In Memoriam: Susan Diamond
I stepped into the Bensenville, Illinois Public Library thinking that they must have confused me with some other author. One of, you know… note. Who had written things of import and carried gravitas in her clutch bag and smelled like the finest Mont Blanc pens. After all, this library was on beautiful grounds, carefully curated with a stunning stone fireplace and public reading room, filled with art and statuary and the scariest, sleekest library amphitheater I’d ever seen. Surely they had the wrong person.
But there was a simpler explanation, and the simplest are often the best: Susan Z. Diamond had invited me to speak there, and she was one of the kindest, funniest, sharpest Sherlockians I’d ever broken bread with. My girlfriend and I ended up being feted at her beautiful home outside of Chicago. As many times as I’d already spent chuffed to bits by Susan’s company, that’s when I knew how far her generosity of spirit went. Susan was not a once-a-year Sherlockian, or a lets-all-meet-at-a-club-for-$15-drinks devotee. She was a giver and a hostess, a charmer and a friend, and she will be sorely missed.
Susan was by any standards a highly successful woman—an English Lit major via the University of Chicago, with her MBA from DePaul University; a sought-after finance lecturer and the president of Diamond Associates, Ltd; and a tireless civic volunteer. But it was in her capacity as a passionate Sherlockian that she left the deepest impression on all our lives. I can recall being terrified of attending American Library Association conferences at the start of my career, and Susan on each occasion threw a party for the deerstalker set and introduced me to all and sundry. She was for many years the co-editor with Marilyn McKay of The Serpentine Muse, the Adventuresses of Sherlock Holmes’s publication of plugs and dottles and poems and toasts and essays and reflections, a journal that embodies all the joy and silliness and erudition and scholarship and panache that women bring to the great feast that is the Sherlockian table.
As if that weren’t enough, she held multiple key positions (including Chairperson) in The Beacon Society, a group devoutly dedicated to rewarding educators for teaching the canon, encouraging all sorts of educational facilities to engage children in learning through the adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, and providing templates and assistance for those interested in spreading the gospel of the Great Detective. And as if that weren’t enough, her namesake award, the Susan Z. Diamond Beacon Society Award, grants a certificate, check, subscriptions to the Muse and the Baker Street Journal, and report on the winner’s project to the top applicant responsible for introducing the most people to Sherlock Holmes in meaningful fashion. What could be more important? What could be more admirable, than to share what we all treasure?
I’m doubtless leaving out countless anecdotes and biographical milestones about Susan, because I wasn’t there to enjoy her company and the company of other ASH sooner. But that’s the beautiful thing about Susan; she didn’t care about pedigree, or credentials, or gatekeeping. She welcomed new Sherlockians with open arms. It was her entire raison d’etre.
So while I can’t tell you tales from her early days, I can tell you that she personally contacted BSB Taylor asking that she write for the Muse more often—because Taylor is marvelously talented, but doesn’t always think so herself. I can tell you that she laughed at jokes made by newcomers. I can tell you that she knew quicker than most when someone felt uncomfortable or intimidated, and put a stop to it. And I can tell you that when I ended up embroiled in a Sherlockian controversy (there have been many), and someone objected to an event of mine being listed in the Muse, Susan’s response was, “We report on the doings of all Adventuresses in our publication, and Lyndsay Faye is an Adventuress.” End of story.
I will miss Susan’s presence. I will regret not having communicated more in recent months. I will feel for those close to her, and wish them all the peace possible at such a time. But most importantly, I will strive to be like Susan. She was a true beacon—and she kindled lights in more fledgling Sherlockians than we can ever hope to calculate.
Lyndsay Faye is the author of several novels, has been translated into 13 languages, but remains in love with English. You can find out more about them at lyndsayfaye.com & poke her on twitter @LyndsayFaye.
BSB Lyndsay, ASH “The Fascinating Daughter of a California Millionaire,” BSI “Kitty Winter.”
So sorry to read this her writing will be greatly missed. My condolences to her family and friends♥️
One of the many miracles of life is that we often care deeply about people we never meet. To my regret, I never met Susan Diamond. However, we corresponded often through the years and she was generous enough to publish several of my contributions in The Serpentine Muse. Whenever I published a new adventure about boy detective Barry Baskerville, Susan offered warm encouragement and was quick to spread the word to her readers and friends. In sum, Susan Diamond ranked among the first tier of Sherlockians and her presence will be sorely missed by family and a plethora of friends, some of which she never met.
“May the four nails of her coffin be of the purest gold.” (Charlie Chan, Keeper of the Keys, 1932, Chap 18)
Lyndsay, thank you for this beautiful tribute. We spoke about linking to this from our Nashville Scholars newsletter, which will be published in the next week or so. We have linked this sweet farewell. Thanks again.