Arthur Conan Doyle : Tales of terror

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1859-1930) zal wel voor eeuwig en altijd geassocieerd blijven met zijn bekendste creatie : de geniale speurneus Sherlock Holmes. Maar deze auteur en gewezen arts schreef buiten de case-studies van Holmes nog een heel ander oeuvre bijeen (poëzie, essays en pamfletten over oorlog en spiritualisme, toneelstukken, kortverhalen, avonturenromans met Professor Challenger in de hoofdrol, ...). Tijdens en na WO I geraakte Doyle meer en meer gefascineerd door spiritisme en onverklaarbare fenomenen. Het is in die periode dat deze verzameling kortverhalen (voor het eerst gebundeld en gepubliceerd in 1922) gesitueerd dienen te worden.

Erin zijn opgenomen : The Brazilian cat (1908), The terror of Blue John Gap (1910), The horror of the heights (1913), The leather funnel (1921), The new catacomb (1921) en The case of Lady Sannox (1921). Mysterie, fantasie en wraak vormen de leidraad.

Deze collectie kortverhalen vormt uiteraard geen wereldschokkende literatuur, maar blijft hoogst aangenaam om lezen. Toch kunnen er kanttekeningen geplaatst worden bij de originaliteit, omdat met name de geest van Edgar Allan Poe wel zeer nadrukkelijk over de verhaallijnen zweeft. Meer bepaald het wraakverhaal The new catacomb toont opmerkelijk veel gelijkenissen met The cask of amontillado van Poe uit 1846. Laten we echter Doyle maar het voordeel van de twijfel geven en het verhaal beschouwen als een hommage aan Poe ...

Doyle toont zich vooral een meester in het beschrijven van zijn personages, beschrijvingen die erom smeken om hardop gelezen te worden om ze van je tong te laten rollen.

Een mooi voorbeeld hiervan (uit The Case of Lady Sannox) :
"Douglas Stone in his prime was one of the most remarkable men in England. Indeed, he could hardly be said to have ever reached his prime, for he was but nine-and-thirty at the time of this little incident. Those who knew him best were aware that famous as he was as a surgeon, he might have succeeded with even greater rapidity in any of a dozen lines of life. He could have cut his way to fame as a soldier, struggled to it as an explorer, bullied for it in the courts, or built it out of stone and iron as an engineer. He was born to be great, for he could plan what another man dare not do, and he could do what another man dare not plan. In surgery none could follow him. His nerve, his judgement, his intuition, were things apart. Again and again his knife cut away death, but grazed the very springs of life in doing it, until his assistants were as white as the patient. His energy, his audacity, his full-blooded self-confidence - does not the memory of them still linger to the south of Marylebone Road and the north of Oxford Street? His vices were as magnificent as his virtues, and infinitely more picturesque. Large as was his income, and it was the third largest of all professional men in London, it was far beneath the luxury of his living. Deep in his complex nature lay a rich vein of sensualism, at the sport of which he placed all the prizes of his life. The eye, the ear, the touch, the palate, all were his masters. The bouquet of old vintages, the scent of rare exotics, the curves and tints of the daintiest potteries of Europe, it was to these that the quick-running stream of gold was transformed ..."

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle : his life, all his works and more