Funny, I never thought I’d feel nostalgic about a mall bookstore chain . . .

But I remember wandering into the local Waldenbooks, seeing an unexpected Sherlock Holmes title laying there before me, and snatching it up with great delight. Books like Michael Harrison’s Beyond Baker Street, or Michael Hardwick’s Prisoner of the Devil. Sometimes you’d read of a book first in The Baker Street Journal or a scion society newsletter, but there were still moments of bookstore surprise, like the world was handing you a gift.

These days, however, the world is less of a gift-giver and more like a crazed stalker.  Even though sundry ice storms and snow made me decide to stay in my study most of the weekend,  Sherlock Holmes books are still being thrust in my face by our old friend Amazon.com. An e-mail with the title “Amazon Recommends” showed up in my mailbox yesterday with all sorts of Sherlock Holmes books I don’t own. And if I click on any one of them, I get a list of “People who purchase this book also bought  . . .” which brings up even more Sherlock Holmes books I didn’t see coming.

Even stopping after the first iteration of redirects from Amazon, I come up with twenty books with a total cost of $311.43 that I could add to my library.  A haul like that used to take a wild Sherlock Holmes birthday weekend in New York, hitting the Mysterious Bookshop, Murder Ink, and the Baker Street Irregulars’ dealers room,  but thanks to Amazon’s kindly intrusion, I can now do the same damage to my charge card with five minutes of pointing and clicking.

The big difference, of course, is the quality of the resulting pile of books. Were I to take the old-fashioned New York route, I could look each book over, see if the writer can spell “Trichinopoly,” look for any hidden agendas, etc. With Amazon, one can wind up with a lot of “publish-on-demand” stuff that would have remained in someone’s closet or on some publisher’s slush pile twenty years ago. We live in a time of wonderful opportunity for writers, but for readers . . . better watch your back.

Of course,  Amazon’s encouragement of our publish-happy world also means I get to see some things that one would have had to hear about through Sherlockian channels and mail order in the past. Hugo’s Companions has a collection of articles on my “Amazon recommends” list that I hadn’t heard about.  And there are other treats from familiar Sherlockian names, like Kate Karlson and Lee Shackleford, but the enthusiasm one gets from such a find is muted by the barrage of offers of odd little pastiches

I add a few of these books to my “Wish List” for the kinfolk who are looking for a Christmas idea, but in the end, I don’t wind up buying anything. Had I been back in the local  mall bookstore and seen just one of these, I’d have had it up to the cash register and out the door in less than the time it takes to climb 17 steps.

Sherlock Holmes overkill. Who’d have thunk it?

Your humble correspondent,

Brad Keefauver