Before "the old year slips away, lamented by no one*," a celebration of the 150th anniversary of the death of Charles Dickens is in order. My memory of Dickens goes back to my school days in the 5th grade when I was assigned the Victorian novelist as part of the class project on the "Great Authors."
To explain why I kept this report all these years would require much space and deep thought, which is beyond the scope of this blog, but it does serve as physical proof of my lifelong interest in books and authors. The "cover art" -- with a grade of A- (see left) -- is an early example of grade inflation. The list of authors that were considered "great" is kind of interesting from the perspective of which classic writers were in vogue in the mid-1960s (very few authors from the 20th century and very few women).
I wish I still had that excellent penmanship.
I did go on to read quite a few Dickens novels until I said "enough already" 30 years ago while I was halfway through Oliver Twist. Still, Dickens is in my entertainment mix.
My longtime partner Denise and I always watch A Christmas Carol every December. She prefers the black and white 1951 Alastair Sim version, which is quite good, but I favor the 1984 version starring George C. Scott as curmudgeonly Ebenezer Scrooge. However, this season there is a new up and comer, a "live streaming film version" of Jefferson Mays 's one -man stage performance where he plays all the characters. The richness of Dickens's language really comes through in this filmed theatre version.
We also recently watched the film The Personal History of David Copperfield, a quirky adaptation by Armando Iannucci (Veep, Death of Stalin) and staring Dev Patel as the hero of his own life.
For a more in-depth overall assessment of Dickens, read Charles Gottlieb's recent review of A.N. Wilson's The Mystery of Charles Dickens (2020), but if you're looking for something tighter that captures the crux of the novelist, check out this report from a 5th grader who showed some early promise.
* The expression "the old year slips away, lamented by no one," is from Rick Atkinson's Day of Battle about the United States fighting in Italy during World War II. It was Atkinson's description of 1943 which had been a bloody stalemate that accomplished little at great cost.