Every Holmes Needs a Watson (and Vice Versa)

Where would Sherlock Holmes be without his Watson? Both names go hand in hand, even though Holmes does most of the work in their cases. In the TV series Sherlock, the Sherlock Holmes films, and, of course, the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle novels, Sherlock Holmes' name is central to the title with no mention of Watson. Yet we all know the phrase, "Elementary, my dear Watson," and that despite his social problems, Holmes found himself a steadfast friend in Doctor John Watson.

Somewhere in the murky place that is Tumblr, someone reported the story of their ten-year-old sister theorizing that each person is either a Holmes or a Watson, but they need each other to balance out. I can't find the original post at the moment, but this small child explained how each of us has small quirks either mostly like Holmes or Watson. Her point was that eventually, every Holmes will find his Watson and every Watson will find his Holmes because they need each other. Holmes needs someone who will run around with him, go on adventures, be comfortable with a little danger, understand his moods - knowing when to let him sulk and when to push him to get out of 221B. Watson needs the excitement Holmes provides for him and the friendship Holmes has blessed so few with. Both men care for each other so strongly that theirs is one of the most famous friendships (or in the opinion of many, romances) in literary history.

Holmes is obviously crucial to the novel itself because he has the brain capacity to solve the crime. He has all the facts inside that funny little brain of his, allowing him to use either the brain-attic or mind palace to move information around until he can make sense of it. But he needs Watson to keep him in check in social situations - to tell him when he's said something "not good" or to gain information from a witness. The reader also needs Watson because we need some sort of filter between the abstract and terrifying Sherlock's mind must be. Watson is the perfect candidate to serve as the average, yet still intelligent enough to follow Holmes, man to serve as the medium between Holmes and the reader.

Other detective novels try to use this dynamic, but it isn't always the same. Watson asks the same questions as us, the reader. We are on his level. But in the television show, Poirot, based on Agatha Christie's detective of the same name, features the character Arthur Hastings, who only appears in eight of Christie's Poirot stories. Hastings is extraordinarily similar to Watson, but Hastings is also extremely stupid. His questions are unintelligent, annoying, and a waste of time (as is his character). In Edgar Allan Poe's detective stories about C. Auguste Dupin, the story is told in first-person narration by a nameless friend of Dupin. The friend has little personality and really only serves as the most basic of Watsons.

Few have been able to create a "sidekick" character who equals or surpasses Watson, who constantly proves to the reader exactly why we and Sherlock need him. We see this even more clearly in the BBC series, where Watson has no patience for Sherlock's antics and is willing to punch him when necessary (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjv4hKwEucg). The Sherlock Holmes stories would be painful to read without Watson, but also very boring without Holmes. Both men have created an important relationship in the fictional apartment of 221B Baker Street that continues to intrigue fans to this day.

The 2 sides of Mr.Trotter

          I wanted to talk a little about Mr. Trotter in “The mousetrap”. After I read the whole story, Mr. Trotter gave me an unforgettable impression. I could have never guessed he was the killer. He showed incredible kills of adaptation. He might even be a little bipolar, changing attitudes from 1 second to the other. He appears as a respectful gentleman, but really, deep in his heart is the instinct to kill.

          First things first, he disguised himself as the detective. This shows he's smart and clever. He could think up ways to make himself look less guilty, or appear normal in the eyes of the other characters. He took the whole thing very seriously, showing that he cares about what was going on. He also said near the end of the story:" This is not a game!", this shows he wanted everyone to take the situation seriously. Making each and everyone one of the people in the room, to play out his fantasy. He appears as a gentleman, he's respectful, well dressed, very formal. He stays this way throughout most of the story. This is what tricked everyone into believing his lies. He also lures the people into letting their guard down, by using the excuse of being a detective. Of course, if your a detective investigating a murder, you're probably the last person to be convicted of being the murder. All these things shows how intelligent Mr. Trotter really is. He plans ahead, makes up a ruse, and acts it out perfectly. All these things ties perfectly together, he almost got away with it. If he hadn't broke down in the end. Mr. Trotter is a highly intelligent criminal, who murders out of rage and revenge. He will stop at nothing to kill the people he has targeted.

           Now that I have talked about the good, or at least,  positive side of Mr. Trotter. Lets talk about his negative side. He is a very strange person, he often changes between personalities. Even the littlest things can set him off. When he does get mad, it is hard for him to control himself. He is no longer behaves in a formal manner, he "loses" his gentleman like qualities, and just becomes this whole different person. I think that's one of the clues that gave away Mr. Trotter is the killer. Criminals or murders tend to have anger management issues, or duo personalities. They can't control themselves in certain times. You could say Mr. Trotter is a combination of psychopath and sociopath.

            What really scares me about this character, is his ability to change between 2 personalities in a matter of a second. One minute you might be having a very sophisticated conversation, while the next minute he's holding up a knife, ready to murder you. He is a great suit to this story, his actions and qualities are one of the main reasons, I think, that mislead us away from guessing he's the real killer. And that's why, I think, this story is so successful. Every character has its own unique characteristic, that will keep you guessing till the end. But I definitely think Mr. Trotter is the most intriguing and odd character in the book.  

The Hound of the Baskervilles: A Detective Novel Without a Detective?

         For my second and final blog post, I thought it would be interesting to talk about The Hound of the Baskervilles and the unique way that Conan Doyle wrote the novel.  In most detective novels or stories that I have read, the detective is a very prominent part of the story and is alongside the sidekick for most, if not all, of the novel.  Therefore, I was surprised when on page 39 of The Hound of the Baskervilles, Sherlock Holmes says goodbye to Watson and is not heard from for the next 50 pages (which is a rather large chunk of the novel).  Yes, I know that Sherlock is still technically lingering in the background during this time, gathering intel while relaxing in a stone hut as only he would do, but it was still rather puzzling to me.  Why write a detective novel where the detective is not present for almost half of it?

I suppose it is possible that Conan Doyle wanted to give the reader a sort of free reign to unravel the mystery on his or her own, since the gap between the average reader’s intelligence and Watson’s intelligence is significantly smaller than the gap between the average reader’s intelligence and Sherlock’s intelligence.  However, a lot of the information needed to piece clues together is not available to the reader until Sherlock reveals it.  The reader knows that Mr. Stapleton is unreasonably angry when Sir Henry professes his love to Mrs. Stapleton, for example, but this detail alone is not enough for the reader to be able to put together that Mr. and Mrs. Stapleton are actually husband and wife opposed to brother and sister.  The information about the convoluted past of “Mr. and Mrs. Stapleton” that leads to the discovery that the two are husband and wife is not revealed until Sherlock tells Watson about the research he did on Mr. Stapleton’s background as a schoolteacher.  It almost felt to me as though Conan Doyle just wanted to increase the length of the story by having the reader follow Watson, because he knew that Watson would put together clues slower than Sherlock would. While some of the clues that Watson discovered were interesting to me, I found myself getting a little bit bored by the sluggish pace of the middle part of the novel.  

While I holistically enjoyed The Hound of the Baskervilles, it irritates me that Conan Doyle chose to have Sherlock Holmes’ character be absent for a chunk of the novel.  I feel like one of the most enjoyable parts of the world that Conan Doyle creates with Sherlock Holmes is the banter between Holmes and Watson.  Therefore, when only Watson is present in the middle of the book it seems dry and like there are numerous missed opportunities for additional humor and excitement.  Moreover, Watson is just not as interesting of a character as Sherlock in my opinion, and therefore the book begins to drag when Sherlock is absent. Maybe I would have been less irritated by Conan Doyle’s choice if Sherlock was not waiting in the wings the whole time and Watson truly figured out the crime by himself.  However, Sherlock was still the one who pieced all of the clues together and figured out the crime, while only using a few of the details that Watson reported to him.  Hence, for a sizable part of the novel I felt like I was reading a detective novel without what I consider to be a true detective.  While I understand that Conan Doyle claims that Stapleton may have been suspicious and overly cautious if Sherlock was present, to me Sherlock being absent from the story felt like a literary mechanism that was merely used to lengthen the story.

The Murders in the Rue Morgue: A Screenplay

by Jenny, Ali, Catherine, and Emma

Sidekicks, which are characters who accompany detectives, most often exist with the primary purpose of allowing the reader to experience the process of solving a mystery vicariously. These characters are fundamental to the adaptations of any detective story because if the reader or audience member were able to follow the thought process of a detective without an explanation offered by the sidekick, then the detective’s character would lose the attractive quality that makes him and the story compelling. One such quality is his unparalleled brilliance. In order to maintain the essence of the narrator’s purpose in our film adaptation, we decided to have a camera follow Dupin from the perspective of an implied, “invisible” person, instead of casting  someone for the role. We found this to be a necessary component of our film in order to uphold Poe’s intention for the existence of a character who asks questions and thus anticipates the reader’s questions. As a result, the purpose of Dupin’s explanations to his sidekick is to drop clues for the reader. By writing the story in the first person perspective, Poe literally makes the narrator’s words become the reader’s: “I replied..,” “I don’t understand..,” “I need you to explain…” Therefore, if the role of the narrator was played by an actor, the feeling of connection to the story and its characters that this style of writing intentionally provides would be lost. The camera we would use in our adaptation, however, would ensure that this connection is maintained; the audience members would experience the story through the eyes of Dupin’s accomplice, in the same way that readers experienced it through his thoughts. Just as Poe’s story mostly lacked any descriptions of the narrator (which would have limited the character to a certain gender, race, background, education, or countless other categories, thus hindering how easily the reader could visualize him or herself in the story), a view of only Dupin and their surroundings from our camera’s perspective would allow each audience member to construct their own image of Dupin’s accomplice, but more importantly, step into the shoes of the accomplice. This camera perspective involves the audience as part of the cast and part of the actual process of solving the murder. Furthermore, instead of adding subplots, we decided to adapt the short story into an equally short film. Any subplots and extraneous romantic relationships are unnecessary because they would not allow the film to remain true to the story, and most importantly, they would definitely detract from the process of solving the mystery. If this were a typical Hollywood movie that adds trivial or excessive characters, subplots, etc., the complex simplicity of a detective fiction novel would be lost. Poe mentions this complex simplicity: “This is an ordinary, although an atrocious instance of crime… the mystery has been considered easy, when, for this reason, it should have been considered difficult, of solution.” We also used direct citations and tried to paraphrase as little as possible so as to stay true to Poe’s writing style, which is very purposefully specific so as to mislead but also give the reader a chance to solve the mystery before the detective does. Without his particular syntax, wording, and timing of actions, Poe’s locked room mystery may be easier or more difficult for the reader to solve. By adapting the story to the medium of a short film in this way, the intellectualism of the story and the standards of the audience are maintained at the same time. The differences between the film and the story ensure that the intended audience would be willing and prepared to analyze and watch a mentally rigorous and stimulating film. In addition, this short story has already withheld the test of time and has been highly acclaimed despite its lack of subplots, which proves its merit. The following scene is Act I, and the process of discovering and figuring out the mystery, which is unmentioned, is Act II.

A PARK IN PARIS

[Dupin and Narrator are in the middle of a game of chess.  They are sitting at a table. The camera faces Dupin.]

NARRATOR (astounded): This is our third game today. How do you always manage to win?

[With a neutral tone and vacant eyes, Dupin reveals to the narrator, in a lengthy explanation, how he had predicted the narrator’s moves.]

DUPIN (neutral): The game of chess is greatly misunderstood in regards to its effects on mental character. It is the more concentrated rather than the more acute player who conquers. On the contrary, in checkers, the analyst throws himself into the spirit of his opponent and identifies himself therewith. Therefore, different qualities are necessary for different strategies.

NARRATOR: Dupin, this is beyond my comprehension. I do not hesitate to say that I am amazed, and can scarcely credit my senses.

DUPIN: The best chess player in Christendom may be little more than the best player in chess, but proficiency in whist implies capacity for success, and all these more important undertakings where mind struggles with mind. When I say proficiency, I mean that perfection in the game which includes a comprehension of all the sources whence legitimate advantage may be derived. The concentrated chess player will do very well at observing intently and consequentially remembering distinctly. The necessary knowledge is that of what to observe.

NARRATOR (after a few moments of silence): It is already four in the morning. We should return home.

[They stand up and take a silent walk towards their assumed residence, Dupin observant and out of view of the camera. The narrator is deep in thought. The camera shows the front of the sidewalk, as Narrator walks next to Dupin, then points at the cobblestones, and then at the night sky. The camera rises as Narrator straightens up.]

DUPIN: He is a very little fellow, that’s true, and would do better for the Théâtre Variétés.

NARRATOR: There can be no doubt of that… [Narrator suddenly stops in the middle of the street] Dupin, how on earth did you know know what I was thinking?

DUPIN:  You kept your eyes upon the ground --glancing, with a petulant expression, at the holes and ruts in the pavement, (so that I saw you were still thinking of the stones,) until we reached the little alley called Lamartine, which has been paved, by way of experiment, with the overlapping and riveted blocks. Here your countenance brightened up, and, perceiving your lips move, I could not doubt that you murmured the word 'stereotomy,' a term very affectedly applied to this species of pavement. I knew that you could not say to yourself 'stereotomy' without being brought to think of atomies, and thus of the theories of Epicurus; and since, when we discussed this subject not very long ago, I mentioned to you how singularly, yet with how little notice, the vague guesses of that noble Greek had met with confirmation in the late nebular cosmogony, I felt that you could not avoid casting your eyes upward to the great nebula in Orion, and I certainly expected that you would do so. You did look up; and I was now assured that I had correctly followed your steps. But in that bitter tirade upon Chantilly, which appeared in yesterday's 'Musée,' the satirist, making some disgraceful allusions to the cobbler's change of name upon assuming the buskin, quoted a Latin line about which we have often conversed. I mean the line "Perdidit antiquum litera prima sonum."  I had told you that this was in reference to Orion, formerly written Urion; and, from certain pungencies connected with this explanation, I was aware that you could not have forgotten it. It was clear, therefore, that you would not fail to combine the two ideas of Orion and Chantilly. That you did combine them I saw by the character of the smile which passed over your lips. You thought of the poor cobbler's immolation. So far, you had been stooping in your gait; but now I saw you draw yourself up to your full height. I was then sure that you reflected upon the diminutive figure of Chantilly. At this point I interrupted your meditations to remark that as, in fact, he was a very little fellow --that Chantilly --he would do better at the Théâtre des Variétés."

NARRATOR: Your reasoning skills are truly incredible and are better than anything I’ve ever come across. For Heaven’s sake, tell me more.

[The scene ends with the two walking into their house.]

Mental Disorders in The Mousetrap

In this story, it is made known to the reader that the murderer has schizophrenia, something discovered during his military days by the army psychiatrist. When Trotter (the murderer) snaps and draws his revolver on Mollie, he reverts back to a childlike personality. This switch is attributed to his mental disorder.

In fact, Agatha Christie uses mental disorders as plot devices in a few of her works. This could be due to the fact that mental illness was not well understood during the time period she was alive, and is not even understood fully today. Unfortunately, mental illness as the explanation for the twisted actions of a character has become a trope since Christie's lifetime, and it stigmatizes mental illness, and those who suffer from it.

There is also some debate as to the medical accuracy of the disorders depicted in fiction. The murderer in The Mousetrap is said to have schizophrenia, but he suffers from multiple personalities. His symptoms are more inline with dissociative identity disorder, which actually accounts for split personalities. Schizophrenia gives people delusions, hallucinations, disorganized thinking, or symptoms that mimic sociopathy, but it does not give people multiple personalities.

But, if we take Christie at her word and leave the discrepancy in Trotter's symptoms up to factors we don't understand, we need to determine how he developed this disorder. Christie's writing suggests that it was completely environmental; a product of Trotter's traumatic childhood. But schizophrenia is a combination of environmental and genetic factors, so if Trotter was at risk for this disorder, it follows that his siblings would have been too. If that is the case, why didn't Miss Casewell develop schizophrenia or some other mental disorder as well? She endured a significant amount of trauma, just like her brothers. Of course, the events of their childhood would have affected them both differently, but it is clear that these events still haunt Miss Casewell, even though she is mentally sound.

Ultimately, it seems that giving Trotter a mental illness was simply convenient for Christie. By designating Trotter an 'other', separate from the norm, she saves the reader from discomfort because they can't identify with the murderer. She also saves them from difficult questions of human nature.

Why The Mousetrap has Remained a Success

As I was reading The Mousetrap yesterday, I was surprised by how engrossed I became in the story.  I felt an urge to quickly flip the pages and discover who was at the core of the mystery that was unravelling before my eyes in a way that I had not while reading Mademoiselle de Scudery or even Murders in the Rue Morgue.  This led me to think about why exactlyThe Mousetrap intrigued me and why it has continued to intrigue people for over 60 years.  Was it the plot, the writing style, the characters?  After pondering the subject, I came to the conclusion that the story has been such a success due to the fact that one feels as though they are a part of a challenging game that they are able to win while reading or watching the play.

As we discussed in class today, one of the characteristics of the detective novel that evolved during The Golden Age was that the novel was supposed to be formulated into a sort of game.  The reader was supposed to be given the chance to figure out whom the murderer was along with why he or she committed the crime.  In my opinion, Agatha Christie perfected this approach in The Mousetrap.  Unlike in some detective novels, where only a few of the numerous characters are truly focused on or characterized well, Christie pays equal attention to each on of the people that are trapped in Monkswell Manor.  This more intimate approach allows the reader to feel as though he or she has enough information to accurately predict whom the murderer is, and as though he or she is an active participant in the game that Christie creates.  Additionally, Christie utilizes red herrings extremely well, which causes the reader to question each and every individual and once again keeps the reader invested in the story.  In one scene, the reader may think that Christopher is the murderer, while in the next a clue may arise that causes the reader to think that Paravicini is the murderer. Therefore, an exciting game of ‘whodunnit’ is created.  Finally, the fact that the murderer is someone that numerous people would not necessarily expect adds to the overall satisfaction felt upon reading or watching the play and provides a worthwhile conclusion to the “game”.  Even though the reader may have technically “lost” , he or she still feels happy because they were properly challenged and entertained.  No one likes a mystery that is too easily solved after all.

Essentially, The Mousetrap felt like a game of Clue to me to some extent, where I was competing with the characters in the story to try to guess who committed the murder and how.  I wasn’t once bored while reading the play, and while this may also be a byproduct of the succinct writing style, I believe it was more so due to the way the plot allows the reader to feel as though they have an active role in the story.  It’s because of this, that I wouldn’t be surprised if The Mousetrap is still playing at St. Martin’s Theatre in another 60 years from now.

"The Mouse Trap" and "And Then There Were None": Similar?

Due to the excessive amount I've talked about it and advocated that each and every one of my classmates reads it, it's fairly obvious that Agatha Christie's "And Then There Were None" is my favorite mystery novel as well as one of my all time favorite books. One of the primary characteristics of this novel that I found so engrossing was that ten strangers gather on an island, and when the killings begin, all of them are trapped due to foul weather and no one can escape their eventual fate of death. After completing this novel, I continued to explore Christie's works in hopes of finding an additional story that contained a similar element of suspense. This search, however, was unyielding to my desires, until I began "The Mousetrap" this afternoon. I began to lose myself in the play within the first 20 pages, an unusual occurence for me. It was around this point that I realized how strikingly similar "The Mouse Trap" and "And then There Were None" are in the aspects of utilizing extreme weather conditions, incorporating nursery rhymes, and motives of the murders.

The initial notion I came across that vaguely reminded me of Christie's famous novel was the reoccurring emphasis on the threatening snowstorm that was likely to prevent any commuting for the characters whatsoever. Similarly, the novel was set on Soldire Island, which is only accessible by boat. Just as the murders begin and the terror is unraveled, a powerful storm obstructs any possibility of a boat landing safely on the island and rescuing the captives. 

Another significant aspect of "And then There Were None" was the nursery rhyme introduced early in the play, "Ten Little Soldire Boys", which ultimately dictated the murders of the characters. In "The Mouse Trap", two poems were mentioned: 

"The Three Blind Mice" and "The North Wind Doth Blow". The former of the two is used as a basis for the number of murders committed as well as the anthem of the murderer, thus developing the play's eerie mood.

Lastly, the motive of the murderers in both the play and the book are quite resembling; the reason for committing the crime being to avenge the death of a person whom the victim caused or allowed. Both murderers view their actions as a way of delivering justice for those who have escaped punishment for their wrongdoings. The issue of the justification of these murders is then subliminally raised, and the reader is then able to pick a side on the ethical validity of the fates of the victims. 

Although the stories had their similarities, they did differ in a few important ways. In "And Then There were None", the murderer succeeds in his master plan and is never caught or thwarted. "The Mouse Trap", however, concludes with the murderer being disrupted and subdued  before he can complete his final killing. However, the overall introduction, many of the themes, the motives of the murders,  as well as just simply the overall structure of the play can be paralleled with Christie's novel. But these similarities did not take away from my enjoyment of the play, as I felt like I was reading another version of a book I so dearly adore.