What kind of ape was Tarzan raised by?

Guess 1: There was a phonology book in the cabin. Not even a hypergenius could actually learn a spoken language that way, but with enough detail about physiology, it would probably be possible to figure out how to spell a simple word. (For which, of course, there was no wrong spelling. Maybe he pronounced it more like Durson, but once he spelled it Tarzan, that was how it was spelled. Heck, he was an English aristocrat, maybe he pronounced it Throat-Warbler Mangrove or Chumley.)

Guess 2: Perhaps he used something other than a sound-spelling of his name, but Burroughs eliminated this point for the sake of the story. He might have used a glyph or a scrawl, especially if he had read accounts of sailors and illiterates using a “mark” as a signature. Clayton et al. would have only learned the pronunciation later. This would have complicated the story and dragged it down, so Burroughs simply had him write his name without explanation.

Or he might have used other words or letters to describe himself. Maybe he combined the letters of appropriate words in a pleasing-to-him arrangement, or translated the meaning of his name into English. The latter could have been Whitey or White (a good English surname) of the Apes, since Tarzan meant “white skin.” This might plausibly have identified his lordship in other accounts, and confused the reader, so again Burroughs would likely have substituted the name he used for his account. Besides, “Whitey of the Apes” or (in the former of the cases mentioned) “Mape of the Apes” would have been unlikely to have produced the effect desired upon the reader.

Guess 3: The passage in which Tarzan first kills an African and contemplates eating him has every sign of being an interpolation designed to reassure the reader of Tarzan’s human morality. The story gives every plausible reason why Tarzan would have naturally eaten the man he killed, but implausibly and rather transparently claims that he didn’t, and so “hereditary instinct . . . saved him from transgressing a worldwide law of whose very existence he was ignorant.” Obviously, Tarzan did, in fact, eat his victim, and this overwrought defense was merely a cover to give comfort to the reader and make the tale acceptable to society - and perhaps the publisher.

Given this, it seems likely that other concessions to decency would also have been made, and we may assume the letters, in which he wrote his name, are another. These almost entirely concern his initial encounter and communication with Clayton and the rest of the party, especially Jane. These points, too, are particularly implausible to anyone acquainted with the ways of brute animals, which Tarzan would be most likely to follow without question. Undoubtedly upon spying for the first time members of his own people, and particularly a group of men accompanying a female he found attractive, he would immediately have captured them in the cabin and buggered them raw, male and female, singularly and at once. Naturally, they would all have agreed - especially after he became their friend and romantically engaged with Miss Porter - never to speak of this again, and so some other explanation for their learning of his presence and identity had to be invented. The story of the notice and the letters was therefore a polite fiction in an otherwise unwavering tale.

For the record, in Farmer’s version of the Game in Tarzan Alive, John Clayton is not only Earl of Greystoke but also Duke of Holdernesse (and several other lesser titles) – the grandson of the Socialist Duke-turned-hackney-driver whom Holmes and Watson encounter in one story. (One of several links between the Burroughs and Conan Doyle canons for the Game.)

His suggestion is that the Mangani were the survivors of a “Pithecanthropine” (H. erectus) race, restricted to a remote coastal forest in Gabon, and now probably extinct. I believe he also hypothecated Tarzan coining his name in a rebus-like manner from a child’s primer which his parents had brought along for his eventual education.

Thanks for the explanation of where you’re coming from, that helps. Actually, I don’t think anyone really does think that the stories are based on fact. The Game is to PRETEND that you think that, and see what happens. With Sherlock Holmes, it’s a li’l different – there are people who do (and did) think he was real. With Tarzan… well, I suppose there could be, but generally, no. No one really confuses ape-man king-of-the-jungle with anything but pulp fiction or camp.

Actaully, I think that is the point. It’s a literary Game. It’s not a matter of belief, but of spoofing scholarly writers and literary analysts by pretending to take the fiction seriously. However, it’s more than just spoof, it becomes an entertainment in itself (hence, “Game.”) I’m sorry if my original Report wasn’t clear on that; I’ll try to take a look and see whether I should edit it (but that won’t happen for a few weeks.)

It’s not much different than people who sit around arguing about Ben Kenobi telling Luke that Darth Vader killed his father. Or about whether so-and-so on LOST is really dead. Or whether Hamlet was crackers or just pretending. It’s basically discussions about literature (or movies or similar) that extend to a different level.

I was mostly being a smart-ass in my answer. But in terms of the Game, the name “Tarzan” (and virtually every other name in the stories) was made up by Burroughs in a very wise decision not to annoy everybody’s favorite feral superhuman.

Also, it was Viscount.)

Time for some history. Of course, in Mapcase world, it’s always time for some history. :slight_smile:

There are three types of fake Sherlockian literature.

Outright parodies came first. The earliest one I know of (enthusiasts are always making finds in forgotten places so this may have been superseded) is “Detective Stories Gone Wrong: The Adventures of Sherlaw Kombs,” by Robert Barr writing under the name of Luke Sharp (Look Sharp) and published in The Idler Magazine in May 1892.

Pastiches differ from parodies is that they purport to be actual adventures of Sherlock Holmes, recently “discovered” and rescued from oblivion. At first they were all set in Victorian London and tried to emulate the atmosphere as closely as possible. Today, anything goes and Holmes is apparently immortal. The first that I know of is the insanely scarce and valuable “The Unique Hamlet” by Vincent Starrett, privately printed and handed out to friends in 1920. A copy today is for sale at $6500. Fortunately, it’s been republished many times since, first in Ellery Queen’s collection of spoofs, The Misadventures of Sherlock Holmes, which also contains Barr’s story. The anthology was suppressed by the Doyle estate for an arcane bit of copyright violation and itself costs in the hundreds of dollars. You can find “The Unique Hamlet” and a different Luke Sharp parody in the cheap and easily available collection The Game Is Afoot, edited by Marvin Kaye.

The best Holmes parodies, possibly the best series of parodies ever done and I know how big a claim that is as a collector of literary parodies, are by Robert L. Fish, collected in a single volume: Schlock Homes: The Complete Bagel Street Saga. ROTFLMAO might have been invented to describe these pieces.

So when did The Game, as we’re calling it here, start? It’s usually attributed to the then 23-year-old Ronald A. Knox, a recent graduate of Oxford who was made a fellow of Trinity College in 1910. He was the kind of guy who singlehandedly translated St. Jerome’s Vulgate Bible into English, but had that heavyhanded sense of humor so prized by the hip upper-class set. In 1911 he gave a lecture called “Studies in the Literature of Sherlock Holmes” to the Gryphon Club at Trinity. It was published in the college magazine The Blue Book in 1912. He made it a set piece and gave the lecture all over the place in England. It was finally printed in an easily-available source in his Essays in Satire in 1928. (Still available relatively cheaply used, and later reprinted.)

It’s a parody of scholarly fuss and detail, with Knox “disputing” fake scholars with names like Backnecke, M. Papier Maché, M. Piff-Pouff, and Professor Sabaglione. Like Poe, however, everything in the field stems from elements of this one *ur *article. Knox examines the twisted chronology, the silly errors Doyle made whenever he touched on an academic subject, the suspicion that that the Holmes who appears after “The Final Problem” is an impostor who doesn’t act like Holmes, and coins the term Sherlockismus (attributed to Ratzegger) to cover the wonderful bits of arrogance that make Holmes who he was, like “Let me call your attention to the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.” “The dog did nothing at all in the night-time.” “That was the curious incident,” said Sherlock Holmes. (True Sherlockians will note that this is a paraphrase rather than a proper quote. All of Knox’s quotes are wrong. There needs to be a Knox literature to determine whether this is a mistake or also part of the joke. I lean toward mistake.)

One you start pulling Doyle apart you quickly discover that he was the worst hack writer who ever lived, a man who hated his Holmes stories so much that he didn’t go back and bother reading the first half when writing the second half. This gives an almost infinite amount of material to work with.

But never enough. Back when I discovered The Baker Street Journal 40 years ago, writers were already bottom-feeding by doing articles on James Bond and Holmes and similar nonsense.

So there’s really two variations to The Game. One is to spot all the errors Doyle makes and then to explain them away or create a hypothesis that would make them all true. Watson’s handwriting has been blamed for an astounding number of “printer’s errors” over the years. There’ve been a number of full-length books on the chronology problems alone. One is by William S. Baring-Gould, whose annotated Holmes I agree is much more fun than Klinger’s ponderous annotation of contemporary England. Baring-Gould was a true nutty eccentric who lived The Game and had some of the wildest theories ever put into print. (Like that Nero Wolfe was Holmes’ bastard son by Irene Adler. Look the vowel patterns in Sherlock and Nero and in Holmes and Wolfe. If that doesn’t prove it, nothing will.) (OK, the notion was originally concocted by Dr. John Clarke, but everybody associates it with Baring-Gould today. I mean, look at the vowels.)

The other is to take the lacunae, the missing periods of time when Doyle doesn’t talk about Holmes is doing, and fill in those gaps by placing Holmes in the center of every historic act that occurred in his lifetime, however extended that lifetime might be. This was popularized by Nicholas Meyer’s 1974 The Seven-Percent Solution. After Meyer, the deluge. (Though it took many more years than would seem plausible after such a publishing success. I’m not sure if complications raised by the Doyle estate made it difficult.)

So there it is. Holmes is an infinitely malleable archetype. You can read his adventures, read his extended adventures, write about reading his adventures, invent some new adventures, or use him the way fantasy baseball players use baseball - as a source of games, research, characters, and reinvention. The Game is and can be anything you want it to be, making it tough to pin down on the page. There are subsets of subsets of players so you can hook up with any shared set of interests.

I love the parodies, myself, though they’re scorned by the serious players. Doesn’t matter. They have their playground, I have mine. Let The Games begin!

A damn, dirty one.

I’d only add that, when Knox wrote and gave the lecture that became the essay “Studies in the Literature of Sherlock Holmes” he was finishing up his studies for the Anglican priesthood (he was ordained in 1912). IIRC, it’s generally agreed that “Studies in the Literature of Sherlock Holmes” is as much a parody of then current fashions in Biblical studies and criticism as it is a “study” of the Holmesian canon.

I agree with your characterization of Doyle as a “hack writer”, but disagree with the characterization as “the worst hack writer”; if Doyle was the worst he’d have never written what are among the most popular series of stories and short novels ever written, nor created two of the most enduring (if not the two most enduring) characters in all of English literature.

Back when I was an active Sherlockian I gained a certain amount of amusement iin ferreting out the folks in Sherlockian groups who had an inflated sense of Doyle’s worth as a writer; all I had to do was work the phrase “Arthur Conan Doyle was a hack…” into my comments and watch carefully for the persons whose faces turned various shades of deep red-to-purple as their rage built…

Cheers,

bcg

That was certainly how Sayers (who knew Knox) explicitly treated it.

On the other hand, The White Company reads like a 14-year-old’s attempt at a pastiche of Scott.

Or Henty.

No doubt it is that. It’s much more explicit in others of the essays, like “The Identity of the Pseudo-Bunyan.” But he also parodies other fads of the day, as in “Jottings from a Psycho-Analyst’s Note-Book,” and chops up the pretenses of the nutty anti-Shakespeareans by using a complicated series of codes and anagrams in “The Authorship of ‘In Memoriam’” to prove that Queen Victoria wrote Tennyson.

Knox wasn’t trying to invent Sherlockian studies. He created a fairly standard, well, an advanced and longer-lived, piece of undergraduate humor. You can look at the contemporaneous American college humor magazines that were being edited by later humor giants as Benchley and Perelman and Corey Ford to see what bright young things were thinking. Knox was just a bit older and far more scholarly than the rest when he wrote this, so his targets were higher, as in the higher criticism. If he hadn’t done it, though, no doubt somebody else would have. It just all came together perfectly.

As far as I know, Knox never did another full piece of Sherlockiana. He wrote a pastiche and a couple of minor articles decades later. That whole field is almost entirely the work of one man, Christopher Morley. He was selected to write the intro for Doubleday’s standard American version of the stories, 1930’s The Complete Sherlock Holmes, which has never been out of print. It’s said that he received “the largest sum ever paid up to them by a publisher for an introduction.” The essay was reprinted in the Saturday Review of Literature, where he had a weekly column. He made the column a headquarters for Sherlockians. He’s the one who invented (out of whole cloth; it was his younger brother’s birthday) the convention that January 6 was Holmes’ birthday. And on January 6, 1934, the first meeting of the Baker Street irregulars was held. It was by invitation only. Morley apparently wanted to be king of a group of acolytes but the whole world wanted to join the club and he eventually got disillusioned as it institutionalized. It’s all documented in a thick volume of his writings, The Standard Doyle Company, edited by Steven Rothman.

Sherlockiana (or the British Holmesiana) went forever public with the Sherlock Holmes Exhibition of 1951, part of the British Festival of that year, and a follow-up in 1952. About a million articles were published in the British newspapers. The Sherlock Holmes Society, the long-dead British companion to the BSI, revived in 1951. If anything set off Holmes mania around the world, that was probably it.

“Mangani” was Burrough’s word for the Bili Ape Bili ape - Wikipedia Known by locals as “lion killers”.
:smiley:

That’s Hedley!

My favorite is that Holmes had to have been a Vulcan. Search for it. It’s pretty entertaining. (And perhaps would be fun in CS).

I’ll see if I can find a link during the edit window.

In ST VI, Spock does, if I recall aright, quote Holmes and attribute the saying to an ancestor of his mother’s. Which could mean either that Holmes is a historical figure in the Trekverse or that Amanda was descended from Conan Doyle.

In any fictional universe, given enough sequels, Sherlock Holmes will eventually turn out to be part of it. (Lord Peter Wimsey, Ellery Queen, Batman…)

Can you give me a reference where SH is referred to in the Lord Peter Wimsey universe? I thought I knew the books and stories pretty well but I can’t remember this.

Thanks

ps Sorry to dig up a 4 day old thread!

http://www.mythsoc.org/press/sayers.on.holmes/

That’s not canon, though. Sayers did mock Holmes or some of his conventions in some of her short stories as well, but I can’t remember if she referred to Holmes by name.

The Ellery Queen connection isn’t canon either. Queen did a novelization of the movie A Study in Terror in which he embedded a Holmes pastiche - the movie - in a frame with Queen reading the “discovered manuscript.” It appeared as a Lancer paperback original in 1966 and is probably the most obscure Queen title. The pastiche of Holmes was probably ghostwritten by Paul Fairman, for any Queen fans who may have wondered why that section is so weak.

Lord Peter’s reminiscence of meeting Holmes as a child (hiring the great man to find a lost kitten, which Holmes managed to do without leaving 221B) is written by Sayers. In fact, I believe it was the last story about Lord Peter she ever wrote, and it contradicts nothing canonical that I know of. Why shouldn’t it be canon?

Same thing for A Study in Terror. It’s more than a mere novelization, by the way; Queen comes to his own conclusions about Holmes having kept the Horrible Truth in the case from Watson.

I said that the radio script wasn’t canon. And it appears that the radio script is the same story you’re thinking of.

It’s not included in Lord Peter: The Complete Lord Peter Wimsey Stories.

I don’t know of any mystery author for whom radio scripts starring the character, even ones written by the author, are considered canon. Ellery Queen wrote dozens, possibly hundreds, of radio scripts about Ellery Queen. None are considered canon. Same with John Dickson Carr, who was furiously prolific during WWII working for radio. Dashiell Hammett wrote, or had his name put on, several screenplays and radio show adaptation of his characters. None of these are canon either.

As for Queen, I said myself that there’s a frame story. As such it is very short, with the bulk of the book being the Sherlock Holmes pastiche. Queen fans have always had a problem with whether the book should be included in canon. My feeling is that it should not. Nobody’s even bothered to reprint it since 1969.

Doyle himself wrote two plays starring Sherlock Holmes, The Speckled Band and The Crown Diamond, and neither is considered canon.

There are also two short pieces with Watson and Holmes, actual short stories, which are never considered canon. “The Field Bazaar” appeared in the student magazine of Edinburgh University in 1896. “How Watson Learned the Trick” appeared in the limited edition Book of the Queen’s Doll House Library in 1924 as a bound title so tiny it would fit in the Queen’s Doll House’s library along with a litany of other famous writers. Both are only a few hundred words, vignettes rather than full stories. They are outside the sacred 56.

There are gray areas, as with A Study in Terror, but for the most part anything not an official publication reprinted in a collection with other canonical pieces is not canon. And even there. The Case Book of Ellery Queen was printed in 1945 as a digest-sized paperback during the war. It has never been reprinted in any form. The five regular short stories that appear have all been reprinted separately elsewhere. The Three radio scripts have never been reprinted in a Queen book. Despite the association with the short stories they have never been considered canon.

Short stories court. Novels count. Movies do not. Radio show do not. Plays do not. Television shows do not. Stories written for jigsaw puzzles whose solution gives the answer to the mystery, something Queen did, do not. Ellery Queen’s Operation Murder You-Solve-It VCR Mystery Game does not. Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine detective boardgame Game does not. The stuff on the Ellery Queen calendar does not.

Print only.

Pedantry, pure pedantry, Exapno :wink:

Okay, as a lapsed jigsaw fanatic (having cats with no way to shut them out of the dining room, which has the only table suitable for working jigsaw puzzles, will do that) and Ellery Queen fan I this piqued my interest. Please tell me that this is something so rare and virtually unattainable so I won’t be tempted to waste time and money trying to find it.