it begins here

Question ... for anyone who may have been tortured by poetry in school, work, or a past life ... ?

I've been trying to find a good textbook (study book, workbook) to learn/understand how to break down poetry and understand what makes it tick, how to create different types of poetry, etc. Does anyone know of a good (old or new) resource or have any suggestions??

Asking professor Google has turned up such helpful results as 'read poetry out loud' and 'ask questions of the poem' and 'sign up for this insanely expensive scam course on writing which will obv make u better noob'.

*sigh* I have a sinking feeling it would be merely a chapter in someone's old college course book somewhere?? and not a full book just on this particular subject. But I would take it. Anything. Any little scrap or article, or recommendations. Or even a snapshot of a book spine or a page.

Who knew wanting to study poetry would be this hard?

–Arthur Conan Doyle

One thing that has always bothered me about The Abominable Bride is Sherlock’s gleeful expression as he launches himself over the falls.

Sherlock’s swan dive in The Abominable Bride

Within just a few minutes, we go from Moriarty being shoved off the precipice, presumably to his death, to Sherlock taking exactly the same route, as he grins wildly, decidedly out of character.

Why should he be smiling? And should we be smiling, too?

A long-awaited trip to Niagara, under the cut.

Sherlock: It’s not a pleasant thought, John. But I have this terrible feeling from time to time that we might all just be human.

John: Even you?

I can only think he meant to say one of two things: “Well I’m not the John Watson anyone knows,” including himself, or, “Well I’m not the John Watson I know.” 

His distress and depression at being shot then invalided out of his Life’s Work and the feeling that he has no meaningful place in society (being back and staying in London, as Mike says John couldn’t bear to be anywhere else) is still so palpable and real for him.

So it’s all the more wonderful, isn’t it, that Sherlock whirls into his life soon after and very bluntly states “I know you’re an army doctor-” upon meeting him. And he says it again the following day. “You’re a doctor. In fact, you’re an army doctor.” Present tense, not past. “You are.” He’s not looking at John like John looks at himself: as a has-been, a nobody. He sees John as very capable, skilled, strong, worthy. 

But then there’s the way John immediately stands up, clears his throat, and faces Sherlock back-straight and head-on, and answers his “Any Good?” with “Yes. Very good.” Oh man. OH MAN. This is when John finally realizes he may still have a meaningful place in the world after all. That he’s not washed up just because he’s been invalided.