"The dead are such good company that one is apt to think too little of the living."

A 'novel' about Arthur C Doyles, ehm John Smith's, musings on politics, philosophy, regligion etc. Overall, meh.

Too rough and unfinished for my taste. Lots of rambling.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's first work (sort of). He orginally wrote it, posted it for the editor but never arrived. Original is more than likely destroyed or lost. ACD was only 23 when he wrote this but there inklings of Sherlock, John and all the things that makes his greatest character. While the novel is rough, unedited, published as is, it does show how ACD brain works and what literary devices he kept.

Stream of consciousness narratives with people breaking it up, much like the Old Testament book of Job, but instead of lamenting about life, John Smith ponders ideas that make life.

No not the greatest work out there and it is not for everyone. It is a quick read and parts of it are really good and do make you stop and think.

"Debería haber una Sociedad para la Prevención de la Crueldad contra los Libros. Odio ver a los pobres pacientes maltratados y desfigurados. Un libro [...] es la esencia concentrada de un hombre. El pobre Horacio Flaco se ha convertido ya en impalpable polvo, pero aquí está su espíritu mismo, atrapado como una mosca en ámbar, en ese volumen de lomo marrón de la esquina."

No estaría en la lista inmediata de libros que recomendaría sin dudarlo, porque después de todo es el manuscrito de un trabajo inconcluso que no tiene ni pies ni cabeza, si apenas una vaga dirección. Conan Doyle narra las disertaciones y divagaciones de un hombre confinado a una semana de encierro por culpa de la gota reumática, con toques autobiográficos en ciertas opiniones y anécdotas y aun así distanciándose de a momentos del protagonista con pinceladas definitivamente ficticias.

"—Puede que [otras personas] parezcan perfectas a los ojos del hombre —dice—, pero puede que estén muy lejos de ser lo mismo a ojos de Dios.
—Si un hombre criticón no puede encontrarles falta —replico—, no tienen mucho que temer de un Creador misericordioso."

Personalmente, me gusta muchísimo cómo narra Conan Doyle, disfruto infinitamente de cómo estructura sus diálogos y la caracterización de sus personajes. Me hace reír y me hace cuestionar temas sobre los cuales, hasta el momento, pensaba que ya tenía una opinión fija. En ocasiones se volvió un desafío leer tanto material desorganizado y sin sentido pero la experiencia general fue genial, como siempre en manos de este autorazo.

Por otro lado, amé la investigación involucrada en la publicación de este manuscrito. Ningún detalle con trasfondo más allá del descrito en el texto es dejado sin explicación, y termina siendo una buena manera de adentrarse en la vida de Conan Doyle sin leer estrictamente una biografía. No tenía idea de cuántas características de sus personajes eran autorreferenciales hasta cierto punto, ni cuántos de los lugares que describió había visitado, y así con otras varias temáticas que tocan tanto el manuscrito como las notas hechas por los editores.

Recomiendo para los seguidores de la obra de Conan Doyle en cualquier grado.

I started this book after reading that it was an unpublished manuscript of the infamous Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but I stayed because I also learned that he wrote/submitted this manuscript when he was 23 years old (a significant age to me at this time). I liked how they kept the words/sentences he crossed out in the original.

A lot of the novel reminded me of some of his earlier works like”The Americans Tale” where the narrator (main character) babbles a lot, like they just talk for extended periods of time about their thoughts and it just spirals. I understand that the premise of the novel is a man with gout thats to remain at home for an extended period of time, so all he really can do is think and contemplate and you, as the reader, are on the journey with him. It got a little difficult to focus since it felt like there was no story, its just the thoughts and opinions of this fifty year old man stuck in his house. I would still give it a read if want to look at the beginnings of ACD novel writing but as a novel/story by itself, without its infamous writer counterpart, it’s a little laking to me. It was very difficult to finish this book, I think I skimmed over so much of it I would barely consider it read.

Reading this gave me the feeling that I was listening to my grandpa talk- except instead of stories of his youth, I got opinions of the man who would later write the Sherlock Holmes stories. It was quite a fascinating read, actually, even though this isn’t your typical novel- there aren’t any “characters” or even much of a plot, but the writing is very smooth and fun to read. It’s humorous at times, and I found myself agreeing with him on many accounts. It was a cozy read all in all.

Some of my favorite quotes:

“We may rouse our souls to some supreme effort, but we cannot steel them against the slow sapping of a sordid commonplace existence.”

Or this:

“Of what practical value is a faith which is so delicate that it must be screened off from every gust of controversy?”

And of course:

“There’s nothing I hate so much as idleness- except perhaps labour.”

What I have learned from this reread is that writing about boredom can become terribly boring.
It is an interesting work for Arthur Conan Doyle fans such as myself. Some of it reads like a diary, some reads like a prep for Sherlock. There are some good ideas, but I cannot call this a great work of literature. I would not categorise this as a novel or a novella. It is an insight to an author's notebook, where he sketched some ideas. It is not a great read. It is an interesting one for a fan.

Meh