cavfancier wrote:Dickens got paid by the word though.
A Tale of Two Cities and
Great Expectations are arguably the finest examples of his best writing style, and are considerably shorter than his other novels (which i assert having read every novel he wrote, including
The Mystery of Edwin Drood, which was left uncompleted at his death--damn it ! ! !).
Our Mutual Friend,
Bleak House,
Little Dorritt,
David Copperfield and a few others were serialized. This both meant that Dickens would want to meet the minimum word requirement of the magazines, and would want to write in a manner so as to lure the reader into buying the next number of the magazine. Novels such as the two mentioned above, and
Hard Times,
Barnaby Rudge,
Dombey & Son and a few others were written in their entirety before publication.
I have always considered
A Tale of Two Cities to be the best of his literary efforts. The entire work was a study in contrasts. The opening lines are: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way- in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."
The closing lines are: " 'Tis a far, far better thing that i do now, than I have ever done. 'Tis a far, far better rest that i go to than i have ever known." Those last lines are spoken by Sidney Carton, a genius of a legal scholar, who never made his way as a lawyer, because of his fondness for carousing. Other attorneys employ him, chiefly by plying him with food and drink, to dive into legal tomes and find the precise citations they need to sustain their cases. One such attorney consults Carton during the defense of one Dr. Manette. The good doctor was incarcerated in the Bastille, and the opening chapter, "Recalled to Life," concerns itself with his rescue from that prison before the French Revolution. Carton therefore meets Lucie Manette, the good doctor's daughter who was spirited away to England and raised there. Carton falls for her in a big way, but her heart is given a French aristocrat (forget the name right now), to whom Carton bears a striking resemblance--so much so, that he willingly substitutes himself for the Frenchman, and goes to the guillotine in his place. Those lines are Carton's statement from the scaffold.
The story revolves around a bank in London, which manages the financial affairs of Dr. Manette. Their "dogs body" is one Jeremiah Cruncher, who supplements his income in the evenings by "fishing." Dickens has a delightful comment, which i cannot quote from memory, but to paraphrase, it was not a style of angling which Izzy Walton would have recognized (referring to
The Compleate Angler, by Isaac Walton, 1656--which actually has some excellent fly fishing advice, after one wades throught the first few hundred pages of tedious literary allusions, and a superficial debate between Venator [the hunter], Auceps [the falconer] and Piscator [the fisherman])--Cruncher was a grave robber. He acts the stout English Yoeman, though, in defending Lucie and her betrothed when they are escaping Paris, and foils the evil Madame DeFarge.
The characters, the cultures of England and France, the very language of the text are all studies in contrasts--between these and within them. Dickens could, as no one else of whom i know writing in English, sustain metaphors and literary devices. This stands as his finest work to my mind, because of the brilliance with which he explores the theme of contrast. It is to literature what Beethoven's elaboration of four simple notes in his Fifth symphony are to music.