Sunday, April 20, 2014

Charles Dickens, David Copperfield

Charles Dickens, David Copperfield. One of the few books I ever refused to finish as a child - I was deeply disgusted by Uriah Heep and irritated with Little Eml'y. I still have complicated feelings about Dickens - love, frustration, exasperation, anger - but I do enjoy revisiting him on occasion. D.C. was much much funnier than I remembered and Betsy Trotwood nearly made up for the horrible Eml'y and Dora. And as the ridiculous coincidences pile up the slapped-on sentimentality acquires its own hilarity.  But really, nothing like Dickens to make one glad one is not living in Victorian England without a penis.

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