Great Expectations – Charles Dickens

I figured that, since I’ve become British (ha! It had to happen at some point…) I might as well read some Dickens. I always imagined that I would end up starting with Oliver Twist or David Copperfield, but Great Expectations was my consolation prize from my most fruitless trip to the Amnesty International Blackheath book sale ever, and so my decision was made.

Bizarrely, it took me almost a month to read this book, but I’ll blame the 55 essays that I had to mark in that period for that (and after 7 years of teaching, they have a tendency to all mush into one gigantic essay whose overarching argument is that “yes, Germany did cause WWI, but also the other countries had their responsibilities”…).

As far as feuilletons go, this book made me rather happy (and made me want to be just like Joe – who, like my mom always says about my grandfather and his fellow peasants, looked absolutely natural and beautiful in his everyday work-clothes, and much less so in his Sunday best). As far as feuilletons go, the plot wasn’t always dreadfully banal (that said, the ease with which the characters’ lives intertwine over the years is obviously rather impressive, or perhaps perplexing). And, as far as feuilletons go, it was surprisingly funny.