My name is Becky. And I don't like Charles Dickens. There, I've said it. I wish I felt better. I don't know what it is--stupidity or optimism--that makes me keep picking up Dickens' novels. Don't get me wrong, I love A Christmas Carol. I've read it a handful of times through the years. But so far it's proved the only exception to the rule. Great Expectations? Read not once but twice. Once in high school. Once in college. Hated both times. Forgotten both times. The first time, I think was so traumatic that I blocked the entire book from my memory. When I read it in college, it was with new eyes, fresh eyes. But it proved that I hadn't yet "matured" where Dickens was concerned. (I'm starting to think I will never quite reach that place.) My memories of Great Expectations are dulled to barely recognizable and that's fine with me.
Still, I had great hopes that 2008 would be THE year I'd finally "get it" where Dickens was concerned. I put David Copperfield on my list. And A Tale of Two Cities is not far behind. But unfortunately before I tried either of those...I picked up Oliver Twist. I'm 132 pages into it so far, and I'm hating it. It's not that it's "difficult" to comprehend. There isn't that much of a language barrier. I'm just not liking the characters or the story. It's dark and gloomy and depressing and hopeless. Maybe it gets better, maybe it doesn't. Wishbone certainly made this book look fun. (Then again that doggie made every book look fun.) But right now it would take a miracle for me to press onwards and upwards and actually finish this one.
I'm not giving up completely, I might try later in the year to read David Copperfield or A Tale of Two Cities. I might try to read both, you never can tell with bees. But part of me thinks that I'm just not ever going to get Dickens.
Anybody else want to make a confession? Step right on up and spill all. Who do you just not get???
© Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews