Roman a Clef Holiday

Turns out that some sociopath has created a corollary to my "Nothing Bad Can Ever Happen To A Writer" thesis.

I've learned that although everything might be story material, not all stories should be made public.

I need to speak obliquely lest the facts I disclose permit identification of the guilty parties. Or the wicked, wicked person who put me up to this blog post.

Let's suppose you have parties X, Y, and Z. X and Y conspire to steal something of supposed value from Z. (In point of fact, the item was completely devoid of value.) After X enjoys possession of this item for some time, Y returns said item to Z.

After this happens, X is distraught about the loss of this worthless item and goes public with expressions of anger against Y and appeals to Z to return it. In the anger and appeals, X by way of comparison makes Gollum seem mildly piqued about the loss of his precious.

This is done in public. In a blog post composed at length by X. It goes on and on seemingly forever.

X thought s/he was saying something about Y and/or Z, but s/he was really disclosing something much more significant about X.

I first coined the term "It's all story material" when I was angry at someone close to me and I wrote a spleen-venting rant. I've never published it and I never will.

What I see now is that the spleen-venting rant may be directed against Y or Z, but in the ranting X discloses negative things about himself/herself that perhaps was not quite intended.

About halfway through reading the exhaustive disquisition of X, I began to realize I was witnessing a cautionary tail about TMI. And I started giggling. Upon reading this, I came to believe X was a fool and a sociopath, that Y was evil, and that Z was the wounded party who was no different than a piece of furniture where X was concerned.

Abraham Lincoln said that nobody is truly worthless: at least they can serve as a bad example. If something bad happens to you, it may be story material, and by all means you should feel free to write it up. But before you go public with that story, maybe you should ask someone close to you whether the writing of it shows you to be a fool or a sociopath.

It is not nice to exult in the sadness of others, but there must be some reason why God wired humans with a capacity for shadenfreud. Instead of evoking sympathy, X has inspired thorough contempt in this reader of his/her rant.

X is possessed of a narcissism so strong that it bends light around him/her. S/He is a psychic black hole whose event horizon you want to shy clear of. And that, gentle reader, is why I can't link to the rant so you can see for yourself.

Am I ever going to fictionalize this story? Oh yeah.

Sherly, You're Joking

I recently saw the new Sherlock Holmes movie. And I liked it. But not the way you're thinking. If you want to see a great action movie, by all means take in Game Of Shadows.

But the movie reminds me of a local restaurant called Twisted Rooster. They have on the menu a sandwich they call a Reuben sandwich, and it's a great sandwich with coleslaw and Russian dressing--but it's not a Reuben sandwich.

Game of Shadows is a cool Steampunk 007 movie. I'll buy Sherlock Holmes being an action hero, but he's not a spy--he's a private eye. And I'll buy into Mycroft Holmes being a gubmint official, but he's not a diplomat--he's a mathematician. The shaken-not-stirred character is cool, but not Sherlock Holmes.

It's someone else.

Just as Sherlock Holmes is not a Steampunk 007, Mycroft Holmes is not a Victorian M.

The considerable powers Mr. Fry brings to the role were significantly underused. When he played Jeeves to Hugh Laurie's Wooster, I saw the makings of an excellent Sherlock Holmes. The years and Mr. Fry's expanding waistline has made him into a perfect Mycroft, but he was used largely for comedic effect in this movie. He didn't really do anything significant--just like M does in your typical 007 movie.

I once had the occasion to know several cryptanalysts and cryptologic mathematicians. They manifested the very sort of smarts one would expect of the Holmes brother who went into mathematics. Sure, there's deep involvement in a nation's intelligence community, but it's an armchair sort of thing that you saw in the Tom Clancy stories where a roomful of analysts debate the significance of a radio intercept or a satellite photo--not the parkour-style chasing about that you'll see James Bond do.

I had altogether expect Mycroft to be heading the codebreaking effort against Moriarty's notebook, not Dr. Watson's lovely bride.

Other quibbles. Dr. Watson was mustered out of the military because of a war wound. In the canon he has delicate health, but in this movie he walks with a limp. A limp that goes away when he's dancing, or when he's running. Hmmmm.

Then there's Mycroft's nudism. It has comedic effect, but it's altogether gratuitous--unless you were wondering about Mr. Fry's middle-aged spread. Like wise Sherlock's aversion to horses? Where'd that come from? Arthur Conan Doyle had no problem making Sherlock an expert swordsman and boxer, why would he stint with horsemanship?

Moriarty is some kind of Lord of War (without the cocaine), and he's aiming to start a World War by sabotaging some kind of peace conference that reminds me a lot of a Star Trek episode.

Finally there's Rivendell on the Reichenbach falls. This is Rivendell.:

This is the Reichenbach Falls where Holmes and Moriarty have their final conflict:

 

Notice any difference?

I happened to like the Lord Of The Rings, 007 movies, Star Trek and the Wild Wild West, but I will never confuse them with Sherlock Holmes.