What the Dickens?

The above phrase has been making me chuckle for a while now. Why? Because I am immersing myself in Charles Dicken's fiction - that's why. Inspired by Libby's reading of the Christmas Carol to her class, I decided to remedy my own woeful exposure to the Victorian great and pick up the Dickens books we happened to own, and then I even read them.

I must say I am pleasantly surprised. My last exposure to Dickens was David Copperfield, which I read in 9th Grade. The result was that I aced the class (I got extra credit by the page!) without even having to worry about the final. I got like 30% of the possible credit in the class from David Copperfield. That was pretty nice. The problem was the book was very long, and I remember being fairly bored with it by the end.

So, I didn't really develop a taste for Dickens that read-through, you see? This may be an argument against exposing people to great fiction before they're ready, though that's not clearly correct. It merits some thought, though.

Anyway, here at 23, I can't get enough of Oliver Twist or Great Expectations (our two tomes here at home). They are rivetting fiction, if a little wordy at times. I found you could sort of skim some of the long descriptive passages and keep the plot flowing quickly.

Oliver Twist has been made into quite a few movies. I saw Roman Polanski's version last year, and I enjoyed it very much, and I know I've seen at least one live action movie besides that in my childhood. I really liked Oliver and Company when I was a kid. I was, however, totally not prepared for the actual book. I really didn't know how it was going to end! It was really exciting.

Thematically, it is harsh. It's much harsher in the narrator's tone than Great Expectations - perhaps because it's an earlier novel. The beginning was especially vindictive toward the English system of caring for the poor, and it was so vitrolic that I found it hard to actually countenance. Never the less, as uncomfortable as such intense sentiments can be, that uncomfortableness is healthy in urging self-examination. It's remarkable to me that someone can write criticism particularly aimed at a unique system of social care, and hit home in the hearts of people completely removed from that system. That's a sign of good writing.

I especially liked Nancy's dilemma with Bill and repentance. There were powerful moments of potential redemption and doom, and while Nancy ends up alright, I imagine, you cannot but hurt for her. Her heroic work on behalf of Oliver is wonderful.

Another surprising element of the novel was Fagin's complicitness in the death of Nancy. He always struck me as a funny, happy, kind character in the movies - but in the book he is a truly evil man with happy accidents. You can and ought to pity him, but he is as guilty as sin. I also didn't know he was a Jew, which seems a little anti-semitic.

I also love how the conflict in the middle of the novel is driven by the fear of Oliver's entering into a life of crime and sin. The conflict is between good and evil, and the cost is a young boy's soul. That is a theme to benefit our culture! Morals matter, per se, and I really cared that he did not become a thief. This is only a problem of course, if being a thief is a very bad thing for Oliver to become, and I think the tension arises directly from our moral intuition. Thus, it's amazingly powerful, and great literature!

Great Expectations was very different than Oliver Twist. For one, it was written by the main character, and you can tell from the tone how he will turn out. In other words, he's reflecting as an educated gentleman on the fortunes of a young boy that begins as a blacksmith's apprentice. It turns out there are surprises in store for him on the way, but the fact that he is the one writing the book helps to retain a healthy love for the character even through his worst moments. And, it will be clear to any reader, he has some foul moments.

The most obviously wonderful themes about Great Expectations (of which I had no preconceived notions at all) was the way that the weakest give the most away. The benefactor of Pip is the most obvious (by the way, Phil, you should read the book if only for the main character's name) example, but there are others. For example, it's Oliver that helps the convict. Pip never receives assistance from his richest acquaintances, but all of his poor friends and family will give anything to him, even though he is not deserving.

It is teaching that class is indivisive to actual human nature. What I mean is that, though you can be poor, if you are a good human, you have many more riches than the richest gentleman. This is of course a romantic ideal about human nature, but the story is persuasive regarding its truth. Virtue is the best thing that can be had, and it comes at a cheap price for Joe, Biddy, and even Abel. It comes at a high price for Pip and Estella, but this price is not the weight of money, but of experience.

Humility thus arises as the highest virtue. I think that's the most important point the book might be trying to make. Look, if you think you're more than you are (a human being) you are not more or less than anyone else in th eyes of God (though unmentioned, this seems the clearest way to express what I mean - that they are equal on an eternal plane).

So, anyway, those are some of my thoughts on the books. I have more, but this is already quite long. Adios!