Dickensblog

This is Flora

"Dear dear," said Flora, "only to think of the changes at home Arthur -- cannot overcome it, and seems so natural, Mr. Clennam far more proper -- since you became familiar with the Chinese customs and language which I am persuaded you speak like a Native if not better for you were always quick and clever though immensely difficult no doubt, I am sure the tea chests alone would kill me if I tried, such changes Arthur -- I am doing it again, seems so natural, most improper -- as no one could have believed, who could have ever imagined Mrs. Finching when I can't imagine it myself!"

"Is that your married name?" asked Arthur, struck, in the midst of all this, by a certain warmth of heart that expressed itself in her tone when she referred, however oddly, to the youthful relation in which they had stood to one another. "Finching?"

"Finching oh yes isn't it a dreadful name, but as Mr. F. said when he proposed to me which he did seven times and handsomely consented I must say to be what he used to call on liking twelve months, after all, he wasn't answerable for it and couldn't help it could he, Excellent man, not at all like you but excellent man!"

Little Dorrit, Book 1, Chapter 13

Hope and renewal

Laurel Ann Nattress of Austenprose has a very good post about Little Dorrit at PBS's Remotely Connected blog. It has spoilers, so you may not want to read it yet if you're not familiar with the story. (I can always post the link again once the miniseries is done, for those who want to wait.) But I can share an excerpt I particularly liked:

[Mrs. Clennam's] son Arthur Clennam and William Dorrit's daughter Amy are both victim's of their parent's bad choices. Arthur . . . recognizes his unhealthy indenture to his mother and breaks away from his debt to her for his upbringing, education and the only job he has every had in the family business. Inspired by the innocence and devotion of Amy Dorrit, a young woman who has chosen to serve others at her own expense, he is revitalized into starting a new life for himself, all the while trying to discover the mysterious connection between his fathers's dying wish and the Dorrit family. Amy 'Little Dorrit' at 22 has yet to understand the shackles that her birth and life in a debtor's prison have bound her to since she has experienced little else. Though their families and society have imprisoned them, their individual spirit and resolve guides them through their difficulties. This is the thread of hope that fuels this dark story. Through these two characters, Dickens shows us that even under extreme adversity, that the individual and society can renew itself.

'Little Dorrit,' part one

There's one thing you should know going into this: I have a sort of a love/hate feeling about adapter Andrew Davies. (If you read my NRO review, you probably will have picked up on that.) He can be so incredibly good at bringing great works to life on the screen, and then he can turn around and be so coarse or tin-eared that he drives me up the wall. Please don't mind if I have a little one-sided discussion with him here and there; it's normal. (For me, I mean. Probably not for anyone else in the world.) 

And I hope you won't mind my rambling, either. This is going to be way longer than my previous remarks on Dickens adaptations. There are an awful lot of details I wasn't able to fit into that NRO piece!

On with the show . . .

***

Mrs. Clennam's house is just exactly right. And so are Affery and Jeremiah, even to the head constantly on one side. I like this little flute (or piccolo?) motif they're using for Amy. (Note to self: Find out if the soundtrack is being made available.)

I will admit straight off that Matthew Macfadyen is a mite young to be playing 40-year-old Arthur. But then, if Derek Jacobi could play him when he was 50 (and looking -- how shall I put this? -- a good bit older than 50), why not go in the other direction and let a 33 year old take a crack at the role? Besides, for all the "Woe is me, I'm so old" attitude that Arthur takes up later in the story, he's actually supposed to be "young in appearance." Works for me!

Pet was never the sharpest knife in the drawer, but they've made her a total ditz. And a blonde. Coincidence? . . . All right, I'll stay away from the blonde jokes. But I do think that if an author makes a character a brunette, she ought to stay a brunette. Brunettes of the world, unite! 

Freema Agyeman makes an excellent Tattycoram, with all that half-suppressed rage (wish they'd taken a moment to explain her name and why Miss Wade calls her "Harriet"). It seems silly to suggest, though, that she wouldn't have known originally why the Meagles family was taking her. It wasn't such an uncommon thing for a child or adolescent to be taken in on a servant basis. You see the idea in plenty of older books (Anne of Green Gables, for one), and even though we don't see it as a good idea now, to put it mildly, at least the Meagleses are kind to her, giving her a huge advantage over many other orphans in her situation. Their biggest fault is a lack of understanding, not a lack of kindness or sincerity.

Tom Courtenay is marvelous with that monotone of his. They're blending an awful lot from the book into one scene with the Dorrits here, but it's working, at least until they go a little overboard with the exposition. Amy's "I love you as you are" is perfect -- the keynote of her character, in fact.

This is a terrific little scene between Arthur and the waiter. I didn't list him in the credits because his part is so small, but a shout-out to Jonathan Slinger for infusing this tiny role with so much energy and interest. Very Dickensian of him to throw such a spotlight on a minor character. As for Macfadyen, his facial expressions here, showing Arthur shriveling up at the thought of facing his mother, are wonderful. 

'Little Dorrit' in brief

Original air date: 2008 on BBC One

Starring Claire Foy (Amy Dorrit), Matthew Macfadyen (Arthur Clennam), Tom Courtenay (William Dorrit), Andy Serkis (Rigaud), Eddie Marsan (Pancks), Russell Tovey (Young John Chivery), James Fleet (Frederick Dorrit), Emma Pierson (Fanny Dorrit), Sebastian Armesto (Edmund Sparkler), Arthur Darvill (Tip Dorrit), Judy Parfitt (Mrs. Clennam), Alun Armstrong (Jeremiah and Ephraim Flintwinch), Sue Johnston (Affery), Eve Myles (Maggy), Jason Thorpe (Cavalletto), Ron Cook (Mr. Chivery), Georgia King (Pet), Freema Agyeman (Tattycoram), Bill Paterson (Mr. Meagles), Janine Duvitsiki (Mrs. Meagles), Alex Wyndham (Henry Gowan), Zubin Varla (Daniel Doyce), Amanda Redman (Mrs. Merdle), Anton Lesser (Mr. Merdle), Maxine Peake (Miss Wade), Robert Hardy (Tite Barnacle), Darren Boyd (Tite Barnacle, Jr.), Ruth Jones (Flora Finching), John Alderton (Mr. Casby), Annette Crosbie (Mr. F's Aunt), Jason Watkins (Mr. Plornish), Rosie Cavaliero (Mrs. Plornish), Geoff McGivern (Rugg), Nicholas Blane (Lawyer), Geoffrey Whitehead (Doctor)

Adapted by Andrew Davies

Directed by Dearbhla Walsh, Adam Smith, and Diarmuid Lawrence

From the PBS page: 

Amy Dorrit's (Claire Foy) gentle spirit has never been dampened by the confining walls of the Marshalsea Prison she's lived in her whole life. Despite the dark shadow of debtor's prison, Amy lovingly cares for her father William Dorrit (Tom Courtenay), the longest serving inmate. A possibly redemptive light unexpectedly shines in the form of Arthur Clennam (Matthew Macfadyen), who has been left with the intriguing threads of a mystery after his father's death — threads that will intertwine his family and fate with the Dorrits. Clennam's exhaustive search for answers involves murder, fortunes gained and lost, the upper echelons and lowest dregs of society, and most surprising of all, a tender romance. Adapted by Andrew Davies (Bleak House, Pride and Prejudice), Little Dorrit, based on the book by Charles Dickens, is a sprawling story as timely as it is moving.

Amy and Arthur

She wondered what he was thinking of, as he looked at Maggy and her. She thought what a good father he would be. How, with some such look, he would counsel and cherish his daughter.

Little Dorrit, Book 1, Chapter 14

This is one of my favorite passages in the whole novel. There are so many layers to it. There's a poignancy in it because Amy has had so little counseling and cherishing from her own father, much as she adores him. There's an added poignancy to it because at this point Arthur, poor clueless dear, is still thinking of Amy as something of a daughter figure. But above all, I think it just says a lot about a man to think that he would be a good father. In fact, I think it's one of the highest compliments that could be paid to any man.

My review of Little Dorrit the miniseries is now up at National Review Online. (Thanks to Shannon for the kind words about it!) But I'll be doing my usual stream-of-consciousness posting about it over the next five Sundays, using the notes I took for the review. So be sure to drop by after the show, and feel free to share your own thoughts in the comment section!

Arthur Clennam

He was a dreamer in such wise, because he was a man who had, deep-rooted in his nature, a belief in all the gentle and good things his life had been without. Bred in meanness and hard dealing, this had rescued him to be a man of honourable mind and open hand. Bred in coldness and severity, this had rescued him to have a warm and sympathetic heart. Bred in a creed too darkly audacious to pursue, through its process of reserving the making of man in the image of his Creator to the making of his Creator in the image of an erring man, this had rescued him to judge not, and in humility to be merciful, and have hope and charity.

And this saved him still from the whimpering weakness and cruel selfishness of holding that because such a happiness or such a virtue had not come into his little path, or worked well for him, therefore it was not in the great scheme, but was reducible, when found in appearance, to the basest elements. A disappointed mind he had, but a mind too firm and healthy for such unwholesome air. Leaving himself in the dark, it could rise into the light, seeing it shine on others and hailing it.

Little Dorrit, Book 1, Chapter 13

Amy Dorrit

Worldly wise in hard and poor necessities, she was innocent in all else. Innocent, in the mist through which she saw her father, and the prison, and the turbid living river that flowed through it and flowed on.

Little Dorrit, Book 1, Chapter 7

Shhhh

The publicity materials that came with my Little Dorrit screener state, "Charles Dickens gave Jane Austen, mistress of the slow-burning romance, a run for her money with his smoldering, sprawling, much neglected love story, Little Dorrit." 

Nobody tell the Austenbloggers. ;-)

Starting tomorrow I'll be running a series of mini-character sketches from the novel, leading up to D-Day on Sunday! In the meantime, here's a short clip from PBS via YouTube to whet your appetite.

'The Last Dickens': the conclusion

"I hold my father," she said softly, "in my heart of hearts as a man apart from all other men, as one apart from all other human beings." (p. 267)

I finished the book this weekend. The mystery wrapped up satisfyingly, incorporating many details of the story that had originally seemed trivial but fell neatly and believably into place when the truth came out. (Many of those details, the Historical Note tells us, were grounded in reality.) And the truth itself -- well, let's just say it was a pretty cool idea that Matthew Pearl came up with here! Secret identities, fake clues, and of course the ever-present opium all play a role, and not all of those who are after The Mystery of Edwin Drood are simply lovers of literature or of money.

Going back to what I said the other day, Dickens himself, with all his virtues and flaws, was the best characterization in the book. On the other hand, I'm inclined to say Rebecca was probably the least successful.

"Do you think if I loved a man, I would allow paper constraints, words in some law book, to stop me, no matter the consequences?" In the passion of her speech, a curl of her raven hair had fallen from her bonnet and clung to her lip. (p. 315)

Um, yeah, I kind of did think that. The point was made pretty often. Besides which, on the whole, Rebecca struck me as rather, well, stolid. And you don't go from stolid to sexy-librarian-type (or bookkeeper-type) in 0.5 seconds, at least not without dropping a hint or two beforehand.

But that's a minor matter. Most of the main characters were well done. I particularly would have liked to see more of Frank Dickens. He never did resolve his daddy issues, but that's okay -- some people never do. And not every plotline in a book needs to be tied up in a neat little bow. But I still would have liked to get more insight into Frank's thinking. Though he does get a chance to speak on behalf of the British empire regarding the drug trade -- and a sobering speech it is.

"You don't seem to recognize, Mr. Turner, that it is our responsibility to ensure that the opium trade moves freely through Bengal and to China. In contributing to its disruption, you contribute to those who wish the European success around the world to fail. You leave room for smugglers and traders far less reputable than those our government chooses to make partners in these endeavors -- harming not only the English, but the natives in India, in China, around the globe. It is Bengal's right to share in the prosperity of civilization." (p. 325)

By making them partners in poisoning people. Nice rationalization there, Frank. But unfortunately, not an unfamiliar line of argument, even today.

But despite the many motivations of the various characters -- fear, greed, love, envy, loyalty -- I think that at the heart of The Last Dickens is the love for stories and for those who give them to us. That's what stays with the reader after the book is closed.

"And it was as though he had, for a few more seconds, kept Charles Dickens alive." (p. 335)

Again, the Amazon link to The Last Dickens is here. And while I'm at it, here's one for The Mystery of Edwin Drood.

Tomorrow: more on Little Dorrit, as we prepare for its kickoff this Sunday!

About that stalker

Matthew Pearl tells the TimesOnline that at least one of his fictional stalker's exploits is based on reality. Well and good -- or rather, not well at all for the poor victim -- but I maintain that what comes after that in the story is pretty out there, though it makes for one or two good action scenes.

(And please note that I had not seen the use of "rock star" applied to Dickens on his reading tours before I wrote my blog entry -- because the Times piece had not yet been written! In any event, I do love Pearl's use of "British invasion.")