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Grex > Books > #100: The Summer Mysterious Quote item | |
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janc
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The Summer Mysterious Quote item
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Jun 24 02:23 UTC 2001 |
Welcome to the Summer "Mysterious Quote" item. In this item, somebody
(usually whoever won the last one) enters a quote from a novel or other book.
Other people try to guess the author. That's about all the rules, I think.
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| 104 responses total. |
janc
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response 1 of 104:
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Jun 24 02:31 UTC 2001 |
I'm up after having guessed Edmond Spenser.
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janc
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response 2 of 104:
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Jun 24 02:52 UTC 2001 |
"Thank you," he said. "Lestrade, would you mind pulling the crate over
from the corner? Just put it here, thank you." He leaned forward, untied
the grubby string, and removed the top with the flourish of a conjurer.
Inside was a jumble of chromium-plated bits of metal, hunks of broken glass,
a large slab of dented mud guard, and a sheaf of the inevitable evidence
envelopes. My heart twisted at the sight, then started to beat heavily.
I must have moved or made a sound, because _______ looked at me.
"Yes, ________, the murder weapon. Or rather, portions of it. I knew
it would be there, once I knoew that Miss Ruskin had been killed by a
motorcar, and particularly when the machine was not found nearby, stolen,
used, and abandoned. Why a motorcar, a method which took at least two
persons to arrange and had all the attendant danger of the telltale damage?
The person who thought of it had to have the vehicles both ready to mind and
near to hand; plus, the means of repairing damage must be available to him.
I knew I should find some such facility as a garage, and the only danger was
how thoroughly they had covered their tracks. In this case, they were too
sure of themselves--Jason Rogers had rid himself of the pertinent sections
in a load of other scrap metal to a local dealer, from whom I retrieved them."
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gelinas
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response 3 of 104:
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Jun 24 02:58 UTC 2001 |
I think I remember Inspector Lestrade, but I don't remember this story. A
pastiche?
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rcurl
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response 4 of 104:
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Jun 24 04:56 UTC 2001 |
Everyone knows who Lestrade went to, to get his murder cases solved.....
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other
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response 5 of 104:
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Jun 24 05:03 UTC 2001 |
Then this author would be Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?
Though some elements seem a bit anachronistically recent.
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janc
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response 6 of 104:
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Jun 24 06:04 UTC 2001 |
Nope, not Doyle. Here's another quote from the same book which is,
perhaps, a bit less deceptive, though as everyone noticed, the previous
one already had strong hints of not being Doyle:
I watched him as his long fingers caressed the much-travelled
envelope and his eyes drew significance from every smudge, every
characteristic of the paper and ink and stamp, and it occurred to
me suddenly that Sherlock Holmes was bored.
The thought was not a happy one. No person, certainly no woman,
likes to think that her marriage has lessened the happiness of her
partner. I thrust the troublesome idea from me, reached up to rub
a twinge from my right shoulder, and spoke with a shade more irritation
than was called for.
"My dear Holmes, this verges on _deducto_ad_absurdum_. Were you to
open the envelope and identify the writer, it might just simplify
matters."
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scott
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response 7 of 104:
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Jun 24 13:31 UTC 2001 |
Nicholas Meyer?
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janc
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response 8 of 104:
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Jun 24 23:03 UTC 2001 |
Not Meyer.
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polygon
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response 9 of 104:
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Jun 25 01:45 UTC 2001 |
John Dickson Carr.
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janc
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response 10 of 104:
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Jun 25 02:58 UTC 2001 |
Not Carr.
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sholmes
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response 11 of 104:
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Jun 25 03:58 UTC 2001 |
Not me either.
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janc
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response 12 of 104:
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Jun 25 04:43 UTC 2001 |
From a earlier book than the previous two:
"Mr Holmes," I said, feeling myself go pink, "may I ask you a question?"
"Certainly, Miss Russell."
"How does _The_Valley_of_Fear_ end?" I blurted out.
"The *what*?" He sounded astonished.
"_Valley_of_Fear_. In _The_Strand_. I hate these serials, and next
month is the end of it, but I just wondered if you could tell me, well,
how it turned out."
"This is one of Watson's tales, I take it?"
"Of course. It's the case of Birlstone and the Scowrers and John
McMurdo and Professor Moriarty and--"
"Yes, I believe I can identify the case, although I have often wondered
why, if Conan Doyle so likes pseudonyms he couldn't have given them to
Watson and myself as well."
"So how does it end?"
"I havent the faintest notion. You'll have to ask Watson."
"But surely you know how the case ended," I said, amazed.
"The case, certainly. But what Watson has made of it, I couldn't begin
to guess, except that there is bound to be gore and passion and secret
handshakes. Oh, and some sort of love interest. I deduce, Miss Russell;
Watson transforms. Good day."
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oddie
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response 13 of 104:
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Jun 25 07:54 UTC 2001 |
I heard a radio play like this once... <ponder>
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blaise
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response 14 of 104:
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Jun 25 20:10 UTC 2001 |
John Gardner.
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janc
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response 15 of 104:
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Jun 26 03:41 UTC 2001 |
Nope. Unlike everyone guessed so far, the author is a woman.
Continuing to travel backward in literary time:
"You have not answered my question, sir," I bit off.
He ignored my fury. Worse than that, he seemed unaware of it.
He looked merely bored, as if he wished I might go away.
"What am I doing here, do you mean?"
"Exactly."
"I am watching bees," he said flatly, and turned back to his
contemplation of the hillside.
Nothing in the man's manner showed a madness to correspond with his
words. Nonetheless I kept an wary eye on hom as I thrust my book into
my coat pocket and dropped to the ground--a safe distance away from
him--and studied the movement in the flowers before me.
There were indeed bees, industriously working at stuffing pollen
into those leg sacs of theirs, moving from flower to flower. I watched,
and was just thinking that there was nothing particularly noteworthy
about these bees when my eyes were caught by the arrival of a peculiarly
marked specimen. It seemed an ordinary honeybee but had a small red
spot on its back. How odd--perhaps what he had been watching? I
glanced at Eccentric, who was now staring intently off into space, and
then looked more closely at the bees, interested in spite of myself. I
quickly concluded that the spot was no natural phenomenon, but rather
paint, for there was another bee, its spot slightly lopsided, and
another, and then another odd things: a bee with a blue spot as well.
As I watched, two red spots flew off in a northwesterly direction. I
carefully observed the blue-and-red spot as it filled its pouches and
saw it take off toward the northeast.
I thought for a minute, got up, and walked to the top of the hill,
scattering ewes and lambs, and when I looked down at the village [...].
"I'd say the blue spots are the better bet, if you're trying for
another hive," I told him. "The ones you've only marked with red are
probably from Mr. Warner's orchard. The blue spots are farther away,
but they're almost sure to be wild ones." I dug the book from my
pocket, and when I looked up to wish him a good day he was looking at
me, and the expression on his face took all words from my lips--no mean
accomplishment. He was, as the writers say but people seldom actually
are, openmouthed. He looked a bit like a fish, in fact, gaping at me as
if I were growing another head. He slowly stood up, his mouth shutting
as he rose, but still staring.
"*What* did you say?"
"I beg your pardon, are you hard of hearing?" I raised my voice
somewhat and spoke slowly. "I said, if you want a new have you'll have
to follow the blue spots, because the reds are sure to be Tom Warner's."
"I am not hard of hearing, although I am short of credulity. How do
you come to know of my interests?"
"I should have thought it obvious," I said impatiently, though even at
that age I was aware tht such things were not obvious to the majority of
people. "I see paint on your pocket handkerchief, and traces on your
fingers where you wiped it away. The only reason to mark bees that I
can think of is to enable one to follow them to their hive. You are
either interested in gathering honey or in the bees themselves, and it
is not the time of year to harvest honey. Three months ago we had an
unusual cold spell that killed many hives. Therefore I assume that you
are tracking these in order to replenish your stock."
The face that looked down at me was no longer fishlike. In fact, it
resembled amazingly a captive eagle I had once seen, perched in aloof
splendour looking down the ridge of its nose at this lessor creature,
cold disdain staring out from his hooded grey eyes.
"My God," he said in a voice of mock wonder, "it can think."
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beeswing
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response 16 of 104:
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Jun 26 05:00 UTC 2001 |
I am watching bees too :) Har!
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mdw
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response 17 of 104:
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Jun 26 05:21 UTC 2001 |
I hope it's not that vampire woman, Anne Rice.
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swa
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response 18 of 104:
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Jun 26 06:57 UTC 2001 |
Laurie King.
I *think* that's the name I'm thinking of.
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mooncat
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response 19 of 104:
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Jun 26 14:58 UTC 2001 |
Hmm, when someone gets it right I'll be interested in looking this book
up, sounds like fun.
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rcurl
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response 20 of 104:
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Jun 26 17:15 UTC 2001 |
Summer 2001 agora 21 has been linked to books 100.
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blaise
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response 21 of 104:
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Jun 26 18:43 UTC 2001 |
Carole Nelson Douglas.
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janc
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response 22 of 104:
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Jun 26 21:03 UTC 2001 |
Sara has it: Laurie R. King.
I've only read her Holmes books. The series so far is:
The Beekeeper's Apprentice
A Monsterous Regiment of Women
A Letter of Mary
The Moor
Oh Jerusalem
The first two quotes were from "A Letter of Mary", the remainder from "The
Beekeeper's Apprentice". The first and last books listed are good fun. For
some reason I omitted to buy "The Moor". There is, of course, a whole genre
of Sherlock Holmes stories, so I thought it'd be fun to do a quote where the
main character was immediately identifiable, but the author not. I was
tempted by Larry Millet's Adventures of Sherlock Holmes in Minnesota (yes,
three whole books about Holmes in Minnesota), but they aren't really that
good. I've never felt he really capture the real Holmes as well as Ms King
does.
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rcurl
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response 23 of 104:
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Jun 27 01:03 UTC 2001 |
There is, of course a Doyle story that describes at length events
that occurred in America, albeit not in Minnesota.
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gelinas
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response 24 of 104:
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Jun 27 04:50 UTC 2001 |
There is? I've read the Complete Sherlock Holmes, but I don't remember any
story describing his time in America. One opens with him smoking a cigarette
and blaming it on his trip, but that's it. An argument could be made that
A Study in Scarlet and The Three (or was it Five?) Orange Pips reflect
knowledge gained while travelling across America.
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