What's Elizabeth Reading? ...Charles Dickens

Update on my Writing Excuses course, before I launch into this review: I swear to you that I did the writing exercise and I did take notes. I'm having computer issues, meaning I need to buy a new hard drive. I've been able to listen using my iPad, but when it comes to typing and updating this blog, said iPad (I've named it Charlotte after the author of Jane Eyre) is incorrigible. In case you're wondering, I'm typing this up at my desk at work. It isn't the best solution, but it will do until I patch up Charlotte.

I consider Charles Dickens one of my writing heroes. I'd say he's a regular hero of mine, too, except he cheated on his wife and that just isn't cool. I think Oliver Twist may have been my first Dickens book. It is also my least favorite of his, and if it really was my first Dickens, it's a miracle I read another. I'm glad I did, though, because David Copperfield and Great Expectations are two of the best books I have ever read. Until this past week, I had not read A Tale of Two Cities. I'm pretty sure it was because I was afraid it would turn out to be another Oliver Twist, though I'm not sure why.

After reading a couple paragraphs, I was thinking, "Oh no, Charles Dickens, what have you done." I was reading it on my iPad, so I flipped over to the Internet to scope out other versions of the text just in case I had gotten a faulty copy. It turns out I hadn't. Am I the only person out there who cannot easily understand this?:

It was the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Spiritual revelations were conceded to England at that favoured period, as at this. Mrs. Southcott had recently attained her five-and-twentieth blessed birthday, of whom a prophetic private in the Life Guards had heralded the sublime appearance by announcing that arrangements were made for the swallowing up of London and Westminster. Even the Cock-lane ghost had been laid only a round dozen of years, after rapping out its messages, as the spirits of this very year last past (supernaturally deficient in originality) rapped out theirs. Mere messages in the earthly order of events had lately come to the English Crown and People, from a congress of British subjects in America: which, strange to relate, have proved more important to the human race than any communications yet received through any of the chickens of the Cock-lane brood.

I have a pretty good tolerance for outdated language, but I ended up having to tell myself that maybe it would get better. It did. Here's an excerpt from later in the book (an excerpt that highlights Dickens' narrative wit, something that makes him such an incredible author):

...the owl made a noise with very little resemblance in it to the noise conventionally assigned to the owl by men-poets. But it is the obstinate custom of such creatures hardly ever to say what is set down for them.

Another quote, because I thought it was brilliant:

"...Because he is lame, and consequently slow, they drive him with their guns — like this!"

He imitated the action of a man's being impelled forward by the butt-ends of muskets.

"As they descend the hill like madmen running a race, he falls. They laugh and pick him up again. His face is bleeding and covered with dust, but he cannot touch it; thereupon they laugh again. They bring him into the village; all the village runs to look; they take him past the mill, and up to the prison; all the village sees the prison gate open in the darkness of the night, and swallow him — like this!"

He opened his mouth as wide as he could, and shut it with a sounding snap of his teeth.

I mean, how many authors out there think to put in the gestures associated with talking (and then pull it off so well)? This is the sort of language and narration I associate with Charles Dickens. If you enjoyed those quotes, consider reading a book of his. I highly recommend them. Except for Oliver Twist.

As for A Tale of Two Cities, it literally is not about anyone in particular, but rather, a group of people. After reading a snippet from another review -- I read it while reading the book because I had a question but didn't want to stumble across any spoilers -- I started wondering which character is the protagonist. The review (I can't remember where it was otherwise I would link to it) said Carton was the main character, but I disagree. My theory for the lack of a protagonist: Charles Dickens was one of the original television screenwriters. His books did not come out as books; rather, they came out in serials, meaning you would wait for the ship to come into harbor with the next chapter onboard. People would reportedly wait on the docks for the ships carrying the latest Charles Dickens, he was that popular. Seen as a literary television show, A Tale of Two Cities makes perfect sense. There are scenes or chapters that do focus on one particular character, or one aspect of the storyline. Just like in TV dramas today, these chapters come together like episodes to form a coherent storyline. Who is Grey's Anatomy about? To be honest, I have no idea because I don't watch the show, but I'm pretty sure it's about nobody in particular. It is about a group of people and each character takes the spotlight at different moments.

This also explains why I was able to read it in spurts and it was a page-turner until that "episode" was over, at which point I was just fine putting it down and doing something more productive with my life, like the yoga I'm calling exercise.

Oh, and getting in a tussle with the rosebush in my front yard.

That all said, and it took me two shifts at work to say it, I do recommend this book. Glance over the first bit and then start paying attention once he quits being weird. Don't forget you're reading a TV show, either, and do me the favor of letting me know if you agree with that approach.