Adventures to Snæfellsnes Peninsula, Iceland

 

Snæfellsnes Peninsula, Iceland

The drive to the northwest of Iceland was an adventure so much like travelling to another planet. We took a small group tour which picked us up at 9 am. From there, we were no longer in the familiar world.

Travel by way of fjords northwest. A long tunnel dips below the water of a fjord to emerge on the other side - the area of the Snæfellsnes peninsula felt like prehistoric Iceland: whale bones on the beach, chunky grey-blue rocks, and tiptoe grass layering above the sands, all set against the backdrop of the darkest mountains I have seen. Black and imposing, even in the midst of layers of cloud and fog. My imagination sparks alive in this atmosphere. Pausing for the most delicious home cooked lunch at a horse farm, with breathtaking views out the window of said dark mountains. It was here the rain started but there were more dramatic locations to experience. For in Iceland the saying goes that there is no bad weather, just wrong clothing.

The moody, misty atmosphere accompanied the rain and with a bend in the road the sea and dramatic coast came into view. One can not neglect to stand in awe of such scenery, even amidst raindrops.

The famous black church standing firm on the unprotected hillside, exposed to the winds coming off the crashing sea. Huge, mossy boulders broke away from the coast now seem to be frozen in a poetic stance. Protector of the region, statue of Bárður Snæfellsás watches over the paths along the cliff side, ready to help a lost or troubled hiker. I just read/listened to his saga before leaving for Iceland, so it was particularly enjoyable to see the place connected with the saga literature. And the dramatic cliffs rise high above the tumultuous sea. One can just stand there windswept and wet, not wanting to leave that spot too soon.

The atmosphere was mystical and otherworldly and as my nose was glued to the window I could easily see the stories of old running across the lava fields, dancing along these crevices. I could feel the words forming into story - if I had my book out to write I could have started my next tale, but I couldn't take my eyes off the landscape. Still rainy, we drove along the thin roads to the black sand beach Djúpalónssandur, which is like a scene from a mystical epic. Strange rock formations and lush green moss growing on them leads down the path to the black sands. Scattered remnants of a shipwreck from 1948 dotted the wide beach down to the rough waves. It was very mysterious standing there amidst waves and wind, sweeping the past into present.

Icelandic Fog

Foul and dull you dismiss

the fog of our fatherland -

don’t you realize it is

the creator changing his mind?

Like you, he wants the weather

to bear a fitting name,

yet he demurs at either

the sunshine or the rain.

(Stephan Stephansson)

Coffee in Reykjavik

 

Coffee in Reykjavik

The fire and ice sit atop water
smooth like glass on days of grey.
Ragged and wild every other day.
Travelling over mountain and volcano
winds flow across the land and sea
to breeze up the Kárastígur to me.

I order cappuccino and say takk.
A staple order for a coffee stop.
I gently clang my cup back into saucer,
and write more pages to an empty cup.

It's calm for a moment, the steamer heats
the milk for cappuccino to guests
who glide in with loud voices
American sound rises above the rest.

I take the quiet route and slide back
in my notebook, jotting words in mind.
Observing and enjoying the coffee vibe
and hurried figures passing to find.

(At Reykjavik Roasters on Kárastígur)

Nordic Summer in Reykjavik

 

Reykjavik, Iceland
End of August 2022

The sky is still light at 10 pm (last photo). Sunsets are something so dramatic and beautiful, changing every minute, we watched the sky as an evening show from our room each night.

It's still Summer in Iceland, in fact, they only have two seasons - Winter and Summer. Summer, with temperatures from 45-58 degrees Fahrenheit, is like the Winter I know in my Florida life. This air is refreshing. The windswept landscapes seems otherworldly, but I will get to that soon. For now, we are in Reykjavik, the capital city, population just over 200,000.

 We arrive in Iceland at 6 am, after an overnight flight through NYC - JFK airport. A long day of travel and overnight (with no sleep) is always a challenge, but when time is limited, you seize every moment you can and hit the ground running. Or, at least, keep going all day and then crash early that first night.

Mum and I were eager to get out into the city to re-familiarize ourselves with Reykjavik. Our last visit was March 2018 and I think we have been dreaming about it since. We ended up walking around all morning, afternoon, and then crashed at 7:30 pm into our beds. The sun was still up. 

First, coffee. Actually, first, breakfast at our hotel. Then, off to the favourite coffee shop (with several locations around the city, Reykjavik Roasters. Good quality coffee is something I keep coming back to.

We stopped into the lovely Hallgrimskirkja Church where the organist was putting on some practice/composing that drew quite a crowd. We sat to listen for a bit. We took the elevator to the top for the amazing 360 degree views of the city. One of my favourite things in a city is to get up above it to gaze out and get the scope of the layout. I love studying maps and this is kind of like a live version of a map looking down on it all.

Lunchtime called us over to a new location of Reykjavik Roasters (part of an art gallery) where we got a quinoa bowl before touring the museum around the corner of Iceland's first sculptor, The Einar Jónsson Museum. This was a very interesting museum me to me, and it only made me want to research the pieces more, as they were all symbolic and full of imagery. A lot of the pieces reminded me very much of William Blake's artwork.

We walked down to the waterfront for the views of the city and mountains across the water. We stopped in a bookshop to browse. Yes, it was a busy day and we didn't stop. After some dinner at an Italian spot on the way back to the hotel, we crashed, because the next day would be a fun adventure around the city. I was filled with thanks to be there.

The Super-Infinite Donne

 

...in these new heavens and new earth, for ever and ever and ever, and infinite and super-infinite forevers.
- John Donne (from a funeral sermon)

The thing about historical figures is that they (over time and to our culture as it shifts focus) tend to be known for one or two things, which becomes so engrained in the social views and splashes of information, eventually leading to a sort of stereotype without understanding. Any figure who is shrouded in some cloudy historical data is prone to this kind of treatment where gaps and holes are everywhere.

An example of this would be William Shakespeare. I bet you know a lot about Shakespeare, but do you? Could you tell me much about his life at all? His process? His daily life and associations? Maybe you know that he wrote plays and then had them performed at The Globe Theatre on the river Thames in London? Another figure I have admired for many years without knowing much about in this sense is John Donne.

I have always been a bit mystified by the life of the poet John Donne, only knowing a few snippets of his story. Thanks to this new biography, I know a good bit more. He lived in London during the time of Shakespeare (1572- 1631), yet history is rather fuzzy during this era about many things regarding his family life, his siblings, and simple regular historical records. This is partly due to the great fire of 1666, which tore through the City of London and destroyed libraries, buildings, records and his home. His mother was the great-niece of the martyr Sir Thomas More (who wrote Utopia). Many members of his Catholic family were killed for their faith, including his brother who was hiding a priest in his lodgings during a time of persecution.

Such ponderings might arise, for example - did Donne and Shakespeare ever meet, and if so did they talk about poetry and the imagination? They lived at the same time and attended some of the same events. Shakespeare's plays were going on across the river Thames from where Donne lived (did Donne go to any plays? Surely he did). They lived through times of several deadly plagues and immense suffering, as well as the ongoing religious strife between Catholics and Protestants. Donne ends up converting from his Catholic background becoming a clergyman and then the Dean of St. Paul’s Cathedral. He became one of the beloved and well respected figures of London as the Dean, giving many sermons that drew huge crowds.

The ends crown our works, but thou crown'st our ends,
For, at our end begins our endless rest,
This first last end, now zealously possessed,

I think I could ponder on these lines, alone, for days, and his use of the word "end" five times in three lines in relation to a crown and the infinite round circle that a crown exemplifies.

He wrote some of the most multilayered, beguiling poetry in the English language, 200 poems in fact. He was first known for his love poetry, with double meanings and sensual themes. He played with language, creating many words that have their first source of usage in the Oxford English Dictionary from Donne (the word 'commonplacer' for example). Over time as he moved into the role of a clergyman his poems retained all those multi-facets and double-meanings but directed toward the spiritual life in layers and layers of meanings hidden in the poems. I love how the author says Donne was a man so in control of his poems he could layer them with a dozen references. He could write a twelve line sonnet that will take you a week to read. I wrote in the margin next to those sentences "so true". That's definitely how I feel about his sonnets.

Thanks to this new book by Rundell, I now better connect the poems to his life with a fresh understanding and appreciation. Here is a favourite divine poem of mine, that C.S. Lewis borrows the first line for one of his essays:

What if this present were the world's last night?
Mark in my heart, O soul, where thou dost dwell,
The picture of Christ crucified, and tell
Whether that countenance can thee affright,
Tears in his eyes quench the amazing light,
Blood fills his frowns, which from his pierced head fell,
And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell,
Which prayed forgiveness for his foes' fierce spite?
No, no; but as in my idolatry
I said to all my profane mistresses,
Beauty, of pity, foulness only is
A sign of rigour, so I say to thee,
To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assigned,
This beauteous form assures a piteous mind.

Selador: Forbidden Realms - Go Buy Your Copy!

 

Selador: Forbidden Realms is out now! 

I've been awaiting this day with heightened anticipation - the release of my new book!

Go buy your copy on Amazon

This is Book III of my Selador series (all are available on Amazon):
1. Selador: The Book of Time
2. Selador: The Secret Paths
3. Selador: Forbidden Realms

Preview section (from Chapter 7):

Sankin looked like he was going to speak, but Soren shook his head and urged him forward. 

Sankin finally did speak as they walked beyond the gate, “What is this place?” 

Soren was already musing the same question, “A city deep underground. A once wealthy and magnificent place.” 

“Why is it not still?” 

“Did we pass a soul on our way here? A city like this with several gates and checkpoints would have been very grand, and a lot of traffic would have come through here I imagine. It seems rather quieter than it once was.” 

“So this is a perfect example of my vision come to life in a larger form,” His smile was growing, “A great underground realm with so much potential – this could be inspiring.” 

Soren ignored him because he was considering the link with Selador. He proposed in his mind that when this city was bustling, the portalis was being regularly used from Selador, linking the two realms where travellers could come and go using the underground paths that would have linked several locations. 

Since that practice stopped in the Second Age, this city of Arunedil felt the direct impact of not having that link from Selador and perhaps other places. He was eager to see the city that, to him, would be a treasure of history. From what he noted of the guard’s uniform and the intricate carving of the gate, it was once a city of immense beauty and wealth. Was it still?

Will you read the whole series? 
Have you read the other two books?
I always love to hear from readers on thoughts they have on the story, so please reach out to start a conversation!
Thank you to all the support and love for my stories. It means so much.

July Reads

I haven't posted a quick reading update in a long while, so I thought I would share a few of the July reads I have been digging into and learning from. What did you read in July?

Emma by Jane Austen

I haven't read a Jane Austen novel in a long time (too long) and I would say the perfect summer time Austen book is Emma, which has been so fun to re-read. I am picking up so many of the nuances (irony and satire bits) that I absolutely missed in my previously readings years and years ago. The new film adaptation is pretty good (definitely entertaining and vibrant) but I will always say the book is better and I stand by that claim. Austen captures the social aspects and the personalities of the characters so well in the dialogues. You can tell when Ms. Bates talks on and on for a page and a half, jumping from one topic to another like a distracted squirrel, that being around her for more than a short time would be exhausting. You can read how well Emma's attitude and stance on social situations (and her matchmaking) feeds how she thinks she is correct in everything, when she is actually completely and utterly wrong, wrecking havoc over many lives. She is blind to many things, which creates the mishaps (like a comedy of errors) that occur throughout the novel. I got my mum to read this with me, and I hope she's enjoying it.

Aristotle's Way by Edith Hall

This summer I have been fully diving into philosophy. I wrote about this before, and how I missed through my schooling having any sort of adequate dive into philosophy. I am catching up now, reading and listening to lectures and talks on various thinkers through the ages. Aristotle is pretty much essential reading as an ancient philosopher who still resounds today. I read Aristotle's Poetics earlier this year and loved it, so this was a great follow-up to that, with even more information on how he lived and thought. So much of our modern view of how to live a happy life (a good life) comes from Aristotle. 

Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis

I have been wanting to re-read this wonderful book for a couple years now. My deeper dives into philosophy and early Greek teachings have really motivated me to pick this up again, and I am so glad I did. This book is nothing like other Lewis books, but it's right up his street if you know anything about Lewis's interests and study of myths. It's a story from the perspective of the ugly sister, Orual, to the beautiful Psyche, taking place in pre-Christian times. Their father, the king, is a bit unhinged, and he follows the priest's (to the gods) advice to sacrifice his daughter, Psyche. She is left in the wild for the beast to claim, thereby freeing the king. Psyche is, instead, claimed by the god, Cupid, who loves her and she lives in joy with him. Then, Orual travels to visit and see her sister, overjoyed to find her alive, but her jealousy changes everything.

Bullies and Saints by John Dickson

I am deeply interested in learning more about church history, leaders, and events in what has shaped the church since its establishment in the first century. Sometimes we only know the tales as they are told from one side, glossing over the background motivations behind some particular event. The church is not innocent through history - some of the decisions made by leaders of the church caused death and destruction (think about The Crusades, which is just one example). There are two sides to the actions. Good and bad have been done. I am soaking in the knowledge so I can feel my way around history and understand how sweeping changes were caused. I believe the only way to understand what might be happening in our nations and churches today is to look back and grasp some of what already happened (leading to ramifications we feel today).

With Eyes of Appreciation

 

7:15 am.

Downtown St. Louis.

Outside my company's new building. The arch only a couple blocks away.

I enter the city feeling a bit bedraggled, after a very early morning flight, arriving with the dawn to the city I visit each year for a corporate event of gatherings. I could have been groggy and slightly irritable at the inconvenience of a super early wake up of 2:45 am, lack of a breakfast and good coffee, and spending a few hours 38,000 feet above the land on a dark plane journey sitting next to strangers when I could have been in bed. 

But, instead, I am very grateful. My eyes are wide open, fully awake. I find myself marveling. Despite the personal inconveniences of travel, I don't see it as a negative thing. Part of the joy of travel is the adaptation to the surroundings and observations of the scenes. Part of the journey I don't mind too much is the ride - whether it be by train or plane. I get out my book and read the hours away. I look up to view what's going by the windows. I appreciate what is set before me.

And upon arrival after a journey, I sigh a prayer of thanks with a sense of coming to a safe place. Perhaps a place where I know a few people. In this case, a work event, knowing many people (and also not knowing many people). My routine is off its course, my social skills (or lack thereof) kick in. I find myself thrown into a place where I am stretched as an introvert. I know it is good for me, though. I get to meet or catch-up with some very nice people. I get to go up to the 17th floor and take a peak at the office spaces and all the accompanying views of the city, which I personally love to experience in any city. Going to a tall point is one of my favourite things to do in a city, to get to see the outline and expanse. To be able to place the space in a context from above helps me feel more grounded in a wonderfully paradoxical way.

The days speed by in a blur, somehow feeling like multiple days squeezed into each one. Somehow overflowing and full, I wonder how the seams of the day aren't bursting. Travel, whether for work or holiday, sets time to a different pace. It may not be a pace set by yourself, but by others. This might be an uncomfortable feeling, and you can either choose to let go of your own agenda and enjoy that momentary scene before you, or feel trapped in a scene you cannot escape, set upon you by others. It's all about your choice in that view. I have come to St. Louis every year (at least once a year) for the last nine years and I think I see it with eyes of appreciation better and better each time.

Sneak Peak - Selador: Forbidden Realms

 

COMING SOON! Okay, I have been holding off long enough. The third book of Selador is written! Currently editing and reviewing the hard copy proof, and I am just too excited to hold it close to myself any longer. I wanted to share a small tidbit passage for you, if you read the first two books (Selador: The Book of Time and Selador: The Secret Paths) you might be interested in continuing the story in my third book - Selador: Forbidden Realms.

By the way, the first two books are available on Amazon, and they were on sale when I last checked!
Click Here for The Book of Time

Click Here for The Secret Paths

Writing this third book has been a totally enjoyable immersive experience for me, so full of intrigue and mystery, in which I have been able to explore a variety of long overdue playing with the imaginative creation. It invokes the richness of what J.R.R. Tolkien liked so much about the words "cellar door", or "selador" in that it opens up your imagination to other worlds. It was a doorway to another place, but you didn't quite know where. That's exactly what this book does. You will see when you read it. I will be sure to post the release date soon. But in case you cannot wait, here is a little preview:

A preview chapter from - Selador: Forbidden Realms

Something in the air felt different. Stepping out onto her balcony wrapped in a shawl on an early morning before sunrise, Nella got the sense that the realm was waking up to something new. Buds were emerging with a fresh-toned green popping up as birds chirped a cheery tune. She caught glimpses of the tiny birds as they fluttered to and fro on their morning chores which ranged from branch to branch. The shift of the seasons was among them, as winter gave way to spring, a little more each day the re-awakening of nature was pushing through the frozen sleep of winter.

Nella took a deep breath and sweet scents of growth and earth reached her nose and filled her with delightful notions of running through a field of flowers, which she had never done, of course. But one can dream, and the beginning of spring awakened an essence of a dream in her. Beauty was emerging from the seeming deadness of branches, reminding her that deep roots are not touched by the frost, as the fire of spring awakens them, and they know it is time to grow.

A glimpse of blooms from a tree nearby caught her eye. Pink had burst forth overnight creating a visual representation of the coming season. It was still quite cold, though, and she was grateful for her warm shawl.

She was up earlier than usual as she could not sleep. Her thinking came best in the mornings anyway, and after an hour or so at her desk writing, she came out to the balcony to get a pre-dawn refreshment from nature. 

Being high up in the trees, the sun rose early, so it was cresting now on the horizon casting warm rays of glowing light scattered across the forest. That morning dawn was so welcoming to Nella, as it awakened everyone in the realm with the same light.

Many days had gone by since she lost her father to the portalis, a doorway leading (as many believed) into another unknown realm. Was it only days ago? It almost felt like months to her. Her days have been consumed by trying to figure out how to get him back, but she was having trouble finding much information in the history books. Granted, she had a lot of books to go through (a few hundred or so) and she had occasional help from Master Nolan, but it was a bit like trying to sort through an ocean of words to find a piece of eligible seaweed. 

The problem with history books is that they may not hold fully accurate information, depending on who was writing, so it really needed to be discovered in the previous Books of Time as well. If that aligns with what is written in the history book, then there is a good chance it would be accurate to work off.

After several late evenings at the library buried in research Nella almost felt tempted to just follow her father into the portalis to try to get to him, to make sure he is okay and to ask all the questions she didn’t get to ask yet, but she knew it would be fruitless and thoughtless. The problem of getting back through a one-way doorway needed to be solved from here. 

Nella’s mother was due to bring her father’s papers and journals to her that day at the library. She could not wait to dive into her father’s handwritten notes and findings. There, she knew she had a great chance of finding a clue.

As to the village itself, things began to go back to a quasi-normal after the attack on the village and a day of mourning, but then a couple days of clean-up and assisting those who had losses turned into a longer task. 

Not everything could be done so quickly. Repairs were being done in some areas whilst many more waited for attention, but losses of villagers would not be so easily repaired. Master Louver and Lady Cora were mostly attending to the people and the safety of the village, overseeing those things were being taken care of in the aftermath of the attack. 

Nella’s mother Edith was also involved with the restoration and oversight, which is why she had barely seen Nella nor been able to give her Soren’s papers yet. She had many keen ideas for better gates and protective measures for the village to implement. Nella had offered to assist with the projects as well, but Master Louver dismissed her, telling her to work in her research instead. There were plenty of others available who were craftsmen to re-build and those with prior knowledge like her mother who could help with making improvements. 

Rather than feeling dismissed Nella was relieved, as her specialty was not in building or restoring projects, but by writing by hand the changes needed. Some changes were discussed and asked of her, which Nella implemented in The Book of Time as requested by Master Louver.

While Master Nolan was pulled in many directions across the village, he was spending very little time in the library researching with Nella. He would set aside time in the morning to drop in whilst Nella was digging into the pages, but he was always called away a short time later, which lasted until late into the evening. Nella knew this would slow down eventually, but she feared that his duties to the village would be so much that his collaboration time forever limited. 

She said nothing, though. She knew that he was too kind to say no to the village needs, which on the whole, were probably far greater than her own.

So she tucked herself away with a path of convoluted historical entries when she could find them, and the subsequent trial to find any pairing in the Books of Time. She felt fully contented in the work, for as she dug, she was learning more about the ways of past Ages from a historical viewpoint as well as the corresponding entries. She hoped that some of this information would store itself in her memory and she could pull from it in the future. 

Things were very different in past Ages. As she began her journey into the writings, she noticed there to be a focus on the development of knowing what was beyond the realm and exploring that whole concept, hence the portalis usage, which clearly became misused. But before that, there were schools of students who studied space and time, and the mysterious elements that connect living things. What happened to that? Why was it no longer even talked about?

Most of the information was from the First Age, which is the time period when she knew the portalis was used often and taught in schools according to the histories. This is where she felt she would find information she needed to break the dormant elements of their current days. The suppression of using the magical elements of the portalis and The Book of Time became evident in the Second Age. 

Was she the first to break its dormancy, in the creation of a portalis? If so, she knew her knowledge at this time of how they worked was so limited, and that needed to change. She knew they were one-way doorways, but where did they lead? Was she just the vessel by which their realm could be linked to somewhere else?

Nearby rustling branches indicated birds were close by and their chirps confirmed it. Bright leaves reflecting the new sunlight brought her back to her balcony as she felt suddenly that more was going to change than she even knew, and she was not sure she was ready for all of it.

Browsing the Books as the Rain Falls

 

It was perfectly timed. On a day out of town an essential stop was, naturally, a bookstore (Barnes & Noble in this case). The clouds were massive grey buildings in the sky as we entered the bookstore, and here we are in the depths of summer, so it's likely that means a storm is about to crack open, but who can say when the sky will open and for how long? It is kind of a guessing game.

Maybe ten minutes after entering the bookstore the rumbles were overhead with lightning flashing through the windows and heavy rain pounding the pavement and cars parked outside. The sudden roar of the storm outside brought an element of comfort being inside and away from the stormy nature. And we had a whole bookstore to explore - as I said, perfect timing. The atmosphere of delight grew with a storm outside and books inside. It isn't too often that I visit a big bookstore and spend a good hour or more browsing so it was a treat. 

Isn't it interesting how we react to strong weather particularly? Weather in the form of storms might raise fear and trepidation to some, but others may feel a sense of intrigue and mystery. The elements combining above our heads swirling with heat and colliding with colder air in the far reaches of the sky create a (sometimes) violent reaction in the form of sounds, sights, and moisture. It is fascinating. I recognize one can feel that fascination from the safe place such as an indoor location. If you get caught outside or on the road trying to drive it might not be quite as fascinating. However, from this particular experience inside a bookstore, it's full of intrigue and bookish possibility.

I restrained myself and only bought one book (and a couple little journals, one a gift) and it was a lovely afternoon excursion. By the time we paid and left, just a drizzle was falling, and the sky soon cleared out from all rain and storm remnants, leaving behind a slate grey palate.

How are you spending your summer? On the road? In the pool? At relatives' houses? Curled up on the cosy chair with a stack of books within arm's reach and possibly a cup of tea at the ready? You can tell where I am most of the time. Wishing you all the best this summer, with many books in your hands.

Sherlock and the Hound

 

But we hold several threads in our hands, and the odds are that one or other of them guides us to the truth. We may waste time in following the wrong one, but sooner or later, we must come upon the right.
- Sherlock Holmes in The Hound of the Baskervilles

The well known tale of Victorian gothic mystery - I have a feeling you might know it. But do you? Do you ever notice how you think you know a tale, but realize as you read the book for the first time, you really never knew much at all? This is the danger of a story being so wide-spread and 'known' in society and displayed through various channels of entertainment. We think we know a story, but we actually only know a movie version or a brief synopsis given by someone online or that we heard somewhere, but in the end we don't turn to the original source material to read ourselves. This book I think is a good example of such a faulty knowledge. And I fall down as an 'Exhibit A' of one who thought I knew this tale, but didn't. Take this theme on a much larger philosophical scale and you can see some of the issues in our culture today.

In the introduction of this lovely clothbound Penguin Classics edition of The Hound of the Baskervilles it is noted that this story was meant for the page; all the adaptations for the screen don't cut it (I am paraphrasing for sheer brevity). The thing about movies or television adaptations is that most of them change certain aspects of the original story to fit their imaginations. It is good and/or bad, depending on how well an adaptation is done and on ones views on staying true to the original text.

I thought I knew a few things about this story somehow through osmosis of culture, yet when I opened these first pages, I knew not where this story was going. Which to me, was a thrill. I let Sherlock and his quips and comments make me smile as he converses with Watson. If you've seen the screen versions of this, but haven't read it, go read it.

Always will I be one to stand tall and say 'the book is always better' than the movie, tv, etc, and I hold firm to that notion. An entire focus/theme/metaphor/lesson of the author's intent can be removed from any adaptation, so really, it can become another author coming in to make it their own. But I want to know what the original text is saying, especially in the context of the time it was written. For that, the original text needs to be perused.

I loved getting to see all the quirky characteristics of Sherlock through the eyes of John Watson's writing including a few letters and diary entries. The little jokes and sarcastic remarks made me smirk throughout. This book is a rare longer story of Sherlock (most of the adventures are short stories), and it encompasses all the aspects of why you love these characters so much. The hauntingly atmospheric scenes in this mystery in the Devonshire countryside were set into my imagination by fluid detailed writing by Conan Doyle. So while there may be many threads our culture uses now to tell a story, I vouch for the page as the one I prefer. It may not be 'right' or wrong in terms of solving a mystery to the satisfaction of culture, but to me it is much more satisfying.