The purpose of my "Holmes Behind the Veil" trilogy

GIPHY

At long last, I wish to relate here the over-arching concept that has informed the writing from the start of my “Holmes Behind the Veil” series trilogy (aside from the obvious bringing together of characters conceived by H. Rider Haggard and Arthur Conan Doyle): These three books were written so that Sherlock Holmes meets Jesus, Mary, and God. Of course, these encounters have

ramifications and consequences, and that is why the three books add up to 900 pages. (900 is the accurate page count if adding the three MX books together. But, indeed, if one were to bind all three books together in a special-edition fine omnibus trilogy volume titled Sherlock Holmes in the Fullness of Time, the page count would be 571.) Beyond this threefold (Trinity-like) thematic foundation, the books are like my three children who each have their own personalities, aspirations, and purpose

Book 1, Sherlock Holmes on the Roof of the World, intends two things: (1) to bring together the Great Detective and Jesus Christ, and (2) to suggest what might have happened if Jesus had had some dealings with yogis.

The intension of Book 2, The Great Detective at the Crucible of Life, is threefold: (1) to broach the idea that the birthplace of the human race, the Great Rift Valley of East Africa, needs to be better recognized and honored; (2) to bring together the iconic detective and the mother of Jesus; and (3) to write my own “lost city/lost race” novel, a genre that is dear to my heart.

Book 3, The Sussex Beekeeper at the Dawn of Time, was conceived (1) to cause the detective to circuitously cross paths with God (insofar as I’d already had him encounter Jesus and meet Mary); (2) to offer some important notions regarding solar eclipses; (3) illustrate the curious, illusive, exceedingly patient, peculiar, frustrating, sometimes painful, sometimes gleeful, seemingly malicious, seemingly benevolent, roundabout, and thoroughly mysterious manner in which Fate can work; and (4) all in the context of a condensed-in-time, planet-encircling secret project the likes of which only God could bring to fruition (a project even more secret and more enormous than The Manhattan Project).

Nicholas' transplant had never been

attempted before. In the subsequent

news flurry, to retain our anonymity,

we gave Nicholas the press name of

"Baby James". Later, both being writers,

we wrote his life story from our

together point of view.

 

In the course of writing these books, begun on September 10, 1983 and continuing for 30 years, my son Nicholas Lawrence Miller was born on February 15, 1985. That evening, we had Chinese and my fortune cookie read, "You are the guiding star of his existence." Call it what you will, but I saw it as a good omen and I was pleased.  We lost him 18 1/2 months later.   That was August 31, 1986. This was devastating, of course, and it's miraculous that we reached the other side of our grief so as to continue our lives. Nicholas was the first toddler recipient of another's heart. His surgery had required us to move to southern California from northern California, which would have been inconceivable accept for these circumstances. Inspired by Nicholas' spirit and courage through all he endured, Jayne embarked on a career in organ transplantation, at which she excelled, became renowned, and made a real difference before she retired. I always saw myself as a magazine editor, a goal that would likely never have been attained in northern California, but before long, once we settled into our new home in southern California, I became editor-in-chief of the No. 1 technical trade publication in a fascinating field at which I thrived for 20 years until I retired, likewise making a difference. One day a couple of years back, Jayne and I were remembering the day of Nicholas' birth, and I mentioned that message in the fortune cookie, "You are the guiding star of his existence." And then it hit us both. Looking back on our lives, we realized that none of it would have occurred if it hadn't been for Nicholas and all the things that happened, the cumulative effect of which helped his parents succeed in our respective careers and make a difference. We looked at one another and realized with happiness and sadness, surprise and excitement that it wasn't me who was the guiding star of his existence. He was the guiding star of our existence. All of which illustrates for me, at least, the curious, illusive, exceedingly patient, roundabout, and thoroughly mysterious nature of Fate.

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