Vincent Starrett was a Canadian-born American writer, journalist, and bibliophile, renowned for his contributions to literature and his passion for books. He spent much of his life in Chicago, where he became a prominent figure in the literary community, contributing to various publications and cultivating a deep appreciation for the written word. Starrett's literary career spanned multiple genres, but he is best remembered for his detective fiction, particularly the 'The Great Detective' series featuring the character of Sherlock Holmes. His work not only celebrated the detective genre but also explored themes of mystery and human nature, showcasing his adept storytelling skills. In addition to his fiction, Starrett was a dedicated bibliophile and an influential critic of literature, penning essays and reviews that reflected his extensive knowledge of books and authors. His notable works include 'The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes' and 'The Bookman,' which further solidified his reputation in literary circles. Starrett's legacy endures through his writings and his role in promoting the appreciation of literature, particularly in the realm of detective fiction, where he helped shape the genre's development in the early 20th century.
“When we are collecting books, we are collecting happiness.”
“Here dwell together still two men of note Who never lived and so can never die: How very near they seem, yet how remote That age before the world went all awry. But still the game’s afoot for those with ears Attuned to catch the distant view-halloo: England is England yet, for all our fears– Only those things the heart believes are true. A yellow fog swirls past the window-pane As night descends upon this fabled street: A lonely hansom splashes through the rain, The ghostly gas lamps fail at twenty feet. Here, though the world explode, these two survive, And it is always eighteen ninety-five.”
“But there can be no grave for Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson...Shall they not always live in Baker Street? Are they not there this moment, as one writes? Outside, the hansoms rattle through the rain, and Moriarty plans his latest devilry. Within, the sea-coal flames upon the hearth and Holmes and Watson take their well-won case...So they still live for all that love them well; in a romantic chamber of the heart, in a nostalgic country of the mind, where it is always 1895.”
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