4.5 stars. (1882, but the stories had been previously published). These are Stevenson’s first works, written in his late 20s.
The collection is rather confusingly grouped into two volumes, the first containing two different story “cycles,” or sets of linked tales, though even these are connected. Basically what you have are two very wild novellas in which a Prince Florizel figures more or less prominently. Taken together it’s like a mini Monte Cristo. The rest is just regular short stories. I’ve never read Arabian Nights so am probably missing out on a lot of homages. The quality peters out towards the end but overall the book is fast, entertaining, and has a youthful love of the outrageous.
———————————————-
(1878) The Suicide Club
—Story of the Young Man with the Cream Tarts.
Dark and campy in a good way. Does a nice job conveying the gambler’s rush of this unusual Russian roulette, with the deck of cards going round the table once, then twice. Stevenson astutely makes the second meeting even smaller than the first, increasing the fatal odds.
—Story of the Physician and the Saratoga Trunk.
Another whirlwind nightmare. The best part is when the American tries to get rid of the trunk but keeps making more and more a spectacle of himself, first before a pack of hooting onlookers and then a porter, who starts eyeing the case as if it might contain money, and not a body.
—The Adventure of the Hansom Cab
Again a story where the protagonist is more acted upon than acting, a very pleasant form of storytelling if you ask me—the way the characters are carried away, often literally, into mysterious adventures.
(1878) The Rajah’s Diamond
—Story of the Bandbox
“The din at the door, so far from abating, continued to increase in volume, and at each blow the unhappy secretary was shaken to the heart. "What is your name?" asked the girl. "Harry Hartley," he replied. “Mine," she went on, "is Prudence. Do you like it?" "Very much," said Harry. "But hear for a moment how the General beats upon the door. He will certainly break it in, and then, in heaven's name, what have I to look for but death?" "You put yourself very much about with no occasion," answered Prudence. "Let your General knock, he will do no more than blister his hands. Do you think I would keep you here if I were not sure to save you? Oh, no, I am a good friend to those that please me! and we have a back door upon another lane. But," she added, checking him, for he had got upon his feet immediately on this welcome news, "but I will not show where it is unless you kiss me. Will you, Harry?" "That I will," he cried, remembering his gallantry, "not for your back door, but because you are good and pretty.”
Funny character, this cowardly yet gorgeous dandy.
Stevenson is really good at taking outlandish situations and making them more and more insane. It’s that same giddy feeling you find in later pulp novels or Tarantino (in fact one scene where the main character, fleeing the villains, runs straight into the premises of an even freakier villain reminded me of Pulp Fiction).
—Story of the Young Man in Holy Orders
After all the mayhem, a bookish young clergyman happens upon the rajah’s diamond and is instantly corrupted. This proliferation of crime stories feels like another modern trope. Also now I know what American Dad was playing off of with “The Golden Turd.”
—Story of the House with the Green Blinds
Full of dramatic action.
Here we have another story of a seemingly good person turning bad. If I may psychoanalyze: after glancing through Stevenson’s bio it was hard not to read the previous story, about a wayward clergyman, as the author’s guilt over his own atheism, which, however brief, broke his parents’ heart.
"O Lord, what a pleasant thing it is", Stevenson once wrote, "to have just damned the happiness of (probably) the only two people who care a damn about you in the world."
Moreover this tale, about a devoted son suddenly renouncing his father and embracing a vain existence in Paris, also felt like a transmuted reflection.
—The Adventure of Prince Florizel and a Detective
“His mind was full of concern; what to do with the diamond, whether to return it to its owner, whom he judged unworthy of this rare possession, or to take some sweeping and courageous measure and put it out of the reach of all mankind at once and for ever, was a problem too grave to be decided in a moment. The manner in which it had come into his hands appeared manifestly providential; and as he took out the jewel and looked at it under the street lamps, its size and surprising brilliancy inclined him more and more to think of it as of an unmixed and dangerous evil for the world. "God help me!" he thought; "if I look at it much oftener, I shall begin to grow covetous myself.”
I think it’s safe to say Tolkien read this.
“As for the Prince, that sublime person, having now served his turn, may go, along with the ARABIAN AUTHOR, topsy-turvy into space.”
Wonderful denouement.
“…and although a sedentary life is beginning to tell upon his waistcoat, he is probably, take him for all in all, the handsomest tobacconist in London.”
————————————————-
(1880) The Pavilion on the Links
“‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
“I only said one word: ‘Italians.’”
Foreign spies in the Scottish countryside, 35 years before The 39 Steps.
This could be called a novella too. As seen in the quote above, the mafia makes an appearance. Great atmosphere but I’m honestly stumped why Arthur Conan Doyle rated the story so highly (Note that he was disappointed by the version here: “There have been changes, and all for the worse, between the story as it originally appeared in Cornhill and as it reappeared in "The New Arabian Nights, but even as it stands it is a piece of work of extraordinary merit.”)
Another quote from the story:
“‘Leave that to Clara,’ returned Northmour.
“I could have struck him in the face for this coarse familiarity…”
Adorable time period.
(1877) A Lodging for the Night
The author’s first published work. Historical fiction about a medieval French poet named Francois Villon. I guess he was known for criminal behavior. Stevenson wrote about him further in a collection of nonfiction. Here the literary rogue gets mixed up with murder.
This is a sort of philosophical one-act play examining the nature of honor, morality and poverty. I liked how Stevenson lets things end unresolved. Villon is truly a worm, yet he is allowed the last word.
(1877) The Sire De Malétroits Door
A man trying to elude some soldiers at night leans against a house door and falls through, getting trapped inside, Poe-like. I really can’t get enough of this effect—one adventure leading to another, stranger one, the sudden change of genres. This one winds up being a transparent fantasy—not the first in this collection—where a helpless maiden has almost no choice but to fall in love with the hero. Important to remember, plot-wise, what unnatural pains Brits took, even at this late stage, to dance around talk of sex.
(1878) Providence and the Guitar
“…indeed there must be something permanently mercantile in the female nature.”
Like A Lodging for the Night, this is also a rambling tale (and tale of rambling) that turns into a story of ideas, the different positions embodied by the interlocutors.
“Frankly, how would you advise me?"
"Frankly, I would let my husband do what he wished. He is obviously a very loving painter; you have not yet tried him as a clerk.”
How could I not be won over with this?