I came home one day from the seventh grade to find a suspicious mound under a white tea-towel. Is it only in my memory that my mother removed the towel with a flourish reminiscent of Holmes in “The Naval Treaty”? The book had arrived! And it had more than just the stories. The Book (as my friend Steve Winter has always called it) also came with an introduction by a man named Christopher Morley that was magical; I read it and re-read it.
I read the book with great enjoyment when I bought it, probably not long after its publication 20 years ago. Now I've decided it's time to read it again. This time around, I plan to read an essay a night before I go to bed, the same way I read Sherlock Alive, Karen Murdock's wonderful colleciton of Vincent Starrett's Sherlockian columns.
At least, that's the goal. I may not be able to stop at one essay.