Love Actually Is All Around

I know I haven't updated in a while. I've been busy working on my new blog "Last Leaf" which is where I'm going to chronicle my reading of the 1001 Books to Read Before You Die. I think it's easier than posting them all on this blog. So check that out if you're interested. I've spent almost my entire snow day break writing reviews of the 50 or so books on the list I've previously read.

Anyway, today is Valentine's Day, and it's a good thing I don't actually have a boyfriend because if I did I wouldn't be able to do anything. I've had a cough for about a month or so and over the past week it turned into a raging head cold. I think it's a sinus infection. But that doesn't matter. My feeling crappy shouldn't stop me from taking some time to appreciate all my loved ones: my family that means so much to me, my friends that keep me happy and smiling, and those who aren't really in my life as much that I miss spending time with. I love you all and thank you for everything you've taught me. You have shaped me into who I am today. I don't have anything too profound to say, my head is too congested for that, but I'm leaving you with this video.

The film Love Actually is very near and dear to my heart, and Hugh Grant's beginning dialog offers important words to live by. Valentine's Day isn't about being with a boyfriend or girlfriend or feeling badly for your own lack of said significant other. It's about celebrating the many kinds of love you experience day after day. It's something I think we all take for granted. So today, remember that, even if it may not seem to be true, love actually is all around.

Elementary!

And so my quest to read the 1001 books that a group of distinguished literary scholars propose that I should read before I die continues. I must admit that I find it rather daunting, seeing as if I read one such book every month (taking those which I have already read into account) I will finish the list in exactly seventy-nine and a quarter years. I'm almost twenty and will admit that I cannot rely on my ability to remain on this Earth until I am nearly one hundred years old, let alone be able to remain literate in the decline of my old age. Fortunately, I am more than capable of reading one book per month, no matter how my professors may conspire against me.

I found myself, along with practically half the nation, snowed in this past weekend. While many found it to be a miserable experience, full of shovels and back aches and ruined plans, I cozied up on my couch with my complete Sherlock Holmes collection and some tea, and got to work on this insane goal I've set for myself. Although I own the complete collection of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories, only two of his books were on the list: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and The Hound of the Baskervilles.

I remember trying to read the Sherlock Holmes stories when I was in grade school and giving up. Reading them now, I can't see my ten year old rationale. For Christ's sake I was reading the 1000 page unabridged Les Miserables ! I certainly couldn't have found Conan Doyle's style or language confusing. At any rate, I was glad to be finally reading a body of work that I had missed out on for one reason or another so far in my life.

The language of these stories is not confusing at all, nor are any tricky literary devices employed to baffle the reader. Rather, what makes these stories so utterly enjoyable is a character study of Sherlock Holmes and his roommate Watson. (As an aside, let the reader note that Sherlock Holmes never actually says "Elementary, my dear Watson." He merely exclaims "elementary!" in the midst of conversation). The Adventure of Sherlock Holmes is a collection of short stories detailing thirteen or so cases that the London detective has taken on in his office on Baker Street. The formula for these stories is basic and consistent: Holmes is presented with the facts of the case, Holmes conducts an investigation that is often viewed as irrelevant to Watson, Holmes inexplicably solves the case then proceeds to enlighten both Watson and the reader as to his methods and reasonings. Holmes' powers of perception are fascinating and by the fourth story, I found myself attempting to anticipate the twists of the mysteries' conclusions before I reached the end. I of course was always lacking some vital insight, but that's the point of a good mystery. There would be no point if you could figure everything out. This formula resounded in The Hound of the Baskervilles as well. The novel is basically an extended version of one of the adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

In addition to the wonderful characterization of Holmes, the aloof cocaine addicted detective who confuses everyone (even sometimes himself) with his methods, the character of Watson is equally as intriguing. Despite the taxing effects on his personal and professional life, Watson is compelled time and again to follow after Holmes in his bizarre adventures and chronicle the details of their cases. His narrative voice shows a deep respect and sense of wonder for Holmes' intellect. I find the bantering conversations in which Holmes attempts to coax his friend into thinking about a case with the same chain of deduction amusing, as Watson struggles to overcome his own methods to widen his perspective and fine tune his observational skills. Theirs is a true friendship, focused on bettering each other and themselves while using their combined skills to achieve good for the wider London community.

All in all, Arthur Conan Doyle's stories were excellent reading material and facilitated an enjoyable weekend of being snowed in. I would give both works a resounding A+.

50 down, 951 to go.

"My mind rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work, give me the most abstruse cryptogram, or the most intricate analysis, and I am in my own proper atmosphere. But I abhor the dull routine of existence. I crave for mental exaltation." (Arthur Conan Doyle)