Do you have a friend-of-a-friend that you don't know all that well, but think very highly of? In the Sherlockian world for me, that's Daniel Stashower. Award winning author, man who wowed the BSI dinner last year, and one of my favorite writers. But here's the thing, when I talk about Mr. Stashower to other Sherlockians that know him, they always say something like, "Oh yeah, he's a great guy!" They don't mention his Edgar Award or his Agatha Award. Nothing about the myriad of places he's been published or his ability to bring history to life on the page. People just like to talk about how friendly and nice he is.
So I reached out and asked Dan for an interview. Sure enough, his reply was just as friendly as advertised. And you know what? The guy is funny too! (I'll let you guess which line in this week's interview made my wife ask me why I was giggling.) If you're already friends with Dan Stashower, kick back and enjoy. And if you've only admired him from afar, now's your chance to get to know him a little better with this week's Interesting Interview!
How do you define the word “Sherlockian”?
Broadly. When I was younger, I’d have probably given you a prescription of learned texts, but people seem to be coming in through a lot of different doors these days, and that’s all to the good. One could do worse than to follow the example of Peter Blau, who has been running the Red Circle of Washington, D.C., for roughly 50 years. If you show up and fill out your name tag, you’re in. Here’s me wearing the tag I filled out in 1985.
How did you become a Sherlockian?
My friends are tired of hearing me tell this story, but here goes. My hometown theater, the Cleveland Play House, put on a production of the Gillette play when I was eleven or twelve years old. I auditioned for the role of Billy. I already had a pretty serious case of Baker Street fever at this stage – I’d read the stories and watched re-runs of the Rathbone films – and I came to the audition wearing a deerstalker hat, thinking that this would give me an edge.
It didn’t. I didn’t get the part, so I decided to make my mark on the theater by writing a play. Remember: I was eleven or twelve. The play was called “Sherlock Holmes Versus the Lizard People.” It may not have been strictly canonical. It found Holmes and Watson struggling to fend off an invasion by a formidable army of lizard people, who had the advantage of hovering space ships and laser pistols. I recall only one line of the dialogue: “Look out, Holmes! That lizard has a grenade!” It’s too much to say that it launched my career as a writer – it’s too much to say that anyone even read it – but I came away from the experience more in love with Sherlock Holmes than ever.
What is your profession and does that affect how you enjoy being a Sherlockian?
Hell yes! Being a writer in the Sherlockian community is a pleasure and a privilege. You get to rub elbows with some of the best writers in the business today, and you’re carrying on a tradition that stretches back to the founders. Here I am with two of my favorites – Jan Burke and S.J. Rozan. (That’s me in the middle.)
What is your favorite canonical story?
SCAN. I love everything about this story, and it’s the one that lit the fuse when I was a kid. That first paragraph is the high-water mark of the canon for me. I love every word of it. Believe me, I’m not throwing shade at “the footprints of a gigantic hound” or “the curious incident of the dog in the night-time” – all of the stories throw off sparks. But SCAN rises to the top every time.
Who is a specific Sherlockian that you think others would find interesting?
I regret that today’s younger Sherlockians will never have the opportunity of getting to know Jon Lellenberg, my friend and collaborator on such projects as Arthur Conan Doyle: A Life in Letters and Dangerous Work: Diary of an Arctic Adventure. We spent many hours in various Irish pubs talking of anything and everything — P.G. Wodehouse, Confederate cipher disks, the films of William Powell, the perfect martini olive, the Polyphonic Motets of Lassus — everything. I never got his limits, to coin a phrase. Our sodality – a word he favored – is poorer for his absence.
What subset of Sherlockiana really interests you?
It’s amazing how many Sherlockians also have an interest in magic and magicians. I can’t explain it – and Holmes would remind us that a conjurer gets no credit when once he has explained his trick – but it astonishes me. We have many top hats scattered in among the deerstalkers.
As someone who has written a biography about Arthur Conan Doyle, what's something you wish more Sherlockians knew about the man?
When I wrote Teller of Tales, I wanted to throw some light on Conan Doyle’s belief in spiritualism. As I said in the book, I hoped to examine that aspect of his life with sympathy rather than derision.
How has your role as a historian influenced the way you enjoy the Canon?
There’s a bit in Conan Doyle’s memoir where he talks about his love of history against the backdrop of his early days in Southsea:
“The history of the past carries on into the history of today, the new torpedo-boat flies past the old Victory with the same white ensign flying from each, and the old Elizabethan culverins and sakers can still be seen in the same walk which brings you to the huge artillery of the forts. There is a great glamour there to any one with the historic sense — a sense which I drank in with my mother's milk.”
How great is that? He makes you feel the sweep of history, even as you’re reaching for a dictionary to look up “culverins” and “sakers.”
What book would you recommend to other Sherlockians?
Over the weekend I came across a bound volume of The Strand. I love reading the pieces that run alongside the Holmes stories – it’s a wonderfully eccentric time capsule. So I’ve been reading up on the use of phonographs to train parrots, and “Picture Forgers and Their Methods,” and the correlation between “Inches and Eminence,” illustrated by photos of famous authors arranged shortest to tallest. (Bad luck, Kipling! Sorry, Thomas Hardy! Even in this, Conan Doyle towers above.)
Where do you see Sherlockiana in 5 or 10 years from now?
Bear with me; this is a roundabout answer. I am distantly related to an old-time science fiction editor named Hugo Gernsback, who published Amazing Stories magazine, and for whom the “Hugo” award is named. Each year at the holidays, Gernsback put out a trifling monograph called “Forecast,” in which he predicted future scientific marvels such flying cars and interplanetary travel. In that spirit, I’m calling for a scion on Mars by 2040. Let’s make this happen, people.
