were here—not exactly why I’m here, of course, but why the rest of them were here.

NANCY DREW CONVENTION, it trumpeted. They’d included a huge graphic portrayal of the iconic silhouette of the 1930s girl sleuth, all waved hair and cloche hat and pearls and cardigan.

Just like me.

Just like all the attendees, because all were requested to dress as Nancy Drew. Clearly, these women followed directions. The organizers had promised a big-time surprise guest speaker, and as of now, word hadn’t leaked about who that would be. Not even to me, which was somewhat unnerving. I don’t like surprises.

......Want to read the rest? Just click here. And as I said: there's a real clue in this story. If you find it--don't reveal what it is. Just put: "I found it!" in the comments, then message me via my website with the answer.(Http://www.HankPhillippiRyan.com and click on Contact. That comes directly to me!)

Are you savvy enough to discover it? If you are correct, I'll send you a great prize.

But wait—we have more fun reading for you!

HALLIE EPHRON: In a year when I did not publish a book (I have two next year), a proud moment was seeing my short story, “Understudy in Scarlet,” in  Echoes of Sherlock, a wonderful anthology of stories inspired by the Holmes canon, edited by Leslie S. Klinger and Laurie R. King. So thrilling to be in the same anthology with my fellow Reds, Hank and Deborah, not to mention writers like Meg Gardiner, William Kent Krueger, and Catriona McPherson. I floated for days when Kirkus singled out my “Understudy” as “a delight from beginning to end.” 

It’s the story of an actress who starred as Irene Adler 25 years ago in what has become a cult classic version of A Scandal in Bohemia. She answers a casting call, over the moon that she’s going to be able to reprise her role. Needless to say she’s in for a rude awakening that will put her in a murderous temper.

UNDERSTUDY IN SCARLET begins…

    It’s not an open casting call, Angela Cassano realizes as she takes in the emptiness of director Glenn Lancaster’s outer office. The gloomy space, on the second floor over storefronts on Santa Monica in Beverly Hills, has rough stucco walls painted off-white. The furnishings are chrome and ebony and black leather, and the stale air smells faintly of cigar. Her appointment was at two. At three she’s still waiting for Lancaster to emerge from his inner sanctum.

“They want you,” her agent had said when he called, sounding as surprised as she was that a remake of A Scandal in Bohemia was afoot, this time as a major motion picture. Same director, same actor as Sherlock Holmes, and they wanted her to read for the role she played twenty-five years ago: Irene Adler, the one woman who outsmarted the great detective. Was she interested? Of course she was. The only gig she’s got lined up is summer stock in Ojai playing Martha in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? But she’s also more than a bit wary. She and Lancaster didn’t part on the best of terms, not after she refused to sleep with him—something he seemed to think was his due for casting her in his movie. Bygones, she hopes. Because if he were holding a grudge, why would he be calling her agent?

…..Want to read more?  Here’s a link to the book—it’s wonderful! And you should also find Deborah Crombie’s wonderful “The Case of the Speckled Trout”--which introduces Holmes' goddaughter in a hilariously-voiced tale about a fish and a potential murder. What could go wrong?

DEBORAH CROMBIE: I had more fun writing this story! I was in a really stuck place in my novel, and this gave me a much needed break.

THE CASE OF THE SPECKLED TROUT begins...

My name is Sherry Watson. It’s a crap name, Sherry, I know. But what can you do? It’s not like I had a say in the matter. My parents, to give them credit, were trying to do the right thing—a sentimental gesture I wondered if they were sorry for after.

They named me after my godfather, who is—or was, before he vanished a year ago—a famous detective. All I have to say is it’s a good thing I wasn’t a boy, or I would really have something to be pissed off with him about. Actually, he’s responsible for a lot of things I should be pissed off about, my godfather, not the least of which was me standing in a freezing Scottish kitchen, up to my elbows in fish guts.

But wait, there’s more!

LUCY BURDETTE:  My first Key West story, THE ITINERARY, which was published in the MWA anthology edited by Nelson DeMille, is now available as a podcast! If you don't know about Great Jones Street, you should. It's a free app that contains tons of short stories in many genres--what fun!

The Itinerary (by Roberta Isleib) begins like this....

 

         Detective Jack Meigs knew he’d hate Key West the moment he was greeted off the plane by a taxi driver with a parrot on his shoulder. He hadn’t wanted to take a vacation at all, and he certainly hadn’t wanted to come to Florida. But his boss insisted he take time off and then his sister surprised him with a nonrefundable ticket:  He was screwed. The driver packed him into a cab that smelled like a zoo and lurched away from the curb. Then the bird let loose a stream of shit that splattered off his newspapered roost and onto Meigs’s polished black leather loafers. The cabbie hooted with laughter.

“That means good luck, man,” he said, gunning the motor and grinning like an ape in the rear view mirror. “Mango doesn’t do that for just anybody.”

The parrot screamed during the entire ten-minute ride to Meigs’s hotel and the driver never shut up either. Everyone connected with this damn town wanted to give you a travelogue. Hemingway got soused here after writing his obligatory daily pages of FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS; Truman played poker at this table with this or that visiting dignitary; Jimmy Buffet wrote “A Woman Goin’ Crazy on Caroline Street” based on one bad night in his own Margaritaville Bar.

What difference did all that history make when the place was currently overrun with fat, sun-crisped cruise ship escapees, homeless people in search of free booze and the endless summer, and weirdos and misfits of every description? Truly a police officer’s nightmare.

Want more? Here's the website: 

https://www.greatjonesstreet.press/

JUNGLE RED:  Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah and Happy Reading, everyone! And if you have a moment (sure….) tell us what you’re doing today.

And don’t forget to look for the clue in Hank’s story!