#Adelbert Ames
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An interesting demonstration of how the human brain works.
But also something of a lesson regarding perception, and the unreliability of subjective perspective versus objective reality.
You can be extremely certain about how you perceive the world, your "lived experience," that which you "feel it in my heart." But that doesn't mean it's actually true. And it doesn't mean we have to endorse it, or ignore or outright deny objective reality.
That's a "you" thing, not a "we" thing.
#Adelbert Ames#Ames Window#perception#perspective#objective reality#lived experience#i feel it in my heart#subjective experience#The Curiosity Show#science#optical illusion#religion is a mental illness
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#History#Presidents#John F. Kennedy#JFK#President Kennedy#The Atlantic#Reconstruction#The Lost Cause#Confederacy#Adelbert Ames#Lucius Quintus Cincinnatus Lamar#Profiles In Courage#George Plimpton#Civil War#Blanche Ames#Confederate Mythology
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Reblog me and tell me who your favorite generals are and why
Mine are the Chamberlains, Ames, Hancock, Sherman, Grant, and Buford :)
#american civil war#american history#history#civil war#gettysburg#acw#thomas chamberlain#joshua chamberlain#ulysses s grant#william t sherman#john buford#winfield scott hancock#adelbert ames
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The archipelago of uplifted coral that is my mother’s homeland surfaced during the earth’s ancient cycles of glaciation. The early people came in sakmans, carried by wind and seas, guided by stars and clouds and bioluminescence, the fragrance of flowers, the flight paths of birds. Settlers lived and fished and farmed in this part of Oceania for thousands of years, but the naming history issues forth at the moment of subjugation. Islas de los Ladrones -- the Islands of Thieves -- they were called by the first Europeans who came. Then Islas de las Velas, the Islands of the Lateen Sails. Then the Mariana Islands, in honor of Spain’s queen regent. Before it was Guam, Guåhan was known, under Japanese rule, as Omiya Jima, the Great Shrine Island. [...] Elsewhere, settlements recall the body of the creation god Puntan: Tiyan, his flat stomach. Hagåtña, his blood. Toto, his resting back. Mongmong, his beating heart. [...]
These small islands have grown crowded with denotations, I try to tell a friend, except it comes out as detonations. [...]
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I am reading from a passage on CHamoru history and culture. Kåntan Chamorita is an ancestral form of call-and-response, a spontaneous sung dialogue. [...] Thumbing the texts, I brandish our histories: the brutality of Japanese rule; the architectural colonization that drove the CHamoru from los antiguos, their dwelling places in latte houses; the violation of natural resources brought about by American occupation.
She [mother] tsks, waves impatiently. Hekkua’. An expression that means at once “I don’t know” and “Forget it.” [...]
In 1917, the U.S. Navy banned the CHamoru language in the Mariana Islands. A few years later, by order of U.S. naval captain Adelbert Althouse, all CHamoru dictionaries were burned. The language was said to represent a cognitive deficiency. The adoption of English would ensure, among other things, mental well-being.
The ban has since been lifted, but my mother hid her language for so long, it’s become hard to find.
What is the word for sky? I ask her.
She shakes her head. Nothing word for sky. Only heaven: långet. [...]
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And so did we sail out. For more than ten years [...]. We moved into other countries where other languages had been suppressed and where other people had been made invisible. There were signs [...]. In New Zealand, where I went to kindergarten, Ma¯ori children were beaten for speaking te reo in schools. Bislama was prohibited in Vanuatu, but I only remember the quietness of the bay, the great banyan trees, the malaria pills. In New Caledonia, where I went to elementary school, the Kanak languages were banned from the education system from 1863 until 1984. Gendarmes in Nouméa stood on street corners with machine guns slung across their chests. [...]
My mother is telling us something exciting. She trips happily over the words, her face laughing. [...] My mother did not want me speaking like her. She wanted me to be better than that, which is to say better than her. [...]
Kao piniten hao? -- Have you been hurt?
Hunggan. Mayulang, yu’ -- Yes. I’m breaking.
My mother corrects me: mayulang only applies to a thing that’s broken, not a person. You can be hurt, she tells me, but not broken. [...]
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The etymology of translation refers to the removal of a saint’s body to a new location, to bearing bones and words, both sacred, across. As if anything can be moved whole [...].
We never heard the end of my mother’s stories. [...] These days, she is happy to let most of her sentences go unfinished. [...]
She raises her eyebrows, juts her chin.
I tell her, You’re a book of lost endings.
Which one? she asks.
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It’s too small here, I said. It’s boring, hot. It’s too small. [...] We spent two years sleeping on my auntie’s living room floor. Unrolling futons and lying under the weeping air conditioning unit and peeling paint. We ate Spam and rice with ketchup. [...]
Lately, I have been confusing the CHamoru word for flight, malagu, with the word for flee, falagu. [...]
I dream now of the islands and wake with my head barely above water, my mouth filling with salt. [...]
Mamaolek ha’? -- Are you doing okay?
Maolek. I’m doing okay.
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Text by: Hannah Dela Cruz Abrams. “Moving the Saints: Passages from a deconstructed homeland.” Orion Magazine. Spring 2023. [Some paragraph breaks and contractions added by me.]
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The Illustrious Client pt 3
Had a busy weekend, so I'm one behind again, but where were we?
A hypnotised woman, a man so evil he wants everyone to know about it and he keeps a special scrapbook of his favourite evil moments for him to read in bed at night when he can't sleep. My favourite character is probably not going to be in it again, seeing as she failed to convince the guy's latest victim that he's a murdering arsehole, but I really hope she gets to stamp his face in with her boot. Y'know. As a treat.
Oh, and then someone tried to kill Holmes. There was a cliffhanger. I almost forgot about that.
The Illustrious Client on whose behalf Sherlock Holmes was consulted was anxious to prevent the marriage of the young, rich and beautiful Miss Violet de Merville to Baron Gruner, an unscrupulous adventurer.
Given some of the descriptions Watson has given of perfectly nice clients, I feel like 'unscrupulous adventurer' is such a milquetoast way of putting this. And also rather offensive to adventurers.
“I'm a bit of a single-stick expert, as you know. I took most of them on my guard. It was the second man that was too much for me.”
See, this is why I don't get why everyone insists on Watson being the action man of the pair. Holmes is out there whacking people with sticks. Watson occasionally shoots a dog.
No, I'm never going to be over that.
"They'll come to you for news. Put it on thick, Watson. Lucky if I live the week out—concussion—delirium—what you like! You can't overdo it.”
This is a definite step up from The Dying Detective where Holmes was convinced that if Watson knew he wasn't dying, he'd never be able to convince anyone of it. Has Watson's acting got better or has Holmes just realised that pretending to be dying is a dick move? Something tells me it isn't the first option. I don't think it's the second, either, if I'm honest. I feel like Holmes needs Watson to do something. But still, not lying to your best friend about dying. So proud of you.
“Yes. Tell Shinwell Johnson to get that girl out of the way. Those beauties will be after her now."
If anything bad happens to Kitty, I riot.
He pushed to an extreme the axiom that the only safe plotter was he who plotted alone.
Even so, he's still doing way better than he used to. We're all very proud of him.
It was simply that among the passengers on the Cunard boat Ruritania, starting from Liverpool on Friday, was the Baron Adelbert Gruner, who had some important financial business to settle in the States before his impending wedding to Miss Violet de Merville...
Apparently it was almost a week to get to the States on a liner in those days, which is less time than I thought, but also quite a while to spend travelling (2 weeks, there and back) right before your wedding. The wedding is not that imminent, I guess.
"Now, Watson, I want you to do something for me.”
“I am here to be used, Holmes.”
“Well, then, spend the next twenty-four hours in an intensive study of Chinese pottery.”
He gave no explanations and I asked for none. By long experience I had learned the wisdom of obedience.
On the one hand, this also shows growth, on the other, blindly following Holmes' instructions seems like a terrible idea in so. many. ways. But y'know, whatever floats their boats. Ours not to kink shame.
I was sucking in knowledge and committing names to memory. There I learned of the hall-marks of the great artist-decorators, of the mystery of cyclical dates, the marks of the Hung-wu and the beauties of the Yung-lo, the writings of Tang-ying, and the glories of the primitive period of the Sung and the Yuan.
“It needs careful handling, Watson. This is the real egg-shell pottery of the Ming dynasty. No finer piece ever passed through Christie's. A complete set of this would be worth a king's ransom..."
Will the priceless historic china survive? That's the real question.
"You may as well be a medical man, since that is a part which you can play without duplicity. You are a collector, this set has come your way, you have heard of the Baron's interest in the subject, and you are not averse to selling at a price.”
OK. okayokayokayokayokay. No.
If this guy knows who Holmes is. Then he should, therefore, know who Watson is, too. We have even had, in this very story, evidence that supports that because the colonel (whose name I can't remember right now) was like 'yes, of course Dr Watson should be involved toodle pip." (I added the toodle pip part, but the rest was accurate enough.)
So surely the guy who arranged for Holmes to be murdered - who is apparently tracking down Kitty to murder her, too - surely he should know who Watson is. Therefore either this is a double bluff and Holmes is knowingly sending Watson into a danger that has already tried to claim his own life or he doesn't think that his opponent is smart enough to connect his enemy to their best friend who writes about them frequently and who has been visiting him daily since the attack.
If he turns out to be right and the baron doesn't recognise Watson immediately, I will be further annoyed at his incompetence.
On the same evening, with the precious saucer in my hand and the card of Dr. Hill Barton in my pocket, I set off on my own adventure.
Oh really? Like... an adventurer, would you say?
The place had been built by a South African gold king in the days of the great boom, and the long, low house with the turrets at the corners, though an architectural nightmare, was imposing in its size and solidity.
Glad to see Watson turning his scathing judgements to architecture as well as people. It was... it was a very solid building. It had that going for it.
He was certainly a remarkably handsome man. His European reputation for beauty was fully deserved. In figure he was not more than of middle size, but was built upon graceful and active lines. His face was swarthy, almost Oriental, with large, dark, languorous eyes which might easily hold an irresistible fascination for women. His hair and moustache were raven black, the latter short, pointed, and carefully waxed. His features were regular and pleasing, save only his straight, thin-lipped mouth. If ever I saw a murderer's mouth it was there—a cruel, hard gash in the face, compressed, inexorable, and terrible. He was ill-advised to train his moustache away from it, for it was Nature's danger-signal, set as a warning to his victims.
Oh my god. Watson. Watson. Quite being so horny on main. I am begging you. Stop ogling the man. And he can't help the way his moustache is away from his mouth - it's all the twirling.
"I would ask you what do you know of the Emperor Shomu and how do you associate him with the Shoso-in near Nara? Dear me, does that puzzle you? Tell me a little about the Northern Wei dynasty and its place in the history of ceramics.”
I sprang from my chair in simulated anger.
Watson. Watson. My dude. My man. My good sir. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK was the point of you learning everything there is to know about Chinese pottery if you're not even going to bother to answer his motherfucking questions? What even is this? What was the point? WHY?
I mean, I'm pretty sure he knew who you were from the moment you sent the letter but even so. Even so! I can't get annoyed about him not committing to the bit when you're out here not even trying to commit to any of it.
Two steps took me to the open door, and my mind will ever carry a clear picture of the scene within. The window leading out to the garden was wide open. Beside it, looking like some terrible ghost, his head girt with bloody bandages, his face drawn and white, stood Sherlock Holmes.
Well, I was right. It was a double bluff. Watson was the distraction, cool cool. He was rubbish at it, but at least Holmes knew he was going to fail.
An arm—a woman's arm—shot out from among the leaves. At the same instant the Baron uttered a horrible cry—a yell which will always ring in my memory. He clapped his two hands to his face and rushed round the room, beating his head horribly against the walls. Then he fell upon the carpet, rolling and writhing, while scream after scream resounded through the house.
The features which I had admired a few minutes before were now like some beautiful painting over which the artist has passed a wet and foul sponge.
So that's why you went on about how hot he was. For the contrast. Gotcha.
Obviously this is terrible and throwing acid in people's faces is awful and horrible etc.
On the other hand, I support Kitty Winter and she's never done anything wrong ever in her life.
"It was that hell-cat, Kitty Winter!”
“It is his love diary?”
You say that like it's a normal thing.
???
"I knew I had only a few minutes in which to act, for my time was limited by your knowledge of Chinese pottery."
Holmes' perennial lack of faith in Watson's abilities is as sad as it is earned.
But he didn't even use his knowledge of Chinese pottery. He didn't even try.
“But if these injuries are as terrible as Dr. Watson describes, then surely our purpose of thwarting the marriage is sufficiently gained without the use of this horrible book.”
Wow, you think very little of Violet. I also think very little of her, but honestly, I'm pretty sure this isn't a deal breaker for her. Just say you think she's shallow and fickle, why don't you?
The same paper had the first police-court hearing of the proceedings against Miss Kitty Winter on the grave charge of vitriol-throwing. Such extenuating circumstances came out in the trial that the sentence, as will be remembered, was the lowest that was possible for such an offence.
Good for her.
...when an object is good and a client is sufficiently illustrious, even the rigid British law becomes human and elastic.
YAY! CORRUPTION!!
🥳🥳🥳
What a weird note to end it on. But the day was saved, I guess. Weirdly as it was. Violet de Merville presumably went on to continue to be a supercilious nightmare of a woman and Baron Adelbert Gruner was punished with *checks notes* disfigurement and blindness... so I guess that's a happy ending?
idek.
I'm glad Kitty got to fuck him up, though. That was very satisfying.
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“If I can help to put him where he belongs, I'm yours to the rattle,” said our visitor with fierce energy. There was an intensity of hatred in her white, set face and her blazing eyes such as woman seldom and man never can attain. “You needn't go into my past, Mr. Holmes. That's neither here nor there. But what I am Adelbert Gruner made me. If I could pull him down!” She clutched frantically with her hands into the air. “Oh, if I could only pull him into the pit where he has pushed so many!”
Oh I LOVE this woman. GIVE HIM HELL. TEAR HIM TO PIECES.
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op was very obviously and openly a fascist so here's this cool video again without their weird bigoted rant added onto it lol
[ID: twitter screenshot of a tweet by user rainmaker1973. text reads: "In 1951, Adelbert Ames created the mind-boggling 'Ames Window'. It's so effective that even when you know how it works you can't break the illusion." Credit is given in text: "video from The Curiosity Show." with a hyperlink following it.
end ID]
#videos#optical illusion#ames window#science#psychology#pippen needs 2nd breakfast#I'll reblog with a transcription in a little bit!#i dont know how to do video descriptions so if anyone wants to do that pls do!!#image described
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An Ames room is an optical illusion that makes people or objects appear to change size when they move across the room. It is a distorted room that looks like a normal rectangular room from a certain viewpoint, but is actually trapezoidal and slanted. It was invented by American scientist Adelbert Ames Jr. in 1946, based on the idea of German scientist Hermann von Helmholtz.
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He has breeding in him—a real aristocrat of crime, with a superficial suggestion of afternoon tea and all the cruelty of the grave behind it. Yes, I am glad to have had my attention called to Baron Adelbert Gruner.”
Holmes, I have little idea what all that means but it sure sounds like an interesting villain
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In 1951, Adelbert Ames Created The Mind-Boggling 'Ames Window'
Can you always trust what your brain is portraying as reality?
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Si chiama Ames Room ed è stata inventata dall'oftalmologo americano Adelbert Ames Jr. nel 1946.
Il segreto della straordinaria stanza di Ames sta in una certa disposizione delle sue pareti. Quindi, il lato più lontano dallo spettatore è ad angolo acuto da un lato e ad angolo ottuso dall'altro.
Pertanto, si ottengono illusioni ottiche che una persona che cammina per la stanza aumenti o diminuisca di dimensioni.
#VideoCuriosità
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Still thinking about Meteor. What if his companions never made it out of the lifestream alive? What if Meteor had companions just like Ardbert's but he lost them to the lifestream and doesnt even remember. what if he's called meteor because project meteor is all he can remember from before the calamity
Also like the linguistists and philology nerd i am i went and looked up the etymology or Ardbert. Its from proto western germanic from noble and bright.
If you didnt know midlander naming is a mess and i frequently complain about it. Anyways as far as i can tell from a glance at a list of names hume names on the first lie in between the spectrum of midlander and highlander names. (In real world terms highlander names are older forms of midlander names... Sometimes because the devs cant just be consistent with these things)
Btw let me know if there are any other equivalent npcs between the source and the first.
This would have been horrible to implement but imagine if ardbert had you're wol's appearance the same way ghost fray and azem(?) didWhere was i ah yes so i went and looked up some other derivatives of Aþalberht. Albert. Elbert. Adelbert. Ethelbert. Imagine if Meteor's real name was the equivalent to Ardbert's just in another language. (Btw the french version is Aubert, Adalberto in the other romance languages)
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Tbh John Buford and Adelbert Ames are underappreciated and we should talk about them more!
And on that note does anyone have book recs about either of them 🙏
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19th October
In The Illustrious Client, there is no clearly defined 'crime’ technically, it’s more about Baron Gruner coercing Violet de Merville (I think she’s the fourth Violet in the canon) to marry him. This is how the client describes Gruner:
“The fellow is, as you may have heard, extraordinarily handsome, with a most fascinating manner, a gentle voice, and that air of romance and mystery which means so much to a woman. He is said to have the whole sex at his mercy and to have made ample use of the fact.”
Don’t let this fool you, he’s not the next tumblr sexyman since he was quite literally accused of killing his old wife and managed to get away with it.
Gruner was already on Sherlock’s radar, and he knew about his background before the client explained. The client wanted to convince Violet not to marry Gruner, so she wouldn’t be in danger, but that didn’t work and so Sherlock was called in. To get an idea of this guy, he is compared to the likes of Moriarty and Sebastian Moran.
“We are dealing on this occasion, Mr. Holmes, with a man to whom violence is familiar and who will, literally, stick at nothing. I should say that there is no more dangerous man in Europe.” “I have had several opponents to whom that flattering term has been applied,” said Holmes with a smile... “If your man is more dangerous than the late Professor Moriarty, or than the living Colonel Sebastian Moran, then he is indeed worth meeting.”
At the same time, Gruner is also described as being a man of intellectual hobbies, so it’s difficult to understand what his character is.
“He has expensive tastes. He is a horse fancier. For a short time he played polo at Hurlingham, but then this Prague affair [when he murdered his wife] got noised about and he had to leave. He collects books and pictures. He is a man with a considerable artistic side to his nature. He is, I believe, a recognized authority upon Chinese pottery and has written a book upon the subject.”
Violet refuses to listen to anyone’s advice and is practically entranced by Gruner. I don’t know what magic powers this man has, because he told her about his past and she still wanted to be with him, but Sherlock believes he’s managed to brainwash Violet. Maybe Violet has a thing for Chinese pottery.
Sherlock visits Gruner, to try to convince him to break off the engagement, but it’s almost like Sherlock fell under the spell as well.
[Sherlock] “He is an excellent antagonist, cool as ice, silky voiced and soothing as one of your fashionable consultants, and poisonous as a cobra. He has breeding in him–a real aristocrat of crime, with a superficial suggestion of afternoon tea and all the cruelty of the grave behind it. Yes, I am glad to have had my attention called to Baron Adelbert Gruner.” [Watson] “You say he was affable?” “A purring cat who thinks he sees prospective mice. Some people’s affability is more deadly than the violence of coarser souls.
Side note: Sherlock tends to talk this way about most of his opponents who, although he doesn’t like them, he still feels impressed by them.
Unfortunately, he gets nowhere.
‘I [Gruner] rather thought I should see you sooner or later, Mr. Holmes...My dear man,’ said he, ‘you will only ruin your own well-deserved reputation. It is not a case in which you can possibly succeed. You will have barren work, to say nothing of incurring some danger. Let me very strongly advise you to draw off at once.’ “ ‘It is curious,’ I answered, ‘but that was the very advice which I had intended to give you. I have a respect for your brains, Baron, and the little which I have seen of your personality has not lessened it. Let me put it to you as man to man... It would not be pleasant for you if these facts of your past were brought to her notice.’ “The Baron has little waxed tips of hair under his nose, like the short antennae of an insect. These quivered with amusement as he listened, and he finally broke into a gentle chuckle. “ ‘Excuse my amusement, Mr. Holmes,’ said he, ‘but it is really funny to see you trying to play a hand with no cards in it. I don’t think anyone could do it better, but it is rather pathetic, all the same. Not a colour card there, Mr. Holmes, nothing but the smallest of the small.’ “ ‘So you think.’ “ ‘So I know. Let me make the thing clear to you, for my own hand is so strong that I can afford to show it. I have been fortunate enough to win the entire affection of this lady... You have heard of post-hypnotic suggestion, Mr. Holmes? Well, you will see how it works, for a man of personality can use hypnotism without any vulgar passes or tomfoolery. So she is ready for you and, I have no doubt, would give you an appointment... “ ‘By the way, Mr. Holmes,’ said he, ‘did you know Le Brun, the French agent?’ “ ‘Yes,’ said I. “ ‘Do you know what befell him?’ “ ‘I heard that he was beaten by some Apaches in the Montmartre district and crippled for life.’ “ ‘Quite true, Mr. Holmes. By a curious coincidence he had been inquiring into my affairs only a week before. Don’t do it, Mr. Holmes; it’s not a lucky thing to do. Several have found that out. My last word to you is, go your own way and let me go mine.’
It was difficult to cut that down so I’m not posting massive extracts from the book, but Baron Gruner and Sherlock’s meeting was full of good dialogue that really emphasise how uncomfortable Gruner makes people. What is most scary about him is that there are real men like him who can gaslight women in to turning against their entire families and then hurting them. For a book written in the 19th century, it’s surprisingly revealing and isn’t at all like how Gruner could have been romantacised in other novels.
Kitty Winters is another woman whom Gruner took advantage of, and she tells Sherlock about one of his books.
“It’s a book he has–a brown leather book with a lock, and his arms in gold on the outside. I think he was a bit drunk that night, or he would not have shown it to me.” “What was it, then?” “I tell you, Mr. Holmes, this man collects women, and takes a pride in his collection, as some men collect moths or butterflies. He had it all in that book. Snapshot photographs, names, details, everything about them. It was a beastly book–a book no man, even if he had come from the gutter, could have put together. But it was Adelbert Gruner’s book all the same. ‘Souls I have ruined.’”
Gruner literally hunted women for sport and then documented it, like their lives were just trophies.
Watson later meets Gruner, and we get yet another lengthy description about how good-looking he is: even Watson can’t help himself.
“He was certainly a remarkably handsome man. His European reputation for beauty was fully deserved. In figure he was not more than of middle size, but was built upon graceful and active lines. His face was swarthy, almost Oriental, with large, dark, languorous eyes which might easily hold an irresistible fascination for women. His hair and moustache were raven black, the latter short, pointed, and carefully waxed. His features were regular and pleasing, save only his straight, thin-lipped mouth. If ever I saw a murderer’s mouth it was there–a cruel, hard gash in the face, compressed, inexorable, and terrible. He was ill-advised to train his moustache away from it, for it was Nature’s danger-signal, set as a warning to his victims. His voice was engaging and his manners perfect. In age I should have put him at little over thirty, though his record afterwards showed that he was forty-two. “
But, this is all just a facade, as the end of the description says.
Hate Gruner yet? Lucky enough for you, Kitty Winters gets revenge and throws acid in his face! His face basically melts off, and I’m not sure if he survives, but at least it’s the end to him hunting and destroying lives.
#this post is ten percent me writing#and ninety percent quotes#anyway kitty winters is amazing#baron gruner#the illustrious client#ACD#acd books#acd canon#Sherlock Holmes#sherlockholmes
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The Illustrious Client pt 2
Last time we were dealing with a hypnotist, it seemed, who was doing everything short of tying women to railway tracks and twirling his moustaches to show Holmes how evil he is.
Honestly, it's probably a little surprising that it's taken this long for hypnotism to show up in these stories, as it seems right up ACD's alley
And we're about to meet an old friend of Holmes' who has simply never come up before.
...a huge, coarse, red-faced, scorbutic man, with a pair of vivid black eyes which were the only external sign of the very cunning mind within.
"Scorbutic" apparently means affected by scurvy, which I had never come across before. Does that mean his gums are bleeding? The NHS tells me it might also mean red or blue spots on the skin.
Mr Johnson, may I introduce you to the joys of... fruit and veg.
Please stop your gums from bleeding. Please.
...a slim, flame-like young woman with a pale, intense face, youthful, and yet so worn with sin and sorrow that one read the terrible years which had left their leprous mark upon her.
From scurvy to leprosy, once again being particularly flattering in your descriptions, Watson. Though I do love the 'flame-like' here. That's very evocative.
“Hell, London, gets me every time. Same address for Porky Shinwell. We're old mates, Porky, you and I. But, by cripes! there is another who ought to be down in a lower hell than we if there was any justice in the world!"
I like Kitty. I hope she doesn't die. She feels like a parody of a Victorian cockney character. It's beautiful.
There was an intensity of hatred in her white, set face and her blazing eyes such as woman seldom and man never can attain.
I guess women are just better at hating things?
Does it though? Idek, such a weird thing to divide by gender.
"He would speak of someone in his velvet way and then look at me with a steady eye and say: ‘He died within a month.’"
This guy really needs to stop telling people about the crimes he's committed. I get that you're an arrogant dickhead, but surely there must be some room for brains in your head beside all that hubris. Maybe think before you speak? And don't just think 'oh how awesome and evil I am tee hee hee'.
I'm sorry, I just get annoyed when I see bad guys making such obvious, preventable mistakes. At least be good at being evil, if you're going to do it. Do it properly.
"It's a book he has—a brown leather book with a lock, and his arms in gold on the outside. I think he was a bit drunk that night, or he would not have shown it to me.”
Oh for- Do you write it all down? Tell me you don't have a very secret evil diary of all your very secret evil deeds. Please... Please don't be that guy.
I get that this is realistic, because serial killers and horrible people do take trophies. But still...
Also, Adelbert is a name I've heard of before but never actually seen used.
“No good,” said Shinwell Johnson with the decided voice of the expert. “No fence wants stuff of that sort that you can neither melt nor sell.”
Shinwell Johnson here reminding us not only that he exists and that he is a criminal, but also possibly the most competent criminal in this story. Good for him.
“I am not out for money. Let me see this man in the mud, and I've got all I've worked for—in the mud with my foot on his cursed face. That's my price."
Vengeance!!!
Yes. I like Kitty a lot.
"If your head is inclined to swell, my dear Watson, take a course of Miss Violet de Merville."
S-tier line. This is just perfection. I love it.
"I pictured to her the awful position of the woman who only wakes to a man's character after she is his wife—a woman who has to submit to be caressed by bloody hands and lecherous lips. I spared her nothing—the shame, the fear, the agony, the hopelessness of it all."
Holmes going hard. I feel disgusted and I'm just getting the description of the description. This story has a lot of excellent turns of phrase in it. This section is particularly repellent.
"'...you needn't look at me like that, my fine lady, for you may be lower than I am before you are through with it.’"
Kitty is the best and I want her to be in every story from now on. You tell her. Go for the throat. I know it's not going to work, but yes!
"And it did. Their blow fell—or his blow rather, for never could I believe that the lady was privy to it."
So women are capable of more hatred than men, but they aren't capable of things like this. You have a very confused and tangled view of gender, Watson. Who hurt you?
But they eloped, didn't they? But then she'd definitely be privy to that.
"There, black upon yellow, was the terrible news-sheet:
Murderous Attack
Upon
Sherlock Holmes"
Well, I suppose in a way that's better... because clearly he's not dead. And also that means that Holmes will have some sort of evidence against him.
Adelbert really needs to learn not to overplay his hand. If you're so sure that nothing can go wrong, just... wait it out. She'll marry you and everything will be fine. Patience.
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