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| It may be arguable whether Bret Harte's condensed novels are in fact parodies, but whatever they are, they are undeniably parodic. His retellings of the stories at once mimic the authors' styles and comment on the peculiarities of their thought. I may expand on this some time, but for the moment let me get on with this. First series Handsome is as Handsome Does (Charles Reade) Okay, I'm handicapped here by the fact that I haven't identified the Reade novel this is aimed at, though I suppose it's one of his matter of fact romances. Lothaw (Benjamin Disraeli) A take-off on Lothair. Muck-a-Muck (James Fenimore Cooper) A western view of Cooper's novels, particularly in regard to the image of the Noble Savage. Terence Denville (Charles Lever) ?? Selina Sedilia (???) ?? The Ninety-Nine Guardsmen (Alexandre Dumas) ?? The Dweller of the Threshold (Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer) ?? The Haunted Man (Charles Dickens) ?? Miss Mix (Charlotte Bronte) ?? Guy Heavystone ?? Mr. Midshipman Breezy (Merryat) ?? John Jenkins (T. S. Arthur) ?? No Title (Wilkie Collins) ?? Second Series Rupert the Resembler (Anthony Hope) ?? The Stolen Cigar Case (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle) A vast number of people have attempted Sherlock Holmes takeoffs, mostly with indifferent success. Bret Harte picks on some of the most obvious characteristics of the stories and harps on them -- Dr. Watson's obsequiousness ("With the freedom of an old friend I at once threw myself in my usual familiar attitude at his feet, and gently caressed his boot."), casual references to untold cases ("Pray remember ... that it was through such an apparently trivial question that I found out Why Paul Ferroll Killed His Wife, and What Happened to Jones!"), the scientific paraphernalia ("There were a number of small glass jars containing earthy substances ... Everywhere were evidences of this wonderful man's system and perspicacity.") and like that -- but without really catching the spirit of the stories. Hemlock Jones, it seems, has had a valuable cigar case stolen, and proceeds to follow his own peculiar methods in finding it. Through an ingenious chain of deductions he concludes that Dr. Watson himself has stolen it. "So overpowering was his penetration that, although I knew myself to be innocent, I licked my lips with avidity to hear the further details of this lucid exposition of my crime." At the end of this Watson indignantly asks whether he had even bothered to search the drawer where the cigar case should be. The great detective is so confident in his reasoning that he hasn't bothered to check this elementary point. Watson pulls open the drawer, and sure enough -- well, this is all pretty obvious. Anyway, the take-off is funny, though without much bite. |
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