Post by account_disabled on Dec 25, 2023 22:44:53 GMT -6
A new Sherlock Holmes novel has been approved by Conan Doyle's literary executor . Doyle produced four novels and 56 short stories about the character. Writer Anthony Horowitz has been chosen to write the new story of Sherlock Holmes, creator and writer of the TV series Foyles War and Midsomer Murders . “I fell in love with Sherlock Holmes stories when I was six,” Horowitz says, “and by the time I was 16 I had read them many times. I just couldn't resist the opportunity to write a new adventure of this literary icon." Horowitz wants to set the story in today's world, while leaving the original spirit of the stories intact. This is the first time that Doyle's literary executor has officially authorized a project involving the character of Sherlock Holmes. I must say that I have never been in favor of resurrecting the characters of the great authors of the past.
But I also bought Joe R. Lansdale 's Jungle Killers , a commissioned novel about Tarzan. But in that case it's Lansdale and I'm sure he will be loyal to Burroughs, even though he obviously won't be Burroughs. I also wonder what sense it makes to set Sherlock Holmes in the third millennium. Will it prevent a terrorist attack in London? I remain skeptical Special Data about works like this.They decided to leave the food on the floor and leave, but they never left that building again. Not alive, at least. What happened that night is a dull memory in my mind. I have flashbacks that occasionally appear in my memory, like flashes of light in the darkness. They are sudden and sharp. I can still hear the screams of the three men. I hear the bursts of their machine guns, which miss. I hear broken bones and other sounds that are best left unremembered. I then see myself eating meat, finally. I see myself crouching on the ground, over my prey, like a beast from prehistoric times. The flavor is good, pleasant. But maybe that was a dream. I'm not sure.
Then other voices broke the silence. They came from outside. I looked out the window and the screams got louder. The surveillance post was strengthened with more men and after a few minutes an Army armored vehicle arrived, taken from who knows where. I saw him arrive quickly towards the door, break it down and thus enter the building. No one else except the men from the vehicle entered. Then it was chaos. I remember almost nothing of what happened. Hours later I found myself driving that armored vehicle on the road. My laptop was on the seat next to me, so I had some moments of clarity. There were also spare petrol cans inside. I could therefore count on a lot of fuel. I traveled with the windows open, even though I was shivering with the cold, but I had to stay clear and not let my alter ego take over. The vehicle wasn't fast and the road didn't allow me to run.
But I also bought Joe R. Lansdale 's Jungle Killers , a commissioned novel about Tarzan. But in that case it's Lansdale and I'm sure he will be loyal to Burroughs, even though he obviously won't be Burroughs. I also wonder what sense it makes to set Sherlock Holmes in the third millennium. Will it prevent a terrorist attack in London? I remain skeptical Special Data about works like this.They decided to leave the food on the floor and leave, but they never left that building again. Not alive, at least. What happened that night is a dull memory in my mind. I have flashbacks that occasionally appear in my memory, like flashes of light in the darkness. They are sudden and sharp. I can still hear the screams of the three men. I hear the bursts of their machine guns, which miss. I hear broken bones and other sounds that are best left unremembered. I then see myself eating meat, finally. I see myself crouching on the ground, over my prey, like a beast from prehistoric times. The flavor is good, pleasant. But maybe that was a dream. I'm not sure.
Then other voices broke the silence. They came from outside. I looked out the window and the screams got louder. The surveillance post was strengthened with more men and after a few minutes an Army armored vehicle arrived, taken from who knows where. I saw him arrive quickly towards the door, break it down and thus enter the building. No one else except the men from the vehicle entered. Then it was chaos. I remember almost nothing of what happened. Hours later I found myself driving that armored vehicle on the road. My laptop was on the seat next to me, so I had some moments of clarity. There were also spare petrol cans inside. I could therefore count on a lot of fuel. I traveled with the windows open, even though I was shivering with the cold, but I had to stay clear and not let my alter ego take over. The vehicle wasn't fast and the road didn't allow me to run.