...and a Postscript

Rap Sheet editor Jeff Pierce wanted me to talk a little about the next Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes book, which I mentioned in an earlier post is tentatively called The Language of Bees. It’s set back in England in the summer of 1924, after our intrepid duo have returned from India (The Game) and San Francisco (Locked Rooms and Holmes’ tale in The Art of Detection).

Summer in England can be extraordinarily lovely, almost absurdly close to a fictional representation of summer. (It can also be dismal and wet, but we won’t talk about that for the moment.) I’m not sure what the summer of 1924 was like, having not subjected my eyes yet to the microfilmed London Times in the university library, but MY summer of 1924 is sweet and warm, and the bees are hard at work.

The villains are, too, don’t worry. And when you read the novel (in the spring of 2009), if there appear to be parallels between the hive and their human keepers, it’s not in your imagination.

So, currently I’m writing a story about a hive of bees that has gone berserk, and why. I am also researching the subculture of Bohemia, and not the sort of Bohemia that had a scandal solved (more or less) by Holmes. I will also deal with several pieces of unfinished business from some of the other novels, and bring in a major plot and at least two subplots, one about love.

I feel as if I’m holding the reins of a four-horse team that is in a fractious mood.

For the moment, however, my batteries are nearly out, the sun is going down, and although I know the people from PG&E are laboring away somewhere, I hold few hopes that they will throw much illumination on the remainder of this day. So I will say thank you now, for having me, and if further comments or questions come in tonight, perhaps The Rap Sheet will be generous enough to permit me a brief visit on the morrow--or whenever the power goes back on.

Thanks for the hospitality, I hope you like Touchstone, and do drop in at my own Mutterings some time.