Anyway, as of 30 seconds ago, I have it made it a 2012 mission of mine to read at least two more of old Charlie's work. That's where you come in. Should I pick up Pickwick Papers, or visit the Old Curiosity Shop? Is Martin Chuzzlewit worth getting to know, or do you prefer Little Dorrit? Help me out here, friends. Which Dickens is your favourite?
Is anyone prepared to join me? All those willing to read one or two Dickens novels they haven't read before during 2012, shout 'Aye' and wave your hands in the air. More usefully, leave a comment telling me which one you fancy. (Which book, I mean. I'm not interested in your Strictly Come Dancing fantasies). If a handful of hardy souls volunteer then I will make a new page on the blog to publish short reviews of each book, written by you lovely people. Do you think we can do them all between us by the end of 2012? If no hardy souls volunteer then I will sulk. Think of my poor husband before opting out.
I will leave you with my favourite piece of Dickens and possibly the best opening to a book ever (oooh, there's a whole new post waiting to happen!). Sometimes I read this, just to make me happy. This is the famous opening sentence of A Tale of Two Cities...
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.