Ranking the Novels of Dickens

[BAYLOR]

On post #81, you told us the same thing, except you also said you'd read Oliver Twist. You didn't rank or comment on them then either. This is a thread to comment on the books - that's more interesting than just providing a list I think.

Yes , I actually did read Oliver Twist, I forgot to put it list . I also forgot that I had previously post the list on this thread.

Your right a simple list is not enough of s contribution . On that list my favorite is Tale of Two Cites . My least favorite was Oliver Twist,

 

[richardmscorp]

I have really enjoyed reading this thread and (mostly) agreeing with the sentiments expressed.

I started my own Dickens journey when I moved back into my mothers house at age 22 for a short while. I found myself sleeping on a sofa bed in her study, next to the bookshelf. Not being able to sleep one night, I picked up Great Expectations for something to read, and have never looked back.

I have now read all of his full novels with the exception of Edwin Drood (I don't like starting a book that doesn't finish - I tried it with the Salmon of Doubt by Douglas Adams and couldn't bear not knowing what happened next). Most of them I have read at least twice and I have never read an author that has managed to pull at my heart strings so successfully or allowed me such an insight into a society that is, to a certain extent, alien to me.

I find it difficult to rank the books, as that depends on my state of mind at the time, but some of them stand out as what can only be described as "timeless classics" although I feel that moniker is applied too often to books that may not deserve it. Not the case for Dickens. So rather than rank them, here are a few of my thoughts on each one:

Pickwick Papers - possibly the one I found hardest to read. This is probably due to the fact that, as a first book, CD had yet to settle down into the consummate story teller that he was to become. Having said that, the characterisations of Sam Weller (and his father) still amuse me and the meeting of Pickwick with Alfred Jingle in debtors prison was genuinely emotional (especially when the book, up that point, had been obviously a comedy). This change of pace is something that CD does so very well.

Oliver Twist - Before reading this one you have to try and forget any and all screen adaptations that have been made, as none of them do justice to the book. Again, as an early work, the descriptive passages are not as well crafted as later books, but having said that, the description of London's underbelly give you an insight into what early Victorian life may have been like. The two "stand out" passages in the book are the murder of Nancy (the uncontrollable rage and then mental anguish that follow) and the mental collapse of Fagin in the condemned cell make up for some of the more weak characterisations (especially Oliver himself).

Nicholas Nickleby - I would say this is the first book where CD had settled down into his own style. Excellent characterisation and a masterful plot. Although the journey of Nicholas is the main thread of the book, I found myself more drawn to the story of Kate and the pure wickedness of Ralph. In this book we also see CDs ability to create secondary narratives that stand alone, but also support the main plot - in this case the fate of Lord Verisopht who finally stood up to a bully and charlatan for the honour of a defenceless young woman, only to pay the ultimate price.

The Old Curiosity Shop - the main story of Nell, although heart-breaking, was not what makes this a masterpiece (maybe a little too sentimental) even though I am used to a story with a less than happy ending (thinking of LOTR), but I think that Quilp is possibly the best villain in his books and the journey of Dick Swiveller is so satisfying it makes up for the weaker parts of the novel (I have actually spent time on the south bank of the Thames in London, trying to work out where Quilps yard was located).

Barnaby Rudge - I knew little about the anti-popery riots of the late 18th century, but it proves to be an excellent backdrop to this tale. CD highlights how easy it is to be swept up in something you don't really understand, as Barnaby is throughout the book. I would probably rank this in the bottom half of my list, but not really due to any weakness in the book itself, but just due to how strong the competition is from his later works.

Martin Chuzzlewit - I loved this one. The dastardly Pecksniff who is happy to sacrifice his own family for personal gain, the downfall of Jonas through greed, the descriptions of America which got CD into some trouble on reading tours (although, let's be fair, he doesn't exactly paint the English as paragons of virtue) and the satisfying ending all add up to an excellent read.

Dombey and Son - I found this the most heavy going of the books (although with some of the best characters - the perceived tension between Captain Cuttle and Mrs MacStinger and the innocence of Mr Toots). I think the reason for the heaviness is the pure misogyny of Dombey, especially against his own "perfect" daughter Florence (maybe having two daughters of my own - one called Florence - made this more infuriating).

David Copperfield - I won't repeat what others have said, but I totally agree that the first third and the last third of the book are excellent. I seemed to spend most of the middle shouting "what about Agnes?" at the page.

Bleak House - one of the two that are probably my favourites. I initially found the change of narration a little jarring, but soon you understand that it allowed CD to delve into emotions and feelings from Esther's point of view which he couldn't necessarily do when written in the third person. But the intelligent evil of Tulkinghorn and the deviousness of Smallweed stand out as some of his best characterisations. The story and plot are so well crafted that you really don't notice how long the book is while reading it.

Hard Times - Didn't really enjoy this as much as the others. There is nothing wrong with the plot or the characters, but for some reason it just didn't grab me.

Little Dorrit - this is the other one of my two favourites. Having worked with quite a lot of the UK public sector, the circumlocution office was immediately recognisable. The way in which we, as a nation, treated those who had fallen on hard times and the ingratitude and privilege of wealth (especially newly found wealth) is a stark reminder of the flaws within us all.

A Tale of Two Cities - Although not enormously historically accurate, this book, along with Barnaby Rudge, shines a bright light on the way human nature can be twisted and corrupted through external factors. The "terror" of late 18th century France must have ben truly horrific and this book does convey some of that horror and I am not too proud to admit that (although I knew what was coming) I found the final chapters very hard to read (due to the tears in my eyes). Not necessarily the bravery and sacrifice of Sydney Carton (although partly that) but mostly the confusion and despair of the seamstress on the tumbril - not sure why she is there but facing her fate with fortitude thanks to Sydney.

Great Expectations - this is where I came in. I wouldn't put this in my favourites list but the description of the cruelty and revenge of Miss Haversham, the way in which class defined who you were and who you could engage with is second to none in this book.

Our Mutual Friend - A close third in my favourites list and, for me, possibly the best plot. It has a little of everything - class distinction, destructive characters, greed and avarice, jealousy and betrayal. But also comedy - you can almost picture Silas Wegg and Mr Venus in the dark room, surrounded by stuffed animals and body parts.

So that about wraps it up - I had only intended to write a quick response, but once you get me started on Dickens, I find it difficult to stop.

As a final thought - Audible do have all of the unabridged reading of the books. I found it useful to read the book first, then listen to the Audible version (mainly to get past all of the long sentences and fractured clauses) then re-read the book. I would also very highly recommend the recent BBC adaptations of both Bleak House and Little Dorrit (and to a lesser extent Our Mutual Friend). They are quite long to watch, but the BBC do an excellent costume drama and they take enough time to tell the story properly.

Thanks for indulging me

 

[Christine Wheelwright]

A Christmas Carol deserves a mention, although technically it is a novella not a novel. Of the others, Great Expectations and Oliver Twist would rank as my favorites. Both quite accessible works.

 

[Bick]

I have really enjoyed reading this thread and (mostly) agreeing with the sentiments expressed.

I started my own Dickens journey when I moved back into my mothers house at age 22 for a short while. I found myself sleeping on a sofa bed in her study, next to the bookshelf. Not being able to sleep one night, I picked up Great Expectations for something to read, and have never looked back.

I have now read all of his full novels with the exception of Edwin Drood (I don't like starting a book that doesn't finish - I tried it with the Salmon of Doubt by Douglas Adams and couldn't bear not knowing what happened next). Most of them I have read at least twice and I have never read an author that has managed to pull at my heart strings so successfully or allowed me such an insight into a society that is, to a certain extent, alien to me.

I find it difficult to rank the books, as that depends on my state of mind at the time, but some of them stand out as what can only be described as "timeless classics" although I feel that moniker is applied too often to books that may not deserve it. Not the case for Dickens. So rather than rank them, here are a few of my thoughts on each one:

Pickwick Papers - possibly the one I found hardest to read. This is probably due to the fact that, as a first book, CD had yet to settle down into the consummate story teller that he was to become. Having said that, the characterisations of Sam Weller (and his father) still amuse me and the meeting of Pickwick with Alfred Jingle in debtors prison was genuinely emotional (especially when the book, up that point, had been obviously a comedy). This change of pace is something that CD does so very well.

Oliver Twist - Before reading this one you have to try and forget any and all screen adaptations that have been made, as none of them do justice to the book. Again, as an early work, the descriptive passages are not as well crafted as later books, but having said that, the description of London's underbelly give you an insight into what early Victorian life may have been like. The two "stand out" passages in the book are the murder of Nancy (the uncontrollable rage and then mental anguish that follow) and the mental collapse of Fagin in the condemned cell make up for some of the more weak characterisations (especially Oliver himself).

Nicholas Nickleby - I would say this is the first book where CD had settled down into his own style. Excellent characterisation and a masterful plot. Although the journey of Nicholas is the main thread of the book, I found myself more drawn to the story of Kate and the pure wickedness of Ralph. In this book we also see CDs ability to create secondary narratives that stand alone, but also support the main plot - in this case the fate of Lord Verisopht who finally stood up to a bully and charlatan for the honour of a defenceless young woman, only to pay the ultimate price.

The Old Curiosity Shop - the main story of Nell, although heart-breaking, was not what makes this a masterpiece (maybe a little too sentimental) even though I am used to a story with a less than happy ending (thinking of LOTR), but I think that Quilp is possibly the best villain in his books and the journey of Dick Swiveller is so satisfying it makes up for the weaker parts of the novel (I have actually spent time on the south bank of the Thames in London, trying to work out where Quilps yard was located).

Barnaby Rudge - I knew little about the anti-popery riots of the late 18th century, but it proves to be an excellent backdrop to this tale. CD highlights how easy it is to be swept up in something you don't really understand, as Barnaby is throughout the book. I would probably rank this in the bottom half of my list, but not really due to any weakness in the book itself, but just due to how strong the competition is from his later works.

Martin Chuzzlewit - I loved this one. The dastardly Pecksniff who is happy to sacrifice his own family for personal gain, the downfall of Jonas through greed, the descriptions of America which got CD into some trouble on reading tours (although, let's be fair, he doesn't exactly paint the English as paragons of virtue) and the satisfying ending all add up to an excellent read.

Dombey and Son - I found this the most heavy going of the books (although with some of the best characters - the perceived tension between Captain Cuttle and Mrs MacStinger and the innocence of Mr Toots). I think the reason for the heaviness is the pure misogyny of Dombey, especially against his own "perfect" daughter Florence (maybe having two daughters of my own - one called Florence - made this more infuriating).

David Copperfield - I won't repeat what others have said, but I totally agree that the first third and the last third of the book are excellent. I seemed to spend most of the middle shouting "what about Agnes?" at the page.

Bleak House - one of the two that are probably my favourites. I initially found the change of narration a little jarring, but soon you understand that it allowed CD to delve into emotions and feelings from Esther's point of view which he couldn't necessarily do when written in the third person. But the intelligent evil of Tulkinghorn and the deviousness of Smallweed stand out as some of his best characterisations. The story and plot are so well crafted that you really don't notice how long the book is while reading it.

Hard Times - Didn't really enjoy this as much as the others. There is nothing wrong with the plot or the characters, but for some reason it just didn't grab me.

Little Dorrit - this is the other one of my two favourites. Having worked with quite a lot of the UK public sector, the circumlocution office was immediately recognisable. The way in which we, as a nation, treated those who had fallen on hard times and the ingratitude and privilege of wealth (especially newly found wealth) is a stark reminder of the flaws within us all.

A Tale of Two Cities - Although not enormously historically accurate, this book, along with Barnaby Rudge, shines a bright light on the way human nature can be twisted and corrupted through external factors. The "terror" of late 18th century France must have ben truly horrific and this book does convey some of that horror and I am not too proud to admit that (although I knew what was coming) I found the final chapters very hard to read (due to the tears in my eyes). Not necessarily the bravery and sacrifice of Sydney Carton (although partly that) but mostly the confusion and despair of the seamstress on the tumbril - not sure why she is there but facing her fate with fortitude thanks to Sydney.

Great Expectations - this is where I came in. I wouldn't put this in my favourites list but the description of the cruelty and revenge of Miss Haversham, the way in which class defined who you were and who you could engage with is second to none in this book.

Our Mutual Friend - A close third in my favourites list and, for me, possibly the best plot. It has a little of everything - class distinction, destructive characters, greed and avarice, jealousy and betrayal. But also comedy - you can almost picture Silas Wegg and Mr Venus in the dark room, surrounded by stuffed animals and body parts.

So that about wraps it up - I had only intended to write a quick response, but once you get me started on Dickens, I find it difficult to stop.

As a final thought - Audible do have all of the unabridged reading of the books. I found it useful to read the book first, then listen to the Audible version (mainly to get past all of the long sentences and fractured clauses) then re-read the book. I would also very highly recommend the recent BBC adaptations of both Bleak House and Little Dorrit (and to a lesser extent Our Mutual Friend). They are quite long to watch, but the BBC do an excellent costume drama and they take enough time to tell the story properly.

Thanks for indulging me

Super summaries, many thanks.

 

[AE35Unit]

A Christmas Carol deserves a mention, although technically it is a novella not a novel.

It is easily my favourite Dickens

 

[Extollager]

One of the attractions, for me, of Dickens, is one he wouldn't have anticipated. It's his way of describing the activities of characters who are basically modern people like ourselves, who took for granted a degree of liberty (in some things) that for us is like that of people in fairy tales. For example, in Oliver Twist, as I recall, someone can just take a homeless orphan into his home and unofficially adopt him without any bureaucratic red tape. In The Old Curiosity Shop, a young girl and her grandfather can simply close the shop and walk out of London and head west, without ID, with credit cards, etc. Of course we can see that there is a degree of vulnerability in these situations that we would not tolerate, yet I think it must have some attraction, for some readers, as a social arrangement now as lost as Atlantis.

I was struck by these two paragraphs from A. J. P. Talor's English History, 1914-1945, quoted in Prof. Alan Jacobs's blog (his highlighting). Would you agree that this sort of thing is part of an attractiveness now, from some of Dickens's writing, that he never would have anticipated?

Until August 1914 a sensible, law-abiding Englishman could pass through life and hardly notice the existence of the state, beyond the post office and the policeman. He could live where he liked and as he liked. He had no official number or identity card. He could travel abroad or leave his country for ever without a passport or any sort of official permission. He could exchange his money for any other currency without restriction or limit. He could buy goods from any country in the world on the same terms as he bought goods at home. For that matter, a foreigner could spend his life in this country without permit and without informing the police. Unlike the countries of the European continent, the state did not require its citizens to perform military service. An Englishman could enlist, if he chose, in the regular army, the navy, or the territorials. He could also ignore, if he chose, the demands of national defence. Substantial householders were occasionally called on for jury service. Otherwise, only those helped the state who wished to do so. The Englishman paid taxes on a modest scale: nearly £200 million in 1913-14, or rather less than 8 per cent. of the national income. The state intervened to prevent the citizen from eating adulterated food or contracting certain infectious diseases. It imposed safety rules in factories, and prevented women, and adult males in some industries, from working excessive hours. The state saw to it that children received education up to the age of 13. Since I January 1909, it provided a meagre pension for the needy over the age of 70. Since 1911, it helped to insure certain classes of workers against sickness and unemployment. This tendency towards more state action was increasing. Expenditure on the social services had roughly doubled since the Liberals took office in 1905. Still, broadly speaking, the state acted only to help those who could not help themselves. It left the adult citizen alone.

All this was changed by the impact of the Great War. The mass of the people became, for the first time, active citizens. Their lives were shaped by orders from above; they were required to serve the state instead of pursuing exclusively their own affairs. Five million men entered the armed forces, many of them (though a minority) under compulsion. The Englishman’s food was limited, and its quality changed, by government order. His freedom of movement was restricted; his conditions of work prescribed. Some industries were reduced or closed, others artificially fostered. The publication of news was fettered. Street lights were dimmed. The sacred freedom of drinking was tampered with: licensed hours were cut down, and the beer watered by order. The very time on the clocks was changed. From 1916 onwards, every Englishman got up an hour earlier in summer than he would otherwise have done, thanks to an act of parliament. The state established a hold over its citizens which, though relaxed in peacetime, was never to be removed and which the second World war was again to increase. The history of the English state and of the English people merged for the first time.

 

[Extollager]

PS: Now, the next question might be -- if my premise is accepted: Does this liberty element figure in our ranking of Dickens's novels? Is it a factor that tends to raise a given novel in our esteem over against novels that lack it? But maybe first we would want to identify which novels have this liberty element. I'm not going to undertake that element right now, but I'll bet it's there in a lot of them, though not, I suppose, in, say, Edwin Drood. But having said that, I'll mention something Taylor doesn't mention, namely that people before the Great War could, I suppose, generally walk in the towns and cities at night without being passed by cars. Autos would have just been coming in then, and of course were nonexistent in Dickens's time.

 

[Bick]

One of the attractions, for me, of Dickens, is one he wouldn't have anticipated. It's his way of describing the activities of characters who are basically modern people like ourselves, who took for granted a degree of liberty (in some things) that for us is like that of people in fairy tales. For example, in Oliver Twist, as I recall, someone can just take a homeless orphan into his home and unofficially adopt him without any bureaucratic red tape. In The Old Curiosity Shop, a young girl and her grandfather can simply close the shop and walk out of London and head west, without ID, with credit cards, etc. Of course we can see that there is a degree of vulnerability in these situations that we would not tolerate, yet I think it must have some attraction, for some readers, as a social arrangement now as lost as Atlantis.

I was struck by these two paragraphs from A. J. P. Talor's English History, 1914-1945, quoted in Prof. Alan Jacobs's blog (his highlighting). Would you agree that this sort of thing is part of an attractiveness now, from some of Dickens's writing, that he never would have anticipated?

Until August 1914 a sensible, law-abiding Englishman could pass through life and hardly notice the existence of the state, beyond the post office and the policeman. He could live where he liked and as he liked. He had no official number or identity card. He could travel abroad or leave his country for ever without a passport or any sort of official permission. He could exchange his money for any other currency without restriction or limit. He could buy goods from any country in the world on the same terms as he bought goods at home. For that matter, a foreigner could spend his life in this country without permit and without informing the police. Unlike the countries of the European continent, the state did not require its citizens to perform military service. An Englishman could enlist, if he chose, in the regular army, the navy, or the territorials. He could also ignore, if he chose, the demands of national defence. Substantial householders were occasionally called on for jury service. Otherwise, only those helped the state who wished to do so. The Englishman paid taxes on a modest scale: nearly £200 million in 1913-14, or rather less than 8 per cent. of the national income. The state intervened to prevent the citizen from eating adulterated food or contracting certain infectious diseases. It imposed safety rules in factories, and prevented women, and adult males in some industries, from working excessive hours. The state saw to it that children received education up to the age of 13. Since I January 1909, it provided a meagre pension for the needy over the age of 70. Since 1911, it helped to insure certain classes of workers against sickness and unemployment. This tendency towards more state action was increasing. Expenditure on the social services had roughly doubled since the Liberals took office in 1905. Still, broadly speaking, the state acted only to help those who could not help themselves. It left the adult citizen alone.

All this was changed by the impact of the Great War. The mass of the people became, for the first time, active citizens. Their lives were shaped by orders from above; they were required to serve the state instead of pursuing exclusively their own affairs. Five million men entered the armed forces, many of them (though a minority) under compulsion. The Englishman’s food was limited, and its quality changed, by government order. His freedom of movement was restricted; his conditions of work prescribed. Some industries were reduced or closed, others artificially fostered. The publication of news was fettered. Street lights were dimmed. The sacred freedom of drinking was tampered with: licensed hours were cut down, and the beer watered by order. The very time on the clocks was changed. From 1916 onwards, every Englishman got up an hour earlier in summer than he would otherwise have done, thanks to an act of parliament. The state established a hold over its citizens which, though relaxed in peacetime, was never to be removed and which the second World war was again to increase. The history of the English state and of the English people merged for the first time.

Fascinating idea, and yes, I think I agree, with regard to it being part of the general appeal.

 

[Bick]

PS: Now, the next question might be -- if my premise is accepted: Does this liberty element figure in our ranking of Dickens's novels? Is it a factor that tends to raise a given novel in our esteem over against novels that lack it? But maybe first we would want to identify which novels have this liberty element. I'm not going to undertake that element right now, but I'll bet it's there in a lot of them, though not, I suppose, in, say, Edwin Drood. But having said that, I'll mention something Taylor doesn't mention, namely that people before the Great War could, I suppose, generally walk in the towns and cities at night without being passed by cars. Autos would have just been coming in then, and of course were nonexistent in Dickens's time.

I'm less sure it is critical in my rankings though. If you look though my ranking list, those at the bottom are those in which I find fault, and those at the top, their position is chiefly predicated on plotting and character. There is an intangible 'something' I love in Dicken's best works, that is neither character nor plot, but I'm not sure it's the sense of liberty. I think it's more akin to an otherworldly simplicity, wherein his characters are often imbued with depth, appeal and a zest for life, regardless of wealth or position.

 

[Bick]

One argument against the role of liberty being especially important to the quality or reception of his books, is perhaps that, in very literal terms, his characters not uncommonly have their liberty taken from them in ways that would not occur so much now (such as Pickwick going to Fleet prison for debts relating to 'breach of promise' to Mrs Bardell, or Micawber being sent to the debtor's prison in David Copperfield). The loss of Micawbers liberty doesn't seem to detract from Copperfield being one of his most popular and enduing novels. But perhaps these are too literal and/or are simply exceptions that prove your point. Interesting idea, I'll give it some thought.

 

[Bick]

It is easily my favourite Dickens

Have you read many of his novels with which to compare?

 

[Teresa Edgerton]

Unlike the countries of the European continent, the state did not require its citizens to perform military service. An Englishman could enlist, if he chose, in the regular army, the navy, or the territorials. He could also ignore, if he chose, the demands of national defence.

Have you forgotten the press gangs? Yes, upper and middle class men were not required to perform military service. But the lower classes could be—and often were—legally kidnapped into military service.

You say "The state intervened to prevent the citizen from eating adulterated food or contracting certain infectious diseases." Well they did an exceedingly poor job of it in both cases! Adulterated foods were everywhere, and disease was rampant. And as for " It imposed safety rules in factories, and prevented women, and adult males in some industries, from working excessive hours." It really depends on what you call excessive hours. And what about the unsafe working conditions that were allowed, and the unsafe jobs performed by small children?

Dickens appeals to me for his characters and plots, his use of language. Pardon me for briefly touching on gender issues, but that freedom you see comes from a man's perspective, and a man of a certain class at that. Women and children in general and men of the lower classes were so hemmed in by their (often wretched) circumstances, they had no way of taking advantage of such freedoms as you describe. And Dickens often wrote of the lower classes. If I took away any ideas about freedom in Dickens's writings, it was how little actual freedom so many people had in a supposedly free society.

Yet part of the joy of reading Dickens is those characters who, in spite of their dire conditions, found ways to make the best of things, the power of the human spirit which so many of his people represent in so many ways.

 

[Extollager]

In The Old Curiosity Shop, a young girl and her grandfather can simply close the shop and walk out of London and head west, without ID, with credit cards, etc.

without credit cards...

Nell (a young teenager, wasn't she?) and her infirm grandfather set out with, I suppose, a few shillings and pence, to walk from London ultimately to the West, perhaps Shropshire. The reader sympathizes with them in their dire plight, but also enjoys, vicariously,. the idea of the liberty to walk in a pre-automobile, pre-ID card, time.

Before the Great War and perhaps for a little while after, a little genre of books about "tramping" was published, by authors such as Stephen Graham. Stevenson's Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes (1879) and Belloc's The Path to Rome (1902) come to mind.

Of course, Nell and her grandfather are not out for a long walk to enjoy the liberty thereof. They are trying to walk away from their troubles, and he will die on the journey. But there's a tag, solvitur ambulando (it is solved by walking), that might be relevant.

Some readers skip the "walking bits" in The Lord of the Rings, but they are a great strength of the book.

In Pickwick Papers, Pickwick is thrown into prison. The loss of his liberty is all the more intensified because much of the book is about roaming freely, in a little group made up of fellows from various "classes."

 

[Extollager]

... Micawber being sent to the debtor's prison in David Copperfield). The loss of Micawbers liberty doesn't seem to detract from Copperfield being one of his most popular and enduing novels. But perhaps these are too literal and/or are simply exceptions that prove your point. Interesting idea, I'll give it some thought.

It's perhaps too long since I read this one, but doesn't David spend a lot of time walking quite freely? If walking at large comes across in the novels as something anyone should be able to do, then Micawber's being imprisoned could emphasize that.

 

[Extollager]

Have you forgotten the press gangs? Yes, upper and middle class men were not required to perform military service. But the lower classes could be—and often were—legally kidnapped into military service.

Yes, I had. I don't think they come up in any of Dickens's novels -- ? They're a fact of life in the Aubrey and Maturin novels if I'm not mistaken.

 

[Teresa Edgerton]

Yes, I had. I don't think they come up in any of Dickens's novels -- ? They're a fact of life in the Aubrey and Maturin novels if I'm not mistaken.

No, not that I can remember, either. But Dickens did not seem interested in writing about sea voyages, or about military life (except for one short story), so I don't think that press gangs would suit any of his plots. After all, once a character was impressed, he would have to instantly disappear from the story—unless Dickens was interested in following him to sea, which as I said, doesn't seem like the sort of thing he cared to write about.

I haven't read the Aubrey and Maturin novels, but I've read a number of others set during the Napoleonic wars, and press gangs naturally come up in such books from time to time. With the war on, Britain had to fill their ships with men, and I am afraid that they were not too scrupulous about how they managed it. And I've also read of soldiers recruited for the army by trickery.

As for people going for long journeys on foot in Dickens novels, I am afraid most of the examples I can think of are less appealing than those you mention. When David Copperfield leaves London to flee his horrible stepfather and find his Great-Aunt Betsy, he arrives at Miss Trotwood's door half-starved if I remember correctly. And Betty Higden, in Our Mutual Friend, who takes to the road as a peddlar to avoid the workhouse, ends up dying in Lizzie Hexam's arms. Also, when Abel Magwitch describes his life as a "tramping man" it doesn't sound like freedom so much as living a life where he finds welcome nowhere, a life of deprivation and being "moved along" by the authorities.

But against that, we do have Nicholas Nickleby, where Nicholas and Smike have the good fortune to fall in with the Crummles family travelling players, and that is a delightful interlude.

 

[Venusian Broon]

I went through a Dickens phase in my 20s. Helped by the fact that the local bookstores were selling classics for £1 each and, as a physics PhD, up till that point I had not been directed to classics literature in my high school English (Shakespeare of course, but in prose: 1984, The Lord of the Flies, Brave New World etc...) and I felt I needed to investigate and expand my knowledge of literature. As well as SFF, of course.

Fell in love with Dickens. As I was by then a 'mainstream' and avid SF fan, I sort of read Dickens as 'Steampunk-lite' Quickly got past the slightly different language and read virtually all of his published novels in a few years.

So I'd put my favourite top 3 as:

Bleak House
Barnaby Rudge
Our Mutual Friend

I know Barnaby Rudge is a bit of a left field choice, but I had read The Heart of Midlothian by Walter Scott before that, which has the Porteus Riots in Edinburgh, occupying the first part of the book, and this book, I believe, inspired Dickens to make this story including the Gordon riots in London. (The more you read your history, the more you realise that it seems natural for the inhabitants of the UK to riot!)

I think also I was attracted to it because it was relatively obscure, so felt more novel and fresh.

Our Mutual Friend was, in fact, the last of his I got round to reading, probably about ten years after the rest. At the time I was just watching (and getting a bit obsessed with Lost) So when eventually we get introduced to Desmond, the Scot in the bunker, he had a copy of Our Mutual Friend because he's read and loved all of Dickens but he wanted to leave this one fresh till he knew he was dying as this would be the last thing he read.

So maybe I died in 2004?

 

[Bick]

No, not that I can remember, either. But Dickens did not seem interested in writing about sea voyages, ... —unless Dickens was interested in following him to sea, which as I said, doesn't seem like the sort of thing he cared to write about.

He wrote about an Atlantic crossing in bad weather in Martin Chuzzlewit, with some relish over a period of many pages, so he wasn't averse to seagoing narratives. They didn't suit his land-based plots much though, that's true.