This book could be subtitled "The Opium Wars." The stuff is everywhere. Osgood is lured into an opium den in search of clues, and nearly done away with; Francis continues to enforce the British trade in India (and it's horrid to read about how Indians could get in trouble for growing a little rice to keep from starving, when all the British wanted them to do was to grow more opium); near Gadshill, the local innkeeper's son has been lost to its siren song. And then there's "Datchery," Dickens's mesmerism patient who renamed himself after one of the author's characters: Why does he leave an opium poppy on Dickens's grave?
"I have come to be fond of you, Tom. Do not abandon saying your private prayers, as you likely do -- I never have myself, and I know the comfort of it. If I should live to publish more, I'd want you to read my books, whether or not you can make out that they have anything to do with your own life. Will you do it?"
"Yes," Tom said.
We also get a rather wild story about a stalker. In an essay for Borders (I think you may need a Borders Rewards membership to read it), Matthew Pearl writes, "As my work continued, in the crevices and corners of my research, I discovered there was an actual Dickens stalker at that exact time." Pretty fascinating discovery, but I doubt that stalker went to the lengths that this one in the book does!"Good, you will be a reader I am proud of." (p. 233)
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