Saturday, March 29, 2008

Little Dorrit by Charles Dickens

Firstly I have to admit I am obsessed with Charles Dickens, I love the fact that all the books of his I read had a happy ending, yet I did not expect it until the very last page. Little Dorrit is yet another masterpiece showing everything that is marvellous about this man's writing. Rich, involving characters, a dose of misery and joy, a strong everlasting love, and pride.

From the beginning I was drawn into the universe of different time and space and curiously involved in the happenings of the Marshalsea prison. There are so many characters coming into the story so suddenly, that one might need to keep notes about who is who. Secrets are certainly in, in this story, but don't worry you'll work most of them out while approaching the last chapter. If you have read Dickens before, it should not come as a surprise that half the characters that he made you love in one way or another, will die once you get through the middle of the book, but that doesn't make it any worse as a book, it might bring a tear or two to your eyes, but not enough to overwhelm what is to come.

The main character, the young, pretty, petite and modest Little Dorrit, sometimes seems to be pushed out of the place of main character, but don't be mistaken, she isn't any less, it just shows how her surroundings view her.

It is a pleasant comfortable read, you don't need to eat, drink or if you smoke even a cigarette becomes too much of an effort to light while reading this book. However if you don't have much time, or have something else to do in a little while, do not pick up this book, as you might forget everything else.

"The morning light was in no hurry to climb the prison wall and look in at the Snuggery windows; and when it did come, it would have been more welcome if it had come alone, instead of bringing a rush of rain with it. But the equinoctial gales were blowing out at sea, and the impartial south-west wind, in its flight, would not neglect even the narrow Marshalsea. While it roared through the steeple of St. George's Church, and twirled all the cowls in the neighbourhood, it made a swoop to beat the Southwark smoke into the jail; and plunging down the chimneys of the few early collegians who were yet lighting their fires, half suffocated them."

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