I’ll be uploading rankings of Sherlock Holmes stories from my new book, Wherever Fact May Lead Me: A Ranking of the Sherlock Holmes Stories, every day till we reach the best story. After that, I’ll share my ranking of the best villains in the Holmes canon. You can find the rankings on my website, and you can buy a copy of the book on Amazon.
Ranking the Sherlock Holmes Stories
The Eighth Tier: Artistic Enervation in an Inconstant Age
As with Agatha Christie’s relationship with Hercule Poirot, the shine of Sherlock Holmes reputedly wore off with his author. On the 1st of July, 1930, Doyle spoke with The Daily Mail about Holmes, and he had this to say of his famous creation: “No, I have done with him. To tell the truth, I am rather tired of hearing myself described as the author of Sherlock Holmes. One would think I had written nothing but detective stories.”
One can empathize. After penning hundreds of thousands of words about the detective, after spending countless hours thinking of plots for him, after giving streams of answers to a thirsty audience about the sleuth’s next exploits, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle may be forgiven if he secretly wondered, at times, whether his life might have been better had he never invented Sherlock at all. The strain of continually creating pretty new problems for Sherlock, coupled with the general public’s insistence on ignoring Doyle’s other works—many of which he put his heart and soul into writing—would likely have fatigued even the hardiest author. These eighth tier stories were hopefully, at least, financially profitable for Conan Doyle, for they seem to want the gains of artistic merit.
56. The Adventure of the Three Gables (October 1926, Case-Book).
Many reviewers find nothing redeeming in The Three Gables, but I disagree. Its premise is strong and arresting. The Three Gables’ premise is that a woman finds herself compromised by letters that she wrote, and she offers to buy the house where those letters are kept—provided that the owner leave everything in the house. When the owner, unnerved by the unusual proviso, declines to sell the house, the woman sends ruffians to forcibly abstract the letters. She is successful in this attempt, and Holmes must correctly interpret the robbery’s significance. I believe that Doyle could have successfully used this plot.
However, The Three Gables is most notable for the unsympathetic and vexing treatment of its characters. Doyle put particular emphasis on creating an unflattering depiction of Steve Dixie, a boxer, and time has seen the portrayal age poorly. And, when not objectional, the dialogue in The Three Gables is stilted and wooden, e.g., “You have the feelings of a gentleman. How quick a woman’s instinct is to find it out. I will treat you as a friend.”
Furthermore, the integration of Doyle’s characters in The Three Gables feels hamfisted and slapdash, and the villain’s confession to the crime is absurd. To elicit The Three Gable’s villain’s confession, Holmes travels to the home of one Isadora Klein, a woman of whom Watson writes, “So roguish and exquisite did she look as she stood before us with a challenging smile that I felt of all Holmes’ criminals this was the one whom he would find it hardest to face.” Though Holmes has not a shred of evidence, and though he’s not even troubled to explain his theory, this supposedly intelligent and willful woman simply confesses—in preposterous, contrived language—the whole of her crime.
If Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had but paused in his writing to reflect, he would have readily seen that most people—and especially any person imbued with such strong qualities as those that Isadora Klein is alleged to possess—would be incapable of such an admission. So, rather than being an arch-criminal, or even another Irene Adler, Isadora Klein earns an undesirable place on the lowest floor of Holmes’ house of villains.
Ineffectual plotting and uncharitable character treatment make The Three Gables along with The Mazarin Stone, The Creeping Man, and The Sussex Vampire the four worst stories in the Holmes canon. Nearly earning a tier unto themselves, these four are perhaps most representative of the lack of originality, the powerless writing, and the disaffected spirit which suffuse so many stories in The Case-Book.
Now, with this eviscerating critique made, I feel that it’s incumbent on me to say that some empathy and sensitivity toward the circumstances which induced Doyle to publish these stories are warranted, for, in my opinion, it is rarely either just or right for the public to read an author’s story (even a bad one), and to condemn it perfunctorily. Even hastily written stories take time to write, and stories which are written to satiate demand ought to be given extra sympathy, since the author may be presumed to be trying, with his or her works, to placate and to satisfy (sometimes out of no more than a sense of obligation, politeness, or goodwill) a ravenous marketplace. In such instances, an author’s intent and situation ought to be taken into account.
