That's Books and Entertainment: Holiday Shorts

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A critical analysis of criticisms of Harry Potter

The Harry Potter series of books are either imbued with misogyny, racism and is written to promote the hegemony. Or it is a book steeped with antisexism, antiracism and is designed to bring down the hegemony, or at least aim a strong light at it.

The book cannot be all of those things at the same time. And whilst people are entitled to their own opinions, they must be able to support those opinions with good, cogent arguments.

Why could the book engender such radically different critical viewpoints?

One possible answer for this apparent dichotomy of opinions is ‘conformation bias.’

What is confirmation bias? In an article in Psychology Today Shahram Heshmat Ph.D. employs a thought experiment, which we can also employ. He asked readers to imagine themselves in a situation where they have attempted to reach a friend (a friend who they have an ambivalent relationship with) by phone and email, plus leaving messages, but they have failed to even acknowledge any of the messages or calls. 

In this type of situation, points out Heshmat, it is easy to fall into the trap of jumping to conclusions, by incorrectly using powers of reasoning, deduction and intuition to conclude that your friend is deliberately avoiding you.

There is a risk, notes Heshmat, that under these types of circumstances, you might start to react to this perceived slight as if it were factual, which may not be true.

Heshmat expands on his point by positing that confirmation bias occurs from “the direct influence of desire on beliefs.” Or to put it another way, when a person wishes that a belief or a concept is truthful, then the result is that they believe it to be true. The motivation, he feels, is their own wishful thinking.

This is problematic as it can result in the individual ceasing to gather further information on a topic when the evidence they collected so far confirms their prejudices or viewpoints.

This can result in someone embracing evidence that confirms their standpoint whilst ignoring or rejecting any evidence to the contrary.

Once we have formed a view, we embrace information that confirms that view, while ignoring, or rejecting, information that casts doubt on it.

Or as Heshmsat succinctly puts it: “Confirmation bias suggests that we don’t perceive circumstances objectively. We pick out those bits of data that make us feel good because they confirm our prejudices. Thus, we may become prisoners of our assumptions.”

The first text I am analysing is J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter Novels, A Reader’s Guide written by Philip Nel.

The book is short, under 100 pages, but is very informative and makes interesting observations about the novels, about J. K. Rowling and about the motivations of J. K. Rowling for writing the novels and why she included certain features within the books.

The book is speculative in parts because it was written before the end of the series of Harry Potter novels, being published in 2001, whilst the last Harry Potter novel, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, was not published until 2007. However, it must be noted that the speculations of Nel with regards to the future novels in the series were, on the whole, quite accurate.

The book is broken down into five distinct sections. The Novelist, The Novels, Reviews of the Novels, The Performance of the Novels and Further Reading and Discussion Questions.

There are also a further two sections notes of the author and works cited within Nel’s work.

The first section covers the childhood of Rowling, how her parents love of reading had a deep and abiding influence on their daughter, and how Rowling’s love of telling stories was evident from a very early age, when at age six she was inventing stories and telling them to her younger sister Diane.

The book points out that even at the age of six after she wrote down one of these stories which was called Rabbit and featured characters like a friend of Rabbit’s who was a gigantic bee called Miss Bee, that Rowling wanted the book to be published.

The book also looks at how the friendship of Rowling and the neighbouring Potter family influenced her as she was growing up.

It is interesting to note that, according to Nel, the Rowling children (Jo and Di) used to play witches and wizard games with the Potter children Vickie and Ian. It is the belief of Vickie Potter that this had some influence on the fact that Rowling decided on the name Potter for the wizard hero of her series of books.

Nel explores the links between Rowling’s school days and that of Harry’s school, Hogwarts. One female teacher was used as the basis for Severus Snape, and another for Professor McGonagall, for example.

Nel explores the early literary influences on Rowling, citing authors such as Paul Gallico, Elizabeth Goudge, C. S. Lewis, E. Nesbit and Noel Streatfeild. Although later influence on Rowling also include Jane Austen.

Children who Rowling attended school with were included in her Harry Potter Novels, according to Nel. Including her best friend Sean Harris who was an inspiration for Ron Weasley.

Is there something of J.K. Rowling in Hermione Granger? Yes, though modestly Rowling claims she was nowhere near as clever as Hermione!

Nel indicates Rowling is a lover of witticisms and puns, play on word, satire and parody, which she employs in her novels with some skill.

For example, the familial residence of Sirius Black and his antecedents is Number 12 Grimmauld Place, a punning play on words.

Nel also shows Rowling’s use of humour and puzzles extends to mathematics and that the book is full of prime number references and jokes.

Nel also references the fact that Rowling’s magicians are 18^th or early 19^th century in the way  they communicate by letter (never email!) though his cousin Dudley does have what other boys of the 1990s had, TV, computer, PlayStation, etc.

Nel believes the books show the hallmarks of having been written by a social activist. It depicts contemporary British society viewed through the lens of magic, touching on the hegemony, corruption, class struggles, racism, slavery and exploitation. 

Rowling spent some time working for Amnesty International researching human rights abuses in Francophone Africa. Nel muses this might be the basis for the gentle parody in Hermione’s Society for the promotion of Elfish Welfare or SPEW.  Was this a satire on the youthful political activism of Rowling? Nel believes so.

Although not a hagiography, Nel’s book is a short, though complete look at the Harry Potter phenomena which opens the reader to exploring this subject in more depth by way of the Further Reading and Discussion Questions section, the authors’ notes and the Works Cited section.

The second book I am examining is Harry Potter’s World, Multidisciplinary Critical Perspectives edited by Elizabeth E. Heilman.

The book is as the title implies, a multidisciplinary examination of the Harry Potter novels.

Whilst the book’s approach is interesting, it must be pointed out that there appears to be problems with the critical analyses of several of the authors. Whilst some of the authors seem to grasp the Harry Potter phenomena, others do not.

Hollie Anderson author of the chapter: “Reading Harry Potter with Navajo Eyes” is a special example of this depth of understanding because of her membership of the Navajo race. Not only is this because the Navajo people understand and appreciate the use of magic, Navajo people, as Anderson indicates, understand the concept of being sent away to boarding school, something the vast majority of American readers of Harry Potter would have no concept of.

Anderson also indicates she has a sympathetic reading of the struggles of wizards from Muggle families such as Hermione, because wizards and witches from Muggle families are often looked down on by some Pureblood wizarding families.

Anderson also shows sympathy for trainee wizards like Neville Longbottom who, she indicates, is a member of a pureblood wizarding family yet who seems to have considerable difficulties in safely employing his wizarding abilities.

Unfortunately the weakest chapter in the book is that by Elizabeth E. Heilman herself, Blue Wizards and Pink Wizards.

Heilman takes issue with some of the character names that Rowling chose. Heilman states (page 234) that: “Neville sounds like snivel.”

One could presume that Neville Cardus, Neville Chamberlain and Neville "Noddy" Holder of Slade (amongst other famous Nevilles) might raise objections to this characterisation of a perfectly ordinary British name as “sounding like snivel!”

Neville Longbottom is, one might argue, a quintessentially British name and that this suits the character of Neville Longbottom because he is a quintessentially British character. Clumsy, prone to get things wrong but always there to back the right side when it came down to it.

It can be argued that the name Neville Longbottom was chosen also because it is one of those old British names that sounds slightly amusing (Longbottom, Winterbottom, etc) and not because it has an (imagined) similarity to snivel.

It might be significant that Neville is one of the least popular boys’ names with only 1,081 people bearing the name in the entire USA, with the percentage frequency being .4%.

There is a great deal of humour in the Harry Potter books, but it is mainly gentle sarcasm and parody. Perhaps the British humour of Rowling did not translate well to American academics?

The books seem to be a parody of the British novels for children read by children who grew up to be of the generation that Rowling is a part of.

The vast majority of children who read and enjoyed books about children at boarding school were not, generally, children who attended boarding school or, indeed, knew anyone who attended boarding school. These would include The Chalet School series of novels for girls and the Jennings series of books for boys.

Heilman is critical of the portrayal of girls and boys, taking issue with the depiction that girls giggle and gossip and tend to cry sometimes and that boys will, at least, make the attempt at appearing to be manly.

From my memory this was the reality of existence when I was a teenager growing up in a semi-rural English community much like Rowling had grown up in; the girls did tend to giggle and gossip, we boys did make the attempt to appear to be manly. Or as well as we could manage!

I can’t help but wonder if some of the ‘problems’ that American academics like Heilman have perceived within the Harry Potter novels might be that the books were written by a British woman for her pleasure and aimed at being read by other British people for their pleasure? All of whom share at least some parts of a common British heritage.

In pretty much the same way that Americans all have parts of a common American heritage. For example American children of all races, creeds and ages would understand a children’s book that featured the Superbowl or made copious references to the World Series.  But most British children wouldn’t have a clue what this was referencing.

There is a further problem with Heilman’s analysis. Rowling has imagined a world that is, like the world we live in, an imperfect society with injustice and evil with attempts to mitigate the effects of injustice and evil.

Rowling’s novels in the Harry Potter series reports on these imperfections and how the characters within them attempt to correct the injustices and to defeat evil.

Heilman in her analysis of the novels seems to form the view that Rowling actually believes that the injustices and imperfections she has depicted are acceptable, which is a logical leap that would be akin to a reviewer believing that because Agatha Christie wrote about murders that she somehow thought murder was acceptable.

One can’t help but wonder if some critics of Rowling and her Harry Potter novels have committed the error of viewing them through the lens of their own cultural hegemony?

References:-

Nel, P., 2001. J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter Novels. 1st ed. New York: Continuum.

Heilman, E., 2003. Harry Potter's World. 1st ed. New York: RoutledgeFalmer.

Shahram Heshmat Ph.D.. 2015. Psychology Today. [ONLINE] Available at: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/science-choice/201504/what-is-confirmation-bias. [Accessed 14 May 2018].

https://names.mongabay.com/male_names9.htm. 2006. Uncommon guy names in the United States. [ONLINE] Available at: https://names.mongabay.com/male_names9.htm. [Accessed 11 May 2018].

It used to be different

Yes, it used to be different back in the old days. Well, actually, back in the not so old days too, for that matter.

In Britain even in the 1960s and 1970s, perhaps even into the 1980s, things were done in a certain way.

For example even families who did not attend church would insist that their children would wear their Sunday best clothing and they were generally not allowed to play out on a Sunday, so the streets of suburbia were, in general, fairly quiet.

To paraphrase the old Victorian aphorism “Children should not be seen (out on the streets) and they should not be heard, anywhere.

Every Sunday most families enjoyed (or endured, take your pick!) a traditional Sunday dinner which often took place mid-afternoon.

The meal (roast potatoes, vegetables, Yorkshire pudding and a meat, beef, lamb or pork, or chicken for those who couldn’t afford a more expensive cut of meat) was prepared to the strains of BBC Comedy programmes on the wireless (Beyond Our Ken, Round the Horne, The Navy Lark, The Clitheroe Kid and the like.

And eaten –with everyone round the dining table- to the programme designed to keep those at home in touch with far-flung outposts of the British Empire (sorry! Commonwealth!) on Two-Way Family Favourites, with links designed to keep British overseas military personal in touch with those back home in the United Kingdom.

Afterwards the family might watch some television –though some families eschewed watching television on a Sunday- or playing board games.

There was also something that occurred every November that doesn’t happen today. Nobody, anywhere, would have a Bonfire Night party on Sunday November 5th. Such a thing would have been anathema to the neighbours and would have resulted in social ostracisation for the family.

Instead, anyone hosting a Bonfire Night party would stage it on Saturday 4th of November instead. I cannot recall when this ceased to be the norm, but the change to having Bonfire night parties on Sunday November 5th seemed to be a rather rapid change.

And the Sunday Trading Act made sure that there was very little shopping on a Sunday.

The result was that Sundays in Britain were remarkably quiet and fairly peaceable affairs.

But now, children no longer wear their Sunday best on a Sunday, they play out, Sunday dinner is now eaten on the laps in front of the telly, Sunday Trading laws means that Sunday is now, pretty much, just like any other day of the week.

It’s different, but is it better? Probably not.

The changes in the media environment and its impact on contemporary British society

The changes in the media environment and its impact on contemporary British society

In this context I am considering contemporary British society to mean the last two decades.

I will touch on some key areas where the media environment has changed the gathering and dissemination of real time news.

The changes in journalism and news media have been bewildering for many people both within the media industry itself and for their consumers, with 24 hour news, the rise of citizen journalists, the advent of a variety of social media channels, etc.

Initially, I take as a case study some remarks made by veteran broadcaster and news journalist Jon Snow in his recent MacTaggart lecture.

During his recent MacTaggart lecture Jon Snow argued: “the media lacked diversity and are far removed from ordinary people.”( https://goo.gl/4zmRGH)

The Guardian reported: “The Channel 4 news presenter used a keynote speech at the Edinburgh television festival to say the episode made him conclude that there was a lack of diversity across the media, which should have been more aware about the dangers of the high-rise block.

The Grenfell episode demonstrated, Snow said, that the media was “comfortably with the elite, with little awareness, contact or connection with those not of the elite” and that the fire had shown this lack of connection was “dangerous”.

It seems that Snow failed to understand that to many ordinary British people the media is a major part of the elite. (Note: A point acknowledged by Richard Edelman in a recent address to the Davros group when he said: “People now view media as part of the elite,” quoted in the FT https://www.ft.com/content/fa332f58-d9bf-11e6-944b-e7eb37a6aa8e)

The Guardian article continued: “Media organisations reported after the fire a blog written by residents had warned that Grenfell Tower was susceptible to fire and complained the council was not taking action. When Snow visited the area around the tower in west London, in the immediate aftermath of the fire, he was surrounded by angry locals who complained no media had shown interest before.”

Arguably the discovery of these blogs happened because journalists engaged in research and a web search on the topic of “Grenfell Tower” and Grenfell Tower Fire” would have quite rapidly found links to those relevant blog posts.

It almost seemed that Jon Snow was blaming “the media” for the fact the Grenfell Tower fire was not covered before it occurred. If so, this might be a little disingenuous, one might suggest.

Snow also used the opportunity to launch an attack on social media channels like Facebook, which drew his particular ire.

He is quoted “as having: launched a fierce attack on Facebook in the lecture, warning that the rise of digital media “has filled neither the void left by the decimation of the local newspaper industry nor connected us any more effectively with ‘the left behind’, the disadvantaged, the excluded”.

Snow added: “Many news organisations, including my own, have asked too few questions about the apparent miracle of Facebook’s reach.

“For us at Channel 4 News it has been invaluable in helping us to deliver our remit – to reach young viewers, to innovate and to get attention for some of the world’s most important stories.”

It appears Snow acknowledges the media has abandoned vast swathes of the UK, with the loss of many local newspapers, the loss of local news broadcasts with some stations employing no journalists and relying on news feeds from national outlets.

He attacked Facebook (and by extension other social media channels, presumably?) for: “not filling either the void left by the decimation of the local newspaper industry nor connected us any more effectively with ‘the left behind’, the disadvantaged, the excluded”.

As if this were the fault of Facebook and of social media!

Snow apparently acknowledges media outlets rely on social media channels like Facebook, Twitter, Linkedin, Google, etc., as news sources, but then criticises those same news sources. Wanting to eat one’s cake and keep it?

Recent years saw the rise of the citizen journalist movement. This is a follow on from the alternative press era in the 1970s and 1980s when, with the advent of new reprographics technologies, publication of books, including self-publication by companies like the Book Guild and Matador Books, newsletters, fanzines and magazines became easier with people typesetting their own publications on home PCs and getting them printed at inexpensive copy shops that sprang up nationwide.

People now take their own publications to the next level. Citizen journalists can publish, in real time, news and reports of events (even using livesteam video on Facebook, Youtube, Twitter, etc) for people to see worldwide. This has had several impacts on the media.

A personal example happened when I worked as news editor for a monthly news magazine, the Wellington (Shropshire) News. Often I found a story which, by press day, was old hat.

But it was decided to launch an online version, this meant I could publish stories on the online version as soon as they came in.

This brought about changes in our part of the media environment because our news website was the only local news website publishing full, unabridged news stories, whereas the local evening newspaper’s website only carried the first paragraph of a story, enjoining those interested in reading the rest of the story to buy their print edition. 

As a result, despite being published by a small local publisher, against the evening paper which  was part of a large regional concern, our news website became the “go to” destination for many local people and we had many thousands of online readers. We stole a march on our rival and did so until they made a massive redesign of their website after several years and began publishing entire news stories.

Nationally, the media environment has been changed by the advent of print publications like Private Eye, a mixture of satire and real news. Real and embarrassing news, in many cases. News that was often spiked by cautious editors at mainsteam publications.

Political news, once the provenance of Parliamentary Lobby Correspondents, was gate-crashed with considerable vigour and style by the Guido Fawkes blog (www.order-order.com) published by Anglo-Indian-Irishman Paul Staines. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Staines)

The blog has been published for 14 years and has won several awards, often for the highly embarrassing political stories that it broke. (Including 2016 Vuelio Best Political Blog http://www.vuelio.com/uk/blog-awards/2016-winners)

In common with Private Eye (founded 1961) Guido Fawkes is often the recipient of tip offs, or complete news stories from journalists, often lobby correspondents from the Mainstream Media irritated their newspapers or broadcaster spiked a troublesome political story. 

Paul Staines has often reported one of the biggest consumers of the news from his website is from within the political establishment itself, with many hits from Westminster. (Confirmed by IPOS Mori https://www.ipsos.com/ipsos-mori/en-uk/communicating-mps-power-media)

In the USSR there was a lively, secretive, illegal Samizdat movement. The dictionary definition of Samizdat: “a clandestine publishing system within the Soviet Union, by which forbidden or unpublishable literature was reproduced and circulated privately.” www.dictionary.com. (For a detailed reference https://www.britannica.com/technology/samizdat)

It might be argued in the UK, with people writing blogs on various platforms and, to a lesser extent, Twitter, etc., we have a pseudo-Samizdat system, which can be viewed read, copied and forwarded to everyone with a Smartphone, laptop, or personal computer.

Theoretically almost everyone can launch a digital news outlet.

One result of such activities which is having a tremendous impact on contemporary British society is that the Internet rarely really forgets anything and now journalists can use search engines to find reports on blogs, Facebook pages and Twitter accounts that the authorities might wish not to be published. Like the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, previously warned about concerns about Grenfell Tower.

This means privacy isn’t what it was and people live in the glare of the lantern that is the Internet. (The Harvard Gazette makes some interesting points 

https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2017/08/when-it-comes-to-internet-privacy-be-very-afraid-analyst-suggests)

This has brought major changes in the relationship between the media and society. (PWC have published a paper https://www.pwc.co.uk/industries/entertainment-media/insights/mymedia/understanding-the-media-landscape.html) 

An example yet to be mirrored in the UK to any real extent is U.S. President Donald Trump. Trump has alleged much of what he says is distorted by the American media. So he has continued to use Twitter to communicate with 86 million followers and, as he sees it, ‘correct the media narrative’. (http://money.cnn.com/2017/06/17/technology/trump-social-media-followers/index.html)

The public no longer trust the media and are becoming cynical about it, born out in research by Edelman, publisher of the Edelman Trust Barometer.  (https://www.edelman.com/trust2017/)

“The implications of this accelerating scepticism are “deep and wide-ranging” said Mr Edelman, pointing to the election of Donald Trump, Britain’s vote to leave the EU, likening the decline in trust to “the second and third waves of a tsunami” after the financial crisis of 2008.” (Financial Times https://goo.gl/EQN3At)

Bibliography:-

Guardian (August 2017)

Guido Fawkes (Various dates)

Financial Times (January 2017)

CNN Money (July 2017)

Private Eye (Various)

IPOS Mori (2014)

PWC (2017)

Encyclopedia Britannica (2017

Wikipedia  (2017)

Harvard University (August 2017)

Vuelio

The case of the mathematically challenged professor.

Sherlock Holmes was reading The Times whilst I, his companion Dr Watson, was reading The Telegraph. 

Breakfast had been over for approximately an hour and Mrs Hudson had long ago cleared away the table, leaving us with our coffees.  At some point we intended to exchange newspapers.

We were two gentleman at leisure, enjoying the fact they both had nothing, in particular, to do.

That was until our landlady, Mrs Hudson, knocked on the door, opened it, stepping into the room. 

“Excuse me Mr Holmes, but there is a gentleman who wishes to see you, if, as he said, ‘you could spare him a moment of your time’?”

Holmes quickly folded his paper up and thrust it down the side of his chair. “Is he an interesting looking gentleman, Mrs Husdon?”

She nodded, a slight smile on her face. “Oh, yes, Sir. He is that! He gave me his calling card.”

Holmes accepted the proffered card and said: “Good Lord, Watson! We are being visited by no other luminary than Isambard Kingdom Brunel, the famed railway and civil engineer! Mrs Hudson, please ask our esteemed visitor to join us and offer him whatever refreshments he may wish to partake of!”

When our visitor was shown into the room, we greeted him, warmly. When he took off his top hat we were surprised by the extraordinary height of it, we quickly realised this was to provide the trompe l'oeil effect of making the owner of the hat appear taller than he was. His height, we adjudged, to be just a shade over 5 feet.

Both of us being urbane gentlemen of the modern era, the height of Victorian sensibilities, we dealt with his extraordinary shortness by the simple expediency of ignoring it.

“Mr Brunel, it’s a great honour to welcome such an illustrious engineer to my home. What service might we be able to render to you?”

“Mr Holmes, on behalf of the Great Western Railway I am constructing the Box Tunnel which will pass through Box Hill on the Great Western Main Line between Bath and Chippenham.

“The railway tunnel will be 1.83 miles long. It will be of straight construction and descends on a 1 in 100 gradient from its eastern end.

“The problem I face is Professor Dionysius Lardner. He is approaching the Parliamentary Hearings and he proposes to criticise my design for the tunnel. He will claim that, according to his calculations, should the brakes of a train fail in the tunnel, it would eventually accelerate to a speed in excess of 120 mph and cause the train to fly into pieces killing train crew and passengers.”

Holmes looked thoughtful. “I presume this is untrue, Mr Brunel?”

“As far as I am aware it is certainly untrue. However, Professor Lardner has created something of a reputation for himself as an expert on railway matters. I am wondering why he is making this claim?”

Holmes was thinking. “Is it possible a rival has employed Professor Lardner to attempt to disrupt your railway project?”

“That’s possible,” said Brunel. “But I can’t think of anyone who would do such a thing.”

“Do you have his mathematical workings, Mr Brunel?”

“Yes, Mr Holmes. I have a copy here for you.” He took some papers out of a leather bag of the type common to Victorian Doctors.

The papers were covered in mathematical calculations. “Can you understand these calculations, Mr Homes?” asked Brunel.

“I cannot, I am afraid. However, I do know a fellow who can understand them. I promise that I will quickly get to the bottom of this matter for you. How may I get in contact with you, Mr Brunel?”

“Whilst in London I stay at the Diogenes Club. Do you know it?”

Holmes smiled “Yes, indeed I do. It was co-founded by my brother Mycroft, so I am fully away of that club and I know where it is.”

After discussing terms of payment (which they swiftly agreed on) Brunel left, heading back to the club.

“Watson, what do you know of Professor Dionysius Lardner?”

“Let us look in our file of press cuttings and information files.”

I was swiftly able to locate the information that we required.

“Professor Dionysius Lardner FRS FRSE is an Irish born scientific writer who is something of a polymath genius, he popularises scientific matters for the general public and is the editor of the 133-volume Cabinet Cyclopædia.

“He has also published books on steam railways with James Renwick. The Steam Engine Explained and Illustrated: With an Account of Its Invention and Progressive Improvement, and Its Application to Navigation and Railways; Including Also a Memoir of Watt. Also, Popular Lectures on the Steam Engine, in which Its Construction and Operation are Familiarly Explained: With an Historical Sketch of Its Inventions and Progressive Improvement, with James Renwick.”

“So he is, or likes to appear to be seen as something of an expert on steam railways. If that is the case, why is he not working with Brunel? I shall have to raise this point with Mr Brunel this afternoon.”

“Holmes, how will you validate the mathematical calculations of Professor Lardner?”

“I shall approach the best mathematical mind of our generation. Another professor, Professor James Moriarty.”

“Moriarty?” I gasped. “Please be careful, Holmes!”

“Oh, you have no need to worry. As you will recall Moriarty is now safely ensconced at Her Majesty’s Pleasure, having been placed there by our good friend Lestrade.  I have nothing to fear from Moriarty.”

“Do you think he will help you, Holmes?”

“Oh, I am quite certain that he will. This will appeal to his vanity and also because I fully intend to sweeten the cake by offering to speak up for him at his sentencing. If he is willing to help me, that is.”

“What can I do, Holmes?” I asked.

“Watson, you can be of invaluable assistance by visiting the British Library for me today and undertaking some detailed research on Professor Lardner. I intend to speak with Brunel at his club to see what else I can glean from him on the gentleman in question.”

Certain aspects of the following are recreated from my conversations with Holmes.

Later that afternoon Holmes was enjoying a drink with Brunel at The Diogenes Club. “Please explain to me, Mr Brunel, why it is that Professor Lardner has no involvement with the Great Western Railway? After all, he has published several books on steam power, locomotives and railways and has accrued to himself a certain reputation for expertise in the field?”

Brunel shook his head. “But is it a deserved reputation, Mr Holmes? It is the opinion of many, and I find myself increasingly in that body of men, that the real work on those books was that of James Renwick, and that Professor Lardner merely added the icing to the cake, to coin a phrase, by adding his name to it and writing some non-technical passages in the book.”

“So you believe that his expertise is more apparent than genuine?”

Brunel nodded.

This gave Holmes food for thought.

That evening after our meal, we talked about our findings.

“So Professor Lardner is perhaps not as much of an expert as one might presume?” I enquired.

Holmes nodded. He said: “What did you learn for me at the British Library?”

“Holmes, in my research in the British Library I was able to confirm that Professor Dionysius Lardner is an Irish born scientific writer who is, as we established this morning, something of a polymath genius. Or he likes to portray himself as such, in any case.

“He writes on many different scientific and mechanical subjects and he popularises scientific matters for the general populace whilst also acting as editor for the Cabinet Cyclopædia.

“Professor Lardner is, or so it seems, always ready with a wide range of opinions on many scientific subjects and also some non-scientific subjects, too.”

“Thank you, Watson. Your research will, I feel certain, help us to establish exactly what game is afoot, at least concerning Professor Lardner.”

The next morning, with the assistance of a note written by his brother Mycroft, Holmes was granted an audience with Professor (or rather ex Professor) Moriarty.

“My dear Holmes” said Moriarty in an unctuous manner. “What brings me the dubious pleasure of your company?”

“The opportunity to offer assistance in a matter of the construction of a major railway project and the opportunity to have a letter to your sentencing judge pointing out how valuable your assistance was to this case.”

“Are you here to see Moriarty the Napoleon of crime? Or in another capacity?”

“I am here to see Professor James Moriarty one of, if not the, leading mathematical minds of our generation.”

“Then I shall accept your kind offer. In what way can I help you?”

Holmes swiftly outlined the problem and that Professor Lardner was going to present his findings to the Commission. He passed the papers to Moriarty.

Moriarty studied the calculations of Professor Lardner. He made clucking noises and shook his head. 

“Good Lord. So this is the work of the self-styled genius, the great Professor Dionysius Lardner?”

“You know of him?” asked Holmes.

“Yes, I do. In my line of work it pays to know a great deal about a large number of people. My informants have lead me to believe that Professor Dionysius Lardner, whilst not exactly a mountebank, is certainly not the genius that he likes to portray himself as.”

“Interesting” said Holmes. “How would you describe him?”

“Based on my informants I’d say that he is, to borrow a recently minted phrase from our American cousins, a bloviating braggart, a hack writer of articles of dubious value and of doubtful veracity.”

Holmes interrupted him. “Thank you for that potted biography of the man.  Have you had a chance to study his mathematical calculations, Professor Moriarty?”

“I have Holmes. And I have to say that, under some utterly unique circumstances his calculations would be valid. However, due to the fact that he omitted some crucial components in his mathematics, his calculations are utterly worthless.”   

“I had hoped that might be the case, my dear fellow. But mathematics is a foreign language to me, I am afraid. It is as if I can pick up the odd word or phrase here and there, but that’s really all. What did he omit?”

Professor Moriarty nodded. “He omitted two key components from his calculations. He failed to take into account the effect of the air in the tunnel causing wind resistance and he also failed to take into consideration the resistance of the metal train wheels on the metal railway lines.

“His calculations would only be valid if the train was travelling in a perfect vacuum and was travelling upon a surface that had zero resistance. Those are the two unique circumstances that I alluded to.

“Even with all our scientific advances, Holmes, we have yet to be able to achieve such wonders as those. One day, perhaps we might. But not at all in the immediate future.”

After chatting for a few more minutes, the two old adversaries parted, if not as friends, certainly with a deeper understanding one of the other.

Later that afternoon Homes rapidly write a letter to the sentencing judge as he had promised Moriarty he would. A member of the Baker Street Irregulars posted it in the post box in Baker Street.

I was absolutely astonished by what Holmes told me. “But that’s disgraceful, Holmes! Utterly indefensible that Lardner could risk damaging the work of Mr Brunel by using dubious and erroneous mathematical calculations,” I said, aghast.

“Oh, I agree,” said Homes.

I spoke thoughtfully to Holmes: “Do we have any ideas as to who might have employed Professor Lardner, Holmes?”   

Holmes poured us both a glass of single malt Scotch (a gift from a grateful client who was a Scots Laird) and splashed some water in the glasses before he spoke.

“I have concluded that Professor Lardner is not in the employment of anyone. I suspect that he was deeply unhappy about not obtaining a paid position as a consultant with the Great Western Railway and that he wished to try to damage the reputation of that company, but more so to sully the reputation of Brunel.”

I said, somewhat dubiously, “Do you think he deliberately omitted those parts of his calculations?”

“Having spoken further with Moriarty, I have concluded that he did not leave those components out of his calculations on purpose. In fact Moriarty was able to show to my satisfaction how and why Lardner made the mistakes that he made. His calculations were sloppy and, because they appeared to prove that Brunel was wrong, he failed to double check his arithmetic.

“There was no mysterious paymaster behind him, urging him to prove that Brunel was wrong. I think he was driven by hubris.”

“Ah,” I nodded in response. “In the context of over confident in one’s self, plus an excess of self-pride?”

“Precisely so,” beamed Holmes.

“That’s a singular difference between you and Lardner, Holmes,” I opined.

“Oh?” Holmes was clearly intrigued. “Please tell me what you have deduced, my old friend.”

“Holmes, you are an expert on a number of specific topics. You are conversant in the law, in botany, geology and the like, have a deep knowledge of Chemistry, know more than most medical students about anatomy and you have a passable knowledge of medical matters.

“But on subjects of which you know nothing, such as politics, literature and philosophy, you would readily and cheerily admit your lack of knowledge. I doubt that poor Lardner could do that. He would have to play the part of the expert, even if his knowledge of a particular subject was somewhat lacking, perhaps?”

Holmes raised a toast to me. “A capital statement on the good professor! And I am sad to say that you are almost certainly correct in your judgement of the man.

“I saw Brunel at his club this afternoon and I passed on the findings of Professor Moriarty. Tomorrow poor Professor Lardner will give his evidence to the Parliamentary hearings which are discussing the proposal of the Great Western Railway. And Brunel will refute them. I almost feel sorry for the fellow!”

Holmes lit his pipe and smoked contentedly.

The next day at the hearing Brunel took Professor Lardner to task, pointing out that his calculations, whilst superficially correct, were ultimately completely wrong because he had omitted to take into consideration the twin factors of air-resistance and friction.

This was, Brunel told the hearing, a basic error that completely negated Professor Lardner’s calculations.

Lardner should have been disgraced, but he took his humiliation in his stride.

This was not the last time that Lardner’s calculations proved fallible. Several years later he stated, with great certainty, that steamships would be unable to carry adequate coals to make a crossing from Britain to America, because, according to his calculations, this would be impossible.

Three years after he made this Delphic prognostication, whilst on one of our rare visits to America, Holmes and I were amused to see that we were sharing the steamship with none other than Professor Lardner himself, who was making the apparently impossible journey.

Holmes and I joked about approaching Lardner and questioning him about this, another example of his errant calculations, but we decided to restrain ourselves and did not do so.

After all, we were both urbane gentlemen of the modern era, the height of Victorian sensibilities.

(Note: The story is based on factual events. Professor Dionysius Lardner FRS FRSE was a real character and did make the errors outlined in this story. And Brunel took him to task at the hearing.)

Father Brown and the commercial traveller

(The following story is written in homage to and celebration of the G. K. Chesterton Father Brown character. It is a new work of fiction)


The priest who arrived at the reception of the large, well-to-do hotel looked a very unlikely person to provoke a strong reaction, good or bad, in anyone. He had a round, unremarkable face, he was short, some would say stumpy, his black, priestly clothing was somewhat shapeless and his large umbrella had seen better days.

However, the shouts of genuine, heartfelt joy from a tall Irishman who had just entered the reception through an internal door, the small middle-aged priest provoked a strong reaction upon being recognised.

“Is that you, Father Brown?” his voice, more appropriate to a parade ground, boomed across the room.

Momentarily the shorter man looked bewildered as he tried to place the source of the voice. But then he responded: “Why bless me! It’s Clonmel, County Tipperary’s, favourite son, Detective Sergeant John O’Connor, of the Metropolitan Police Force! What brings you to this part of the Home Counties?”

The two men vigorously shook hands and in a quieter, more confidential tone of voice O’Connor said: “I’m here to help the local police force apprehend a ruthless, cold-blooded killer. The local force believes a young man, who was treated exceptionally badly by the victim, to be the killer.”

At this point, O’Connor tapped his nose with a finger before adding: “But my instinct and my policeman’s nose tells me he’s not the man we’re looking for. The man I fancy as the killer is, I believe, staying at this very hotel!”

“Goodness me,” said Father Brown.

O’Connor said “Please join me in the resident’s bar. It’s my treat. I’ll have a drop of Guinness and I believe your tipple is still a half pint of brown ale?”

“It certainly is,” Father Brown agreed, affably. He excused himself momentarily to give the porter a gratuity to take his bags to his bedroom.

“Now, why don’t you tell me all about it?” he said as they companionably walked through the door into the residents’ bar.

With their drinks delivered to their table, O’Connor began talking. “We received intelligence a local businessman had become involved with a gang of criminals. Unfortunately, he crossed them because they ordered a professional killer to come here to murder him and the informant was able to tell the police the killer was staying in this hotel.”

“The local police were involved and decided a small-time criminal by the name of Peter Finch was the killer.”

Father Brown took a reflective sip of his brown ale. “You disagree, John?”

“I do Father Brown, I do! I know Finch. Yes, he’s a bit of a crook but he’s no killer. But I have to convince the local police force of that.”

“Why are you involved?” asked Father Brown.

“It’s complicated. I was following Peter Finch as we suspect him of being a member of a gang of car thieves, involved with the murdered local businessman who owned a second-hand car showroom. But when I arrived in town my superiors decided to put me on secondment to the local police force to offer them my services.”

“And did they not like that? Asked Father Brown, perceptively.

“That they didn’t! They had their noses put out of joint! So they arrested young Finch and whilst he is languishing in a police cell the murderer is going to get away Scot free unless I can do something.

But I’m not quite sure what I can do. Oh, of course, I’ve sent a telegram to my boss at Scotland Yard and doubtless, he’ll be trying to pull some strings from his end, but at the moment it’s a bit of a waiting game, I’m sorry to say.”

Father Brown said: “And who is this man you suspect of being the hired killer?”

“He’s in the hotel under the name of Harold Pritchard and he claims to be a commercial traveller selling cheeses. He is booked to leave tomorrow, this evening will be his last night here. He’s out now, attending to business, or so he told everyone very loudly this morning.”

Father Brown sat, thinking, a slight smile playing on his lips. Eventually, he spoke. “I think I have the germ of an idea. Let’s go to see the hotel manager.”

In fictional detective stories, hotel managers either demand to see a search warrant or ask for bribes to allow the detectives to enter the room.

Mr Jones, the manager of the Devonshire Arms hotel did neither. He was a no-nonsense man of the old school. As a child, he’d been raised to trust police officers and, for that matter, priests, so when a detective and a priest asked, very politely, to look round the room of another guest he immediately acquiesced to their request.

They found nothing in the room save for an empty suitcase and a modest chest of drawers containing the resident's clothing. On a shelf near the washbasin were a toothbrush and his shaving kit and a bottle of men’s scented water.

“Tell me, Mr Jones, does Mr Pritchard have anything else in storage within the hotel? Any other luggage? Does he have a car or a small van parked outside? Anything like that?”

“No Father, he doesn’t. Not a thing. This is all he has. He has no vehicle parked within our garage or our car park. ”

“Thank you,” said Father Brown. He turned to his friend and said: “I want you to sniff the air deeply. Tell me what you can smell.”

His companion obliged and said, puzzled, “All I can smell is a faint whiff of lavender polish and whatever scent Pritchard splashes on himself. What was I supposed to smell, Father Brown?”

Father Brown was looking thoughtful again, as his mind spun and whirred. “Under the circumstances as I am beginning to understand them, probably nothing, John.”

The detective made sure that they had disturbed nothing in the room and as the manager locked the door with his passkey Father Brown said: “Excuse me, but what time is dinner served this evening?”

“It’s served at 8 pm sharp. We used to have room service meals available but that was before the Great War when we had a full staff. Sadly things like that are lost into the past and I doubt we will ever see them again.”

Father Brown nodded, sadly. “Could you please arrange for Mr Pritchard to be placed on our table for dinner, presuming that he will be dining in this evening?”

“Oh, he will be dining in this evening. He specifically asked what was on the menu for his last meal here. It will be a matter of simplicity to arrange the seating arrangements as you desire them. The hotel is quite full and your room was the last one vacant, Father.”

Once back in his room, Detective Sergeant O’Connor began to puzzle as to why Father Brown  had told him told to sniff deeply in the room and what he would be able to ascertain from that.

Detective Sergeant O’Connor, and not for the first time since he had met Father Brown all those years ago when Father Brown was a relatively new priest and he had not long come out of being a probationary police constable, thought: “I’m thanking the good Lord above that you did not decide to live a life of crime, Father Brown! Because no policeman could ever have had your measure! You would have got away with everything that you put your mind to, every crooked plan and scheme and we would have been unable to stop you at all!”

That evening at 8 pm sharp everyone was seated in the hotel’s dining room. Its late Victorian splendour was clearly in the dim and distant past, but it was still obviously the dining room of the best hotel in the small Home Counties market town.

At the table was an unmarried middle-aged school teacher visiting her family who still lived in the town of her birth, but for a variety of reasons, she chose to stay at the hotel rather than imposing herself on her relatives.

After listening to what Sergeant O’Connor later described to Father Brown as her “whine list” they knew several things about Miss Carpenter. She was single, filled with her own self-importance and a dreadful bore. Or was that a dreadful boor? The difference was pretty much immaterial.

But Harold Pritchard! What a revelation that man was! He was thin to the point of looking somewhat cadaverous, almost as if an undertaker had taken a bet to starve himself to the point of becoming skeletal.

However, he had a perfectly normal appetite and ate heartily of the various courses of fine cuisine and excellent wines that the hotel’s chef and sommelier were able to offer.

Eventually, they talked about their jobs. They learned that Miss Carpenter was a teacher, they laughed when they said it was obvious that Father Brown was a priest and when Sergeant O’Connor revealed that although he was an Irishman through-and-through, he was not living in the Irish Free State, nor was he a member of the recently formed Garda Síochána, but rather the Metropolitan Police of London.

Father Brown watched Pritchard. To the casual observer, nothing had changed in the demeanour of the man. But Father Brown was not a casual observer. He was a keen student of human behaviour and was always willing to learn more and to discover more.

He had noticed that Pritchard’s pupil’s had suddenly dilated and that the carotid artery in his neck had pulsed, obvious signs of distress.

“And what is it that you, do, Mr Pritchard?”

Pritchard attempted to smile affably, though the effect was more alarming than reassuring, as it carried all the warmth of the kiss of the ice maiden’s dissolute older brother.

“I, Father Brown? I am a commercial traveller in cheese. I go up and down the entire island of Britain taking orders for cheese from department stores, large hotels, cheesemongers, large grocery stores and the like.”

“What a fascinating job!” said Father Brown, being able to load his tone with just the correct amount of sincerity and interest.

Warming to his task Pritchard spoke of his life on the road as a commercial traveller in cheeses. The longer he went on, the more confident he became, managing to wrest wry grins and the odd chuckle from his captive audience of three souls with his stories.

Eventually, when he paused, the others at the table took up the conversation. Miss Carpenter expressed a dislike of all types of cheeses (which did not surprise the others, to be perfectly honest) and Detective Sergeant O’Connor opined that “you just can’t beat a nice chunk of Irish farmhouse cheese with some good freshly baked soda bread and some freshly churned farm butter!”

Everyone agreed, save for Miss Carpenter whose shudder indicated that her dislike of cheese was a deeply rooted matter.

Then Father Brown began to speak. “I agree with you, Sergeant. The many times that I have visited Ireland and enjoyed some good, farmhouse cheeses there, does tend to bear out what you say. However, I must admit that I like the French Roquefort cheese. It’s equal in taste to Stilton and it’s easy to see why the French describe it as the Queen of Cheeses. And the fact that the farmers of The Camargue exclusively make it with 100% goat’s milk is remarkable as it gives it that delicious tang.”

Pritchard agreed and said: “Ah, yes! The goat’s milk is the key to what makes that cheese so tasty, you are correct there, Father Brown! However, I tend to only deal with our own British cheeses, not any specialist continental types.”

After coffee, the diners took leave of each other and returned to their rooms. Except for Father Brown who went with Detective Sergeant O'Connor into his room.

“Why on earth were you going on about cheeses?” asked Sergeant O’Connor. “But I do know one thing, you will have had a damn good reason to talk to him about cheeses!”

“I did indeed,” said Father Brown. “When we went to his room, remind me, what was it we found?”
Sergeant O’Connor paused in thought for a few seconds. “Not much, now you come to mention it. His clothing, his toiletry items, shaving kit, not much else, really.”

“Exactly!” said Father Brown, emphatically. “If he really is a commercial traveller dealing in cheeses, where is his order book? Where are his samples of cheese? In the old days, commercial travellers who were attempting to sell cheeses to potential customers would have carried waxed samples of their various cheeses. And nowadays as we move on to a more technical and, or so we are told, brighter and better, more scientific future, there are even small vans with refrigerator units in them.

“And that’s another thing. If he is a commercial traveller in anything, where is his vehicle? I specifically asked the hotelier and he has no vehicle on the premises, not even an old Penny Farthing!

“So how does he take his cheese to his customers? Catch a train? Hop onto a bus?”

“But there’s something that just now has occurred to me,” said Detective Sergeant O’Connor. “When you asked me to sniff for something in the air of his room, I got the impression that you were asking me to sniff out something in particular. What was it?”

“Cheese! Just the smell of cheese! If he is a commercial traveller in cheese, why was there no smell of any types of cheeses? Oh, I know that kind of evidence such as it is would not stand up in court, far too insubstantial, a case depending on a smell, but very indicative, all the same.”

“And what of that conversation at dinner, just now? What did that tell us?”

“It confirmed what we already suspected, that Pritchard is no more a commercial traveller in cheeses than a swan could fly to the moon. That story I told him about Roquefort Cheese was a total canard, to borrow a French word.

 "Roquefort is not produced in The Camargue, it is produced in caves in Roquefort-sur-Soulzon, about 140 miles away. And although previously some farmers might have added a little goat’s milk or cow’s to the Roquefort cheese, it’s essentially 100% Ewe’s milk.

“And yet he made not the slightest effort to correct me or to ask me where I had received my information from.  Even if he didn’t sell French cheeses, he’d almost certainly be expected to know what the main cheese types in France are. And Roquefort is known as the King of Cheeses in France, not the Queen of Cheeses. And if I, an ordinary parish priest know that, a cheese salesman certainly would have been expected to know that. And a cheese salesman would be pleasingly plump, not as cadaverous as Mr Pritchard!”

“Thank you, Father Brown!  Now I’ll have to get the local police station to provide me with some armed officers and their senior detective to help put the cuffs on that murderer. And they’ll have to let Finch go. He’s an idiot, but he’s certainly no killer.”