Dickensblog

Dickens is to now as Austen was to the '90s?

So suggests Scott Timberg, in the Los Angeles Times:

Novelist Charles Dickens, who died in 1870 at 58, has taken a beating over the years. But he appears to be having the last laugh -- and not just because he's gone from being the most popular writer of the Victorian age to the era's best-read emissary for contemporary readers. He's become to the boom-and-bust early 21st century what Jane Austen was to the roaring, chick-lit-besotted '90s.

Not that I have anything against Jane Austen -- I'm a big fan, in fact -- but this is an interesting theory, and a very good piece. My favorite part: 

"Masterpiece's" [Rebecca] Eaton wonders if some of Dickens' hopefulness will get through to people. "He had an almost romantic sense that love will see you through. That may be what's happening to people now -- after being hypnotized by money, we're snapping out of it. He showed people striving to survive and be good when money was pulling them along."

Thanks to Chris for the link.

'Little Dorrit,' part three

I have here in my notes, "Flintwich doesn't pronounce his name right!" That was before I checked the book and realized that, in fact, the name is Flintwinch, and I've been reading it wrong for the past ten or fifteen years. *Blush*

Poor Affery trying to pour the tea is a scream! I do like the way Mrs. Clennam is overcrowing Rigaud/Blandois. Not that I'm a fan of her character at all, but he needs to be overcrowed, and frequently.

Hmm, nice little scene there with Arthur and Frederick Dorrit. I wonder exactly how much Frederick is supposed to know? (The book isn't quite clear on that, if I remember correctly.) Not much, I suppose, or he'd be like the butler in Spider-Man 3 blurting out, "Oh, guess what, I knew everything all along and could have set everyone straight long ago!" But you never know; Frederick is supposed to be pretty lost in the fog all the time, so it's just possible he knows quite a lot and it would never even occur to him to reveal it. And now I'm probably saying too much for those of you who don't know the story, so we'll leave that topic there. . . .

Oh, here goes Arthur with the "I'm old and she needed someone younger" bit. Glad they got that in there. He doesn't seem to be dwelling on it to the extent that he does in the book, but he does need to at least mention it to indicate what's going on in his mind.

Drunk Pancks is a sight to behold! I am loving this guy. His character development has been wonderfully done.

Mrs. Merdle is much better in this scene with Mrs. Gowan. This elaborate little masquerade suits her better than the spitfire act she was doing in the scene with Fanny. I like the Mr. Merdle/parrot scene too (though I kept waiting for the parrot to bite him, as in the book. I'm kind of glad it didn't. I hate watching animal attacks of any kind, even staged ones).

Happy Easter!

But Mary Magdalene remained outside the sepulchre, weeping. After a little time, she stooped down, and looked in, and saw Two angels, clothed in white, sitting where the body of Christ had lain. These said to her, "Woman, why weepest Thou?" She answered, "Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him." As she gave this answer, she turned round, and saw Jesus standing behind her, but did not Then know Him. "Woman," said He, "Why weepest Thou? what seekest thou?" She, supposing Him to be the gardener, replied, "Sir! If thou hast borne my Lord hence, tell me where Thou has laid him, and I will take him away." Jesus pronounced her name, "Mary." Then she knew him, and, starting, exclaimed "Master!"-- "Touch me not," said Christ; "for I am not yet ascended to my father; but go to my disciples, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and to your God!"

The Life of Our Lord, Chapter 11

Household words

We have a new design! I realize Dickens is Mr. Christmas and all, but it is April, and I was getting hungry for a bit of spring color or something. I played around with pastels and leafy designs . . . and then I found this. Not exactly springy, and orange isn't my favorite, but it's something different, and it seemed appropriate (there's the quill pen!). What do you think?

One other thing: I haven't been putting Amazon links in book titles for the most part, since it takes time, and most of the books that I mention are available via the widget on the side of the page anyway. But I think I'll start doing that, if not always, at least occasionally, because on further thought, I'm not sure the widget is always the most effective way to promote things. You usually have to do some scrolling through it before you can find what you're looking for. I'll keep it there, but I'll also try to make it a little easier to order books. Don't forget, every bit of Dickensiana you order via our Amazon links helps support this site.

See you tomorrow for part 3 of Little Dorrit!

Two thank-yous to PBS

First, for promising to forward my comment about the Maria Beadnell mix-up to their writers. And second, for posting a link to this site. (Though if Andrew Davies reads the PBS blog, boy, am I in trouble!)

Good Friday

Then he delivered Him to them to be crucified; and they, shouting and gathering round Him, and treating Him (who still prayed for them to God) with cruelty and insult, took Him away.

The Life of Our Lord, Chapter 10

Everything you need to know . . .

. . . you can learn from Charles Dickens.

(Hat tip to The Edgar A. Poe Calendar, which has an entertaining list along the same lines dedicated to its own patron writer.)

Dickensbag

As I participate in my church's Easter pageant these days, what do I use to carry makeup, safety pins, books, tissues, cough drops, and other essentials? Why, my trusty Dickens tote bag, of course!

I realize that this may be the post that sends some of my readers bolting for the exit with a cry of "Mommy, the crazy lady is scaring me!" For those who remain, I'd be happy to tell you how you could be just as obsessive have a bag just like mine, but unfortunately they don't seem to have them at the B&N website anymore. Anyway, truthfully, I think next time I might go for the green tote bag with all the literary quotes on it (can't find it on the site either, but I think they still have it at the stores). I'm terrible at keeping white things white, so the poor old Dickensbag is looking pretty dingy by now; green is probably a better choice for us messy people. Plus the green bag has quotes from A Tale of Two Cities, and also from Great Expectations, if I remember correctly. But if you're not a slob like me, you might want to go for this one or this one.

And if you're still thinking this is all a little over the top, look at it this way -- at least I don't own the Dickens action figure.

Yet.

One last remark I wish to make

A few leftover observations that didn't make it into Sunday's Little Dorrit post:

I really want to try writing with a quill pen now. I'm sure it's difficult until you get the hang of it, but it looks so cool. Besides, it can't possibly be more difficult than wrestling with TypePad and LiveJournal.

Speaking of LiveJournal, I cross-posted over there again, for those who are interested. 

And this LiveJournal review (second part of the one I liked so much last week) alerted me that I'd totally missed that it was Harriet Walter playing Mrs. Gowan! Don't I feel stupid! I really liked her as Harriet Vane in the Lord Peter Wimsey films, even though the films themselves left something to be desired, and have seen her in one or two other adaptations, but she always seems to take me by surprise. I guess she's one of those actresses who manages to disappear into a role, as the critics say. She's certainly doing an excellent job here.

And now, a deleted scene -- no, I don't mean a real deleted scene. One that didn't make it into the movie to begin with, but, as I mentioned before, should have.

When he had walked on the river's brink in the peaceful moonlight for some half an hour, he put his hand in his breast and tenderly took out the handful of roses. Perhaps he put them to his heart, perhaps he put them to his lips, but certainly he bent down on the shore and gently launched them on the flowing river. Pale and unreal in the moonlight, the river floated them away.

Little Dorrit, Book 1, Chapter 28

I know what I want for my birthday

"Dickens' Bleak House for sale for £2 million"