Bunny and Raffles, good lord.
Oct. 9th, 2009 08:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elabyOn the recommendation of various lovely people on Twitter, I started reading "The Amateur Cracksman" today. This is a collection of Victorian-era stories about A.J. Raffles, gentleman thief, and his unabashedly adoring sidekick, Bunny. Yes, Bunny. It's a public school nickname.
They were written by E. W. Hornung, who I believe was Arthur Conan Doyle's brother-in-law, and probably the biggest concurrent-era ACD fanboy I've ever heard of. The Raffles and Bunny stories I've read so far are absolutely freaking delightful, and are almost mind-blowingly slashy. Hornung did base Raffles on George Ives, early gay rights activist, but I think it's debated whether Hornung was aware of that part of Ives's career. At any rate, holy moly on a cracker, the slashiness.
I've read four and a half stories so far, and if I keep coming back for more (which I will, don't you worry) it'll be for Bunny and Raffles and not for the stories. To be absolutely frank, the plots themselves are not that great. As heists go, in the ones I've read, I think they've been successful... twice. Raffles was also successful in the "my first heist" flashback story, which was actually quite good. In terms of what I think as well-wrought plots, these are not them. They are, however, delightful and fascinating characters, and that's why I like them.
First, Raffles. It goes without saying that he was incredibly influenced by Holmes. Reading these is like playing "spot the Holmes reference." He's a master of disguise. He's a genius at his chosen career. He has artistic pastimes that belie his usual vocation. He's impatient and masterful. He takes advantage of his close friend's loyalty. He's pale and has piercing eyes and alternates between exaltation and morose quietude. But it's what differentiates him from Holmes that makes me interested in him as a character: he's also young and popular, but he rejects the world of the wealthy cricketer and turns to burglary because it's exciting. He doesn't have much in the way of morals, not so far. And he uses such slang when he talks! It's fantastic! Occasionally he's a little train-wreck-y. He can be appalling, but I still read on in fascination. And oh my gosh, is he ever touchy with Bunny. Grabby and tender and harsh and incredibly predatory.
And Bunny. Oh, Bunny. He shows up on Raffles's doorstep, not having seen him in years before that evening, to ask for help because he's in debt and has no money. He doesn't expect Raffles to help him, and threatens to shoot himself right there on the doorstep. Let me just paste it here for you, from Project Gutenberg.
I would have gone without a word; but Raffles stood between me and the door.
"Where are you going?" said he.
"That's my business," I replied. "I won't trouble YOU any more."
"Then how am I to help you?"
"I didn't ask your help."
"Then why come to me?"
"Why, indeed!" I echoed. "Will you let me pass?"
"Not until you tell me where you are going and what you mean to do."
"Can't you guess?" I cried. And for many seconds we stood staring in each other's eyes.
"Have you got the pluck?" said he, breaking the spell in a tone so cynical that it brought my last drop of blood to the boil.
"You shall see," said I, as I stepped back and whipped the pistol from my overcoat pocket. "Now, will you let me pass or shall I do it here?"
The barrel touched my temple, and my thumb the trigger. Mad with excitement as I was, ruined, dishonored, and now finally determined to make an end of my misspent life, my only surprise to this day is that I did not do so then and there. The despicable satisfaction of involving another in one's destruction added its miserable appeal to my baser egoism; and had fear or horror flown to my companion's face, I shudder to think I might have died diabolically happy with that look for my last impious consolation. It was the look that came instead which held my hand. Neither fear nor horror were in it; only wonder, admiration, and such a measure of pleased expectancy as caused me after all to pocket my revolver with an oath.
"You devil!" I said. "I believe you wanted me to do it!"
"Not quite," was the reply, made with a little start, and a change of color that came too late. "To tell you the truth, though, I half thought you meant it, and I was never more fascinated in my life. I never dreamt you had such stuff in you, Bunny! No, I'm hanged if I let you go now. And you'd better not try that game again, for you won't catch me stand and look on a second time. We must think of some way out of the mess. I had no idea you were a chap of that sort! There, let me have the gun."
One of his hands fell kindly on my shoulder, while the other slipped into my overcoat pocket, and I suffered him to deprive me of my weapon without a murmur.
And it keeps up like this. They look into each others' eyes a lot. Bunny never tires of pledging his life to Raffles, of telling him he'd do anything for him, of declaring himself Raffles's "man" every other breath. He's so very, very loyal, and he does have qualms about all the burglary, but he's too enamoured of Raffles to ever refuse to do anything. Even when Raffles wants to murder someone, he goes along promising not to interfere, though he does plan to diffuse the situation if possible. Their relationship poses certain problems because of the imbalance of power, but good lord, they're adorable. I need to read more right now!
They were written by E. W. Hornung, who I believe was Arthur Conan Doyle's brother-in-law, and probably the biggest concurrent-era ACD fanboy I've ever heard of. The Raffles and Bunny stories I've read so far are absolutely freaking delightful, and are almost mind-blowingly slashy. Hornung did base Raffles on George Ives, early gay rights activist, but I think it's debated whether Hornung was aware of that part of Ives's career. At any rate, holy moly on a cracker, the slashiness.
I've read four and a half stories so far, and if I keep coming back for more (which I will, don't you worry) it'll be for Bunny and Raffles and not for the stories. To be absolutely frank, the plots themselves are not that great. As heists go, in the ones I've read, I think they've been successful... twice. Raffles was also successful in the "my first heist" flashback story, which was actually quite good. In terms of what I think as well-wrought plots, these are not them. They are, however, delightful and fascinating characters, and that's why I like them.
First, Raffles. It goes without saying that he was incredibly influenced by Holmes. Reading these is like playing "spot the Holmes reference." He's a master of disguise. He's a genius at his chosen career. He has artistic pastimes that belie his usual vocation. He's impatient and masterful. He takes advantage of his close friend's loyalty. He's pale and has piercing eyes and alternates between exaltation and morose quietude. But it's what differentiates him from Holmes that makes me interested in him as a character: he's also young and popular, but he rejects the world of the wealthy cricketer and turns to burglary because it's exciting. He doesn't have much in the way of morals, not so far. And he uses such slang when he talks! It's fantastic! Occasionally he's a little train-wreck-y. He can be appalling, but I still read on in fascination. And oh my gosh, is he ever touchy with Bunny. Grabby and tender and harsh and incredibly predatory.
And Bunny. Oh, Bunny. He shows up on Raffles's doorstep, not having seen him in years before that evening, to ask for help because he's in debt and has no money. He doesn't expect Raffles to help him, and threatens to shoot himself right there on the doorstep. Let me just paste it here for you, from Project Gutenberg.
I would have gone without a word; but Raffles stood between me and the door.
"Where are you going?" said he.
"That's my business," I replied. "I won't trouble YOU any more."
"Then how am I to help you?"
"I didn't ask your help."
"Then why come to me?"
"Why, indeed!" I echoed. "Will you let me pass?"
"Not until you tell me where you are going and what you mean to do."
"Can't you guess?" I cried. And for many seconds we stood staring in each other's eyes.
"Have you got the pluck?" said he, breaking the spell in a tone so cynical that it brought my last drop of blood to the boil.
"You shall see," said I, as I stepped back and whipped the pistol from my overcoat pocket. "Now, will you let me pass or shall I do it here?"
The barrel touched my temple, and my thumb the trigger. Mad with excitement as I was, ruined, dishonored, and now finally determined to make an end of my misspent life, my only surprise to this day is that I did not do so then and there. The despicable satisfaction of involving another in one's destruction added its miserable appeal to my baser egoism; and had fear or horror flown to my companion's face, I shudder to think I might have died diabolically happy with that look for my last impious consolation. It was the look that came instead which held my hand. Neither fear nor horror were in it; only wonder, admiration, and such a measure of pleased expectancy as caused me after all to pocket my revolver with an oath.
"You devil!" I said. "I believe you wanted me to do it!"
"Not quite," was the reply, made with a little start, and a change of color that came too late. "To tell you the truth, though, I half thought you meant it, and I was never more fascinated in my life. I never dreamt you had such stuff in you, Bunny! No, I'm hanged if I let you go now. And you'd better not try that game again, for you won't catch me stand and look on a second time. We must think of some way out of the mess. I had no idea you were a chap of that sort! There, let me have the gun."
One of his hands fell kindly on my shoulder, while the other slipped into my overcoat pocket, and I suffered him to deprive me of my weapon without a murmur.
And it keeps up like this. They look into each others' eyes a lot. Bunny never tires of pledging his life to Raffles, of telling him he'd do anything for him, of declaring himself Raffles's "man" every other breath. He's so very, very loyal, and he does have qualms about all the burglary, but he's too enamoured of Raffles to ever refuse to do anything. Even when Raffles wants to murder someone, he goes along promising not to interfere, though he does plan to diffuse the situation if possible. Their relationship poses certain problems because of the imbalance of power, but good lord, they're adorable. I need to read more right now!
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no subject
Date: 2009-10-10 07:43 am (UTC)Would you believe that I used to smoke the same kind of cigarettes as Raffles? Yes, I was that pretentious.
no subject
Date: 2009-10-10 02:34 pm (UTC)Oooh, TV series...
no subject
Date: 2009-10-10 08:08 pm (UTC)Raffles teaches Bunny to smoke. (http://archiveofourown.org/works/5739)
no subject
Date: 2009-10-11 01:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-10 02:10 pm (UTC)I also kinda get a kick out of the fact that they enjoy being villains!
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Date: 2009-10-10 02:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-10 03:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-11 01:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-10 03:48 pm (UTC)Bunny and Raffles...OMG. Just, OMG. How could they possibly have been written that way without Hornung intentionally slashing them? I mean, really. All the things that ACD was already doing by his second time out with Holmes and Watson--all the "Watson is totally all over the ladiez and Holmes thinks love is GROSS" of SIGN--are nowhere to be found in The Amateur Cracksman. Just chemistry, chemistry, fawning, fagging, pillowtalk, gorgeous young cricketeers, matching purple diamonds, and did I mention chemistry. I've read through the first five stories, and cannot recall a single mention of a woman, except for a servant who never appears. It's not just Bunny and Raffles. NOBODY is married, nobody has the slightest interest in women. Just men and men and men. I don't see how one can HELP slashing, in some sense or another. It's a mad and wonderful place, is Baffles.
no subject
Date: 2009-10-11 01:16 pm (UTC)NOBODY is married, nobody has the slightest interest in women. Just men and men and men.
It IS just like yaoi manga, like VioletJimJams said. This is one of the main tenants of the genre; no girls to be seen. I can't wait to read more XD
I haven't gotten to the pillowtalk yet. Is this one of those places where you can't tell where they are, or does it actually say they're in bed? There was that part in, hmm, the one were Raffles tells about his first theft, where they were in pajamas in spite of not living together.
no subject
Date: 2009-10-10 06:30 pm (UTC)Sigh. I pine for fun books, even as the Wife of Bath's tale is mildly entertaining. Curse you and your wonderful recommendations, internet!
no subject
Date: 2009-10-11 01:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-11 05:09 pm (UTC)(I have even put off reading most of the new Katie-fic, though I broke down and read the first part last night; because I have been mostly being Good and Getting Things Done, which is miserable. I've such a truant nature; it rebels against productivity.)