Laurie R. King

It’s been another fantastic BSI weekend here in ([bloody cold]) New York City.  Thursday after a lunch (French onion soup, nice and hot. Did I mention that it’s been cold here?) with the Random House Team Laurie, including editorial, publicity, and marketing, that was enthusiastic and energetic and warm (sensing a theme here?) the BSI action heated up (yep) with a lecture by Alan Bradley on…weather in the Sherlock Holmes stories. And other stories too but mostly Holmes.

Friday is a pair of events: the William Gillette luncheon down in (snowy) Chelsea, with drinks and friendship and silly skits to round out the day, then the BSI dinner itself at the Yale Club next to Grand Central.  Black tie is a lot of fun when all the men are actually wearing back tie, and it sure makes the women’s dresses (since the room was warm enough to shed the heavy outer coats) stand out in the group photo.  And speaking of standing out, sitting at my table was a somewhat bemused (a BSI dinner being a pretty obscure event, when it comes to references, jokes, and humor) Kareem Abdul Jabbar, who has written a novel (yes) on (ready?) not basketball, in fact the least athletic character in the entire Conan Doyle canon: Mycroft Holmes.  As a young man, meaning his brother Sherlock is still a kid.  It’s out in October.

And today, the survivors of the revels scrabble their bleary way out of their warm beds to shop the book tables and craft stalls of the dealer’s room at the Roosevelt Hotel, hoping to score that Sherlockian treasure that will complete their collection or change their life (I’ll be eyeing the knit scarves table) and with luck those tables will include one of several writers and the editors signing In the Company of Sherlock Holmes, suitable for all your reading pleasure, preferably with a hot drink before a fire. Then comes a final cocktail party-slash-business meeting at which the estimable Peter Blau runs an auction (fund-raiser) forcing up bids on everything anyone puts into his hand.

Followed by a plane, and home, where I will get walk into the airport peeling off sixteen layers of clothing, and drive home to pack my long black wool-and-cashmere coat away for another year.

Thanks, Baker Street Irregulars, for inviting me into your warm circle. But honestly, couldn’t you have chosen another month to celebrate Sherlock Holmes’ birthday? Even the Queen gets a public day to celebrate hers in June.