The publication date for Sherlock Holmes & The Ripper of Whitechapel did not happen by accident. More like happenstance, I suppose. It needed to be a Tuesday (why do books release on Tuesday?) and in November. (The latter qualifier due to mood and tone of book, overall placement within the yearly calendar, distance from my other releases… all sorts of calculus went into this.) My own birthday was out of the question- that just seemed a bit too indulgent. No, I needed something Holmes-adjacent, something a little more recherché.
And so November 3 was selected all those months back.
At the time I hadn’t realized that Mr. Brett would have been gone 25 years as of this past September. Somehow, for me, it still feels rather immediate. But then, that’s the power of storytelling, I suppose. A good story, told well, will continually renew its lease upon a heart and I, for one, am comforted by the idea that Sherlock Holmes stands tall forever.