The mystery of Conan Doyle and the penny difference

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's little book of essays about books and reading Through the Magic Door (1907) is a treasure trove of material that has inspired a whole string of articles. 

After taking a last look at these essays, I started working my way through Conan Doyle's autobiographical work Memories and Adventures (1924) in the hope of finding similar material.

I soon found something interesting from the days when he was a third-year student; it reminded me of an amusing, article-inspiring anecdote in the earlier work. 

From Memories and Adventures:

“I used to be allowed twopence for my lunch, that being the price of a mutton pie, but near the pie shop was a second-hand book shop with a barrel full of old books and the legend “Your choice for 2d.” stuck above it. Often the price of my luncheon used to be spent on some sample out of this barrel, and I have within reach of my arm as I write these lines, copies of Gordon’s Tacitus, Temple’s works, Pope’s Homer, Addison’s Spectator and Swift’s works, which all came out of the twopenny box.”

In this previously-quoted extract from Through the Magic Door, Conan Doyle describes how he had to chose between spending his modest daily allowance on his lunch or on a book:

“...my student days, when times were not too affluent. Threepence was my modest allowance for my midday sandwich and glass of beer; but, as luck would have it, my way to the classes led past the most fascinating bookshop in the world. Outside the door of it stood a large tub filled with an ever-changing litter of tattered books, with a card above which announced that any volume therein could be purchased for the identical sum which I carried in my pocket.”

So what happened here?

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle believed that it was possible to communicate with the dead. If I could do that, I would ask him for an explanation!

As I have no way of contacting the great man, I will just have to guess why these two accounts differ in the detail.

Could Conan Doyle have misremembered details of his student days when creating the later work? Perhaps over the years threepence had changed in his mind to tuppence and the sandwich to a pie!

Perhaps he was remembering two different years and two different bookshops, with the threepenny version coming from his earlier years as a student. In connection with the later years, he mentioned that every shilling of his money was needed at home; perhaps he cut down and stopped buying beer.

Where is Sherlock Holmes when you need him!

A very relevant quotation from The Cult of Trump

The final article inspired by Steve Hassan's Freedom of Mind  contains an image of his most recent publication The Cult of Trump (2019).

I had a quick look at this book, but it seems to be more about American politics than it is about cults. At first sight, unlike Steve Hassan's other books it doesn't have much new relevant and quotable material. 

However, I did find something that reminded me some points I made in the article about obedience and the truth, which was written in 2013.

Steve Hassan says this (my bolding):

“...if a belief cannot withstand criticism or research, then it may not be worth holding.

Beliefs should never be held as if they are the truth. The more strongly someone claims to have the truth, the more evidence we need to accept it. Certitude is not evidence of truth. Nor does repetition make it true. If anything, repetition should make you suspicious. Truth always stands up to scrutiny on its merits.”

From my post:

“Believing something to be true does not make it true.”

“Loudly and/or repeatedly insisting that something is true does not make it true.”

Let the listener beware!

The back cover of the book:

A very clever way to build a personal library

After producing the string of articles inspired by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's little book of essays Through The Magic Door, I started reading his autobiographical work Memories and Adventures in the hope of finding more material suitable for highlighting on here. 

I found an amusing little anecdote about someone who devised a clever way to build a book collection:

“...young lady...had a large amount of guile underlying her simplicity. Writing from Warsaw, she stated that she had been bedridden for two years, and that my novels had been her only, etc., etc. So touched was I by this flattering statement that I at once prepared an autographed parcel of them to complete the fair invalid’s collection. By good luck, however, I met a brother author on the same day to whom I recounted the touching incident. With a cynical smile, he drew an identical letter from his pocket. His novels had also been for two years her only, etc., etc. I do not know how many more the lady had written to; but if, as I imagine, her correspondence had extended to several countries, she must have amassed a rather interesting library.“

Although I can't help admiring her ingenuity, I also feel disgusted with the effrontery of this brazen scrounger when I remember that as a student Conan Doyle had often gone without food to buy books for his collection. 

I wonder if she ever got anything out of John Buchan and Rudyard Kipling!  

Conan Doyle with some of his legitimately-acquired books circa 1890:

Fear of the New Year!

Seasonal  sadness has been covered in a few articles; there is a post about depression at Christmas and one about depression at the Autumn Equinox for example.

Now it is time to say something about the malaise that comes upon some people at the time of the New Year. 

Ogden Nash's little poem about the New Year, Good Riddance, But Now What?, suggests that while it is good to see the back of the old year, what is coming may be even worse.

Another of his pessimistic New Year poems asserts that the night of December 31st is by far the worst night of the year.

Although Ogden Nash's poems make the impending New Year seem rather sinister, the humour takes the edge off his proposition that New Year's Eve is not a good time.

There is nothing remotely amusing about the following extract from Stella Gibbons's novel Starlight. It is Christmas Eve and someone isn't very happy:

“Peggy stood in silence, struggling with such a feeling of boredom and despair as seldom assailed even her. She could walk out of here to-morrow morning; nothing need stop her.

What was she doing in this hot room, with these fools, living their half-life?

Oh it was something to do – it passed the time – it made a break. The language of boredom and despair. “

Her employer's son notices her distress and asks her what's wrong:

“... just the feeling there’s another year nearly gone,’ she answered, paling.”

He replies:

“Here, here – you save that up for New Year’s Eve – that’s the time that really gets into its stride.”

People have such terrible feelings on New Year's Eve for many reasons. Some are afraid of what might happen; others are afraid that nothing will happen and the coming year will just be more of the – unsatisfactory – same. They may feel that time is running out.

I have learned recently that there is even a word for this fear of the New Year: neoannophobia! 

Starlight is not a good novel to read at this time of year:

Defence Against the Dark Arts XXXII: Anthony Horowitz’s Diamond Brothers at Christmas

A few books with a Christmas theme have inspired posts in the past. 

I wanted to produce something similar for this year; I remembered that the seventh book in Anthony Horowitz’s Diamond Brothers series is called The Greek Who Stole Christmas so I decided to renew my acquaintance with these very amusing little stories. 

I found enough suitable material for another seasonal article.

Christmas for the Diamond Brothers 
Christmas is not a good time of year for Nick the clever boy detective and his big – and dim - brother Herbert, who prefers to be known as Tim, as they are always very short of money and are often in danger from their enemies.

The action in The Falcon's Malteser, which is the first book in the series, takes place during the holiday season. These words from Nick Diamond set the tone:

“...the grey December sky. The Christmas decorations had gone up in Regent Street – it seemed that they’d been up since July – and the stores were wrapped in tinsel and holly. Somewhere, a Salvation Army band was playing “Away in a Manger.” I felt a funeral march would have been more appropriate.“

Things get worse: Tim and Nick are arrested by the police and held in a freezing cold interrogation room. They are released, only to be rearrested and held overnight in a cell in the police station. 

The police decide to let Nick go; he rises to the occasion with a typical witty remark:

“You can go, laddy,” Snape said. “It’s only big brother we want.”

“How long are you going to keep him for?” I asked. “It’s only five days to Christmas.”

“So?”

“He hasn’t had time to buy my present yet.” 

Two quotations about mediocrity

This post contains a small amount of commentary on two short quotations that highlight a very big topic. 

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle said something in The Valley of Fear that has been very widely quoted:

“Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself; but talent instantly recognizes genius...”

This seems at first sight to be spot on, but it needs to be qualified and expanded.

It is very true that many people can't evaluate or even see people who are far above or ahead of them; it does indeed often take one to know one!

What Conan Doyle doesn't mention however is that some people who are nothing special do know - or sense - talent - or even genius - when they see it, and they may try to discourage, sabotage or even destroy it!

Someone who is only a below-average performer at something or who knows only a little about a subject can often see very clearly that other people are much better at it than they are or know much more about it than they do. They may acknowledge and show respect for this, or they may feel envious, diminshed and resentful.

This is from Robert A. Heinlein's science fiction novel for younger readers Have Space Suit—Will Travel:

“Some people insist that 'mediocre' is better than 'best.' They delight in clipping wings because they themselves can't fly. They despise brains because they have none.”

This too is very true: some people do indeed try to cut others down to size; I have seen and experienced this for myself. The tall poppy syndrome comes to mind here, as do the crabs in the bucket who try to drag down a fellow crab that wants to climb up and escape.

Fear, negativity, envy and spite are often behind such mean-spirited behaviour. Rafael Sabatini's proposition that equality is a by-product of envy is relevant here, and so are these words from Kathleen Raine's autobiography Farewell Happy Fields:

“…winged souls are more often dragged down by the commonplace herd, who, ignorant of the use of wings, clip them and forbid their flight, than the wingless injured by the escape of the winged ones…Who, among the vulgar, heeds the misery of imagination hampered and thwarted?…”

There is more to come about all this.

Diana Wynne Jones's Witch Week

Halloween is the time when many people's thoughts turn to witches.

I suddenly remembered reading Diana Wynne Jones's Witch Week (1982) many years ago; I decided to take another look to see if it contains any article-inspiring content.

This little book for children combines magic-related fantasy with boarding-school life. While there is little to say about the main story and there isn't much material suitable for direct quotation, there are still a few elements that inspire commentary.

The Witch Week of the title, a time of many strange incidents, begins a few days before Halloween, which makes the book very suitable for the occasion. 

The cover on this edition is just right for Halloween:

Keeping the balance

A previous article mentions the importance of balancing depressing books with reading material that lifts the spirits.

Witch Week contains both cruelty and humour; scenes that are very painful to read because they involve humiliation and bullying are balanced by witty dialogue and descriptions of amusing incidents.

The power of hate again
Witch Week provides supporting evidence for the proposition that hatred can sometimes be helpful. 

Charles Morgan is a loner and odd one out among the pupils. He lists in his journal everything that he hates, which includes the school buildings and at one point all the people in the school!

This hatred helps to keep him going.