Ένα πτώμα στον Τάμεση, μια μεγάλη κληρονομιά, κι ένας υποχρεωτικός γάμος συνθέτουν το τελευταίο ολοκληρωμένο και πλέον ώριμο μυθιστόρημα του Ντίκενς. Μια ανελέητη σάτιρα για την απληστία της βικτοριανής κοινωνίας.
Charles John Huffam Dickens (1812-1870) was a writer and social critic who created some of the world's best-known fictional characters and is regarded as the greatest novelist of the Victorian era. His works enjoyed unprecedented popularity during his lifetime, and by the twentieth century critics and scholars had recognised him as a literary genius. His novels and short stories enjoy lasting popularity.
Dickens left school to work in a factory when his father was incarcerated in a debtors' prison. Despite his lack of formal education, he edited a weekly journal for 20 years, wrote 15 novels, five novellas, hundreds of short stories and non-fiction articles, lectured and performed extensively, was an indefatigable letter writer, and campaigned vigorously for children's rights, education, and other social reforms.
Dickens was regarded as the literary colossus of his age. His 1843 novella, A Christmas Carol, remains popular and continues to inspire adaptations in every artistic genre. Oliver Twist and Great Expectations are also frequently adapted, and, like many of his novels, evoke images of early Victorian London. His 1859 novel, A Tale of Two Cities, set in London and Paris, is his best-known work of historical fiction. Dickens's creative genius has been praised by fellow writers—from Leo Tolstoy to George Orwell and G. K. Chesterton—for its realism, comedy, prose style, unique characterisations, and social criticism. On the other hand, Oscar Wilde, Henry James, and Virginia Woolf complained of a lack of psychological depth, loose writing, and a vein of saccharine sentimentalism. The term Dickensian is used to describe something that is reminiscent of Dickens and his writings, such as poor social conditions or comically repulsive characters.
On 8 June 1870, Dickens suffered another stroke at his home after a full day's work on Edwin Drood. He never regained consciousness, and the next day he died at Gad's Hill Place. Contrary to his wish to be buried at Rochester Cathedral "in an inexpensive, unostentatious, and strictly private manner," he was laid to rest in the Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey. A printed epitaph circulated at the time of the funeral reads: "To the Memory of Charles Dickens (England's most popular author) who died at his residence, Higham, near Rochester, Kent, 9 June 1870, aged 58 years. He was a sympathiser with the poor, the suffering, and the oppressed; and by his death, one of England's greatest writers is lost to the world." His last words were: "On the ground", in response to his sister-in-law Georgina's request that he lie down.
This was a wonderful way to read Dickens...a masterpiece broken into two separate books, with each volume its own saga. In Volume II, we get to the true action, having been introduced to the characters in Volume I. And what action! So many characters with so many paths to follow, and all the paths leading to one bim-bam resolution. I love Dickens.
Boffin-osity! The Boffins keep us centered throughout this long journey, as they remind us of that frail chain of goodness that still emanates in human hearts. While I didn't immediately buy the Golden Dustman's improvised act, the conclusion made me feel good anyway. And those characters! Wegg, with the extra "g" to compensate for his missing leg. Mr. Venus, whose very name symbolizes science and dissection; Mortimer Lightwood, his first name displaying his class and his second showing his seemingly casual stance toward finding clients. Ah, they all became friends, waiting for me as I hurried home from work each evening.
Some will argue that this is Dickens' greatest work. It's always difficult for me to choose, as everytime I finish one of his masterworks, I decide that book was his best. For now, I have no Boffins to come home to, as they now sit on the completed shelf, waiting for me, or some other lucky denizen, to walk by in the future and scoop them up again.
Book Season = Winter (Dickens just seems to be made for that time of year)