There aren't a lot of characters in literature that eclipse Sherlock Holmes. I mean, what a beautifully pretentious and confident guy! A prime example:
WATSON SEEKING HOLMES' APPROVAL OF HIS POWERS OF DEDUCTION:
'Has anything escaped me?' I asked with some self-importance. 'I trust that there is nothing of consequence which I have overlooked?'
'I am afraid, my dear Watson, that most of your conclusions were erroneous. When I said that you stimulated me I meant, to be frank, that in noting your fallacies I was occasionally guided towards the truth.'
Obviously Holmes is not a product of the self-esteem movement.
I did enjoy the story very much. Doyle explores supernatural versus natural explanations for the tragedies on the moor. With a detective like Holmes so steeped in facts and logic, you can guess that the supernatural plays second fiddle in The Hound of the Baskervilles
. And I have to agree with Lady Danielle that the ending comes across a bit Scooby Doo-ish. But since I liked Scooby as a kid, I'll give it a pass.
And what is it with Brit writers and their awesome descriptions of heaths, moors and mires? Doyle's Grimpen Mire actually eats ponies! Doesn't get much more devilish than that. Doyle treats the moor like a primary character in the story, and he does so masterfully.
Before I close, I need to share an epiphany for the perfect literary romp. What if Jeeves was Holmes' and Watson's butler, and Bertie Wooster the third roommate? I'd pay to read it.