Charles Dickens - A Tale Of Two Cities

A tale of two cities grabs your heart, throws it out the window and then gives it back to you.

I finished reading this book only a few days ago, after a long long process of going through this short book. Firstly I was completely confused, even though the description of characters is very rich in this book, I did not know who is who and what part are they playing in the story until the very end of it.
The last book by Dickens I read was Oliver Twist and that was six years ago, so I suppose my fear of doom and gloom at the beginning of the book, made it more difficult for me to understand.

Doom and gloom did come, but I did not burst into tears nearly every other chapter as with Oliver Twist. This historical novel has so much to offer, starting with already previously mentioned rich characters, strong story line, and a very good historical description (in my opinion) of the time of the action.

Even though I was terribly lazy while reading this (that's why it took me three months to read this masterpiece) it does not mean there is something wrong with the book. I have a terrible habit of reading a few books at once as it makes it more interesting for me and also I find Dickens tiring.
Not tiring in the boring kind of way, or because my English is not good enough. Tiring because there is so much going on that my little head can't take it all in!

You can read more about this book on Wikipedia here. Or you can trust me and go out and buy the book. You won't go wrong, it's a classic!

And just to convince you even more. This beautiful novel has all the ingredients that a good novel needs, a love story, a tragedy, a war (a revolution to be exact) going on and strong characters, that will fill you up.

Now you know why these books are called classics!

"The wine was red wine and had stained the ground of the narrow street in the suburb of Saint Antoine, in Paris, where it was spilled. It had stained many hands, too and many faces, and many naked feet, and many wooden shoes. The hands of the man who sawed the wood, left red marks on the billets; and the forehead of the woman who nursed her baby, was stained with the stain of the old rag she wound about her head again. Those who had been greedy with the staves of the cask, had acquired a tigerish smear about the mouth; and one tall joker so besmirched, his head more out of a long squalid bag of a nightcap that in it, scrawled upon a wall his finger dipped in muddy wine-less --BLOOD."