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It was interesting to see how things have changed - in many places for the better. Center City towards the Ben Franklin Parkway was a dirty grimy place at the turn of the century. The Parkway was a stroke of genius. The Art Museum used to be a water holding area.
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Everything he writes is very true historically and that makes the book even more enjoyable. His sense of humor and the story made me feel almost being there with Sir Nigel. The story itself is simple but full of surprises. If you are a kid or if you are one of those grown up kids like me you will love this book.
Or maybe you're a science-fiction or fantasy nut. The books you love best are those in which a very imaginative author conjures up a remarkable, detailed, complex world, puts human-type characters in it, and sets them in motion, reacting to the forces around them. You'd crawl through mud to find a book like this.
So why oh why oh why don't you give this neglected masterpiece, this Sir Nigel--and with Doyle as the author--the acclaim it so richly deserves? No, it's not fantasy or science-fiction, but it begins in England in 1348, and can you possibly imagine a time and place more foreign than that?
To briefly summarize, the story is about a young squire, Sir Nigel, and his quest to perform noble deeds so that he can win the hand of his love, who waits patiently for him to complete them. If you want nothing more than adventure, this book has it. He begins by rescuing a damsel from a scoundrel who would besmirch her honor; there is a small then a large sea battle against the Spanish; there is a journey to a cruel, pirate-infested island, and the revenge exacted on its leader; there are jousts, one on one and thirty on thirty; and in final there is a large, desperate battle between huge armies of French and English where much glory and blood is to be found. Large and small, adventures abound, and I haven't even mentioned half of them. And nothing here stretches credibility. Yes, Nigel is a hero, but he suffers setbacks also--some really embarrassing--and in fact misses most of a set-piece battle he was looking forward to when he almost gets his brains bashed in at the beginning of it.
Like all of Doyle's creations, this novel is rich in small details also. For example, forks hadn't been invented yet. It was considered good manners to hold your meat with your thumb and middle finger while cutting it; to do otherwise was bad form. When you're done with the meat, you toss the bone behind you for the dogs. Once a week, the whole mess was swept out and more hay is laid on the floor. He shows a great knowledge of weaponry as well, talking about the relative merits of the bow and the arbalest, the heavy stones heaved by mangonels, and of course the use of swords and shields and lance. These are just a couple of examples. Practically every page reveals insights as to the way of life in those times, not the least of which is the portrayal of the chivalraic code by which they all lived.
Lastly, it is beautifully written, almost lyrical. Nigel comes upon the fair Edith, "whose face had come so often betwixt him and his sleep." Is there a more economical or descriptive way to put this? And later, marching in war-torn Brittany: "As the darkness deepened there came in wild gusts the howling of wolves from the forest to remind them that they were in a land of war. So busy had men been for many years in hunting one another that the beasts of the chase had grown to a monstrous degree, until [even] the streets of the town were no longer safe . . ." Descriptive? Indeed, chilling.
This is exciting, informative, first-class fiction, and warrants a much larger audience than it has apprarently been getting over the years. Do your part!
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Who can really add to all that has been written over the years about this classic? The reader cannot help but be struck with Doyle's writing style. Its economy is a marvel. It is crisp and crackling, not to mention spellbinding. Even a straightforward introduction is masterly handled. Here, for example, is Watson telling us about the crime scene we are about to enter: "....I will.... describe events which occurred before we arrived on the scene by the light of knowledge which came to us afterwards."
Of course Doyle can establish a new scene with the same economy, but turn up the atmospheric temperature a good deal higher. He begins his retrospective "Scowrers" section in the snowbound Gilmerton Mountains, where a single track railroad leads us through a "long, winding tortuous valley," which is part of the "gloomy land of black crag and tangled forest."
This book is really two books woven together by the mysterious history of the central crime victim. The first is set in England, the second in the United States. Keep a sharp ear out for Doyle's deft handling of the King's English and then its transformation into the 19th Century Americanized version. The King's English is all about civility and civilization. In the American tongue, Doyle takes us to the fringes of civilization, to a Western mining town, where cruelty -- not civility -- is the order of the day.
I suppose one could argue that Holmes' deductive reasoning is the ultimate bulwark against chaos and violence. Perhaps for another Sherlock Holmes book. But I can't help but cite one example of Watson's obvious English sense of what is proper. Holmes' companion/narrator takes a stroll in an old-world garden surrounded by ancient yew trees, where he accidentally overhears the murder victim's wife laughing. Worse, she is laughing with her just murdered husband's faithful male companion. As Watson the narrator puts it, "I bowed with a coldness which showed, I dare say, very plainly the impression which had been produced upon my mind......I greeted the lady with reserve. I had grieved with her grief in the dining room. Now I met her appealing gaze with an unresponsive eye." Good ol' Watson!
May I suggest to the reader that, after this classic, you turn to R.L. Stevenson's, "The Master of Ballantrae"? Stevenson's masterpiece also jumps from the old world to the new, and like "The Valley of Fear" the new world for Stevenson also represents murder and mayhem. Something to ponder from these two great Scottish novelists.