Maybe this should be called An Unbelievable Tale of Underdeveloped Characters

I feel a bit cheated on this one as it started off with a great deal of promise. A fine cast of characters, poor and rich, clever and thick, good and evil all set in late 18th Century London and Paris. Oh, and there was a bonus, the French Revolution became more prominet as the story developed.

I did bring my 'best reader' to this story - I promise. I was on Dickens' side. "Go Charlie" - my 3 pups heard me shout after 30 or 40 pages. Yes, this could be as good as The Count of Monte Cristo!!

The conclusion I have come to is this. No matter how interesting the characters of a story are initially, no matter how promising the premise, no matter how much you are looking forward to the experience - it doesn't matter a hoot if the characters are like cardboard cut-outs and the author does't seem to care about them resulting in this reader caring about thm even less.

This glaring fault was majestically combined with a storyline that had so much promise, but ended up being so unfathomably unbelievable it was yes........unbelievably unfathomable.

I'm not trying to be funny, nor am I trying to be overly negative. In some way I think Dickens was trying to be too clever by half, I'm yet to read the reviews of others yet - surely I can't be the only one?

Now I write all of this knowing, there are much, much cleverer readers out there than I, and there are literary academics who would die in a ditch and fight me over the vitriol written in this 'review' (of sorts - well it's more about an experience really, or lack of it).

I started at rating this story at 3 Stars, but after writing this 'review' - I'll give it 2 Stars

Dacă aș fi citit mai devreme acest roman, probabil că mi-ar fi plăcut. Și mi-ar fi plăcut să-mi placă măcar lectura asta tîrzie. Din păcate, romanul nu mi-a stîrnit entuziasmul. Să vă spun și de ce. Iată, în opinia mea, trei mari defecte:

1. Verbiajul, retorica: Dickens ține morțiș să scrie „frumos”, să provoace cititorului o exclamație de uimire, un spasm; și chiar scrie frumos. Folosește figuri de stil în exces. Repetiția și enumerarea, de pildă. Aș fi preferat să fi scris mai simplu și mai firesc, pentru că simplitatea e cea mai persuasivă retorică.

2. Naratorul își judecă personajele. Îi mustră pe vinovați, îi laudă pe inocenți. Intervenția lui e inoportună.

3. Maniheismul: personajele cărții se împart în două categorii antinomice: cei buni și cei răi. Nu există personaje neutre. Nu există cenușiu. Cei buni sînt foarte buni, extraordinar de buni, sublimi în bunătatea lor (avocatul Sydney Carton, de pildă, care alege să moară ghilotinat în locul lui Charles Darnay, e doar un exemplu), în timp ce oamenii răi sînt foarte răi, înfiorător de răi, răi la extrem (marchizul St. Evrémonde, unchiul lui Charles Darnay, un individ apăsat sinistru, ar fi exemplul direct opus). Dar omul însuși, omul real, e mult mai ambiguu decît îl prezintă Dickens. Nu poate fi doar bun sau doar rău. E un amestec.

Ca toate cărțile lui Charles Dickens și acest roman istoric (acțiunea lui se petrece între 1775 și 1792-1793) a fost scris anume pentru cei umili și obidiți. Probabil că nenumărații cititori ai acestei cărți priveau cu îngăduință și plăcere (pe care eu, unul, sărac fiind totuși, nu le mai simt astăzi) astfel de construcții literare baroce:

Începutul cărții (pasajul cel mai citat de exegeți): „Era cea mai bună dintre vremi, era cea mai năpăstuită dintre vremi, era epoca înţelepciunii, epoca neroziei, veacul credinţei, veacul necredinţei, răstimpul Luminii, răstimpul întunecimii, primăvara nădejdii, iarna deznădejdii, aveam totul în faţă, aveam doar nimicul în faţă, ne înălţăm cu toţii de-a dreptul la ceruri, ne cufundam cu toţii de-a dreptul în iad - pe scurt, epoca aceea era atit de asemănătoare cu cea de acum, încît unele dintre autorităţile cele mai proeminente au stăruit să fie prezentată, în tot ce avea ea bun sau rău, numai la gradul superlativ”.

O repetiție de mare efect la mijlocul secolului al XIX-lea: „Foamea e gonită afară din casele înalte, oploşită în veşmintele flenduroase care spînzură de ţăruşi sau pe fringhii; Foamea se tupilează în încăperile astupate cu paie şi cîrpe, şipci de lemn şi ghemotoace de hîrtie; Foamea se iveşte în fiecare surcea din puţinul lemnelor de foc pe care le despică bărbatul; Foamea se zgîieşte prin coşurile fără de fum şi se iscă din străzile puturoase printre ale căror gunoaie nu se rătăceşte nimic bun de mîncat. Foamea şi-a săpat numele pe tejgheaua brutarului, şi l-a înscris pe fiecare bucată din sărăcăciosul morman de pîine rea; şi l-a semnat şi la cîrnăţărie, în fiecare tocătură de cîine mort care se vinde acolo. Foamea îşi pîrîie oasele uscate printre castanele care se coc pe frigarea rotitoare; Foamea se fărîmiţează în atomi...”.

Încă un pasaj întemeiat pe figura repetiției și enumerării: „Satul avea o singură uliţă amărîtă, cu o berărie amărîtă, o tăbăcărie amărîtă, o crîşmă amărîtă, un grajd amărît pentru schimbul cailor de poştă, o fîntină amărîtă, şi toate obişnuitele instituţii amărite. Avea şi oamenii săi amărîți”.

În sfîrșit: „Castelul domnului marchiz era o clădire masivă, greoaie… Un mare conglomerat de piatră, cu balustrade grele de piatră, urne de piatră, flori de piatră, chipuri omeneşti de piatră şi capete de animale din piatră în toate colţurile”.

În încheiere, repet că-mi pare rău că n-am citit acest roman la timpul lui. L-aș fi judecat, cu siguranță, cu mai multă simpatie.

An awesome tale of the horrors of political revolution!

What an interesting thought.

If it was possible for Dickens to write something that was less Dickensian than the rest of his impressive body of work, A TALE OF TWO CITIES would qualify as the least Dickensian of them all. An absorbing historical work, a sharply moving forward tempo, little if any comic relief and a minimum of florid prose (at least relative to his own characteristic standard of an abundance of unnecessary embellishment) make A TALE OF TWO CITIES a tense, somber, compelling and moving piece of work that is the shortest, yet perhaps most well known, of his major novels.

The characters, as one would expect from Dickens, are still ambitious, magnificently described creations - Charles Darnay, son of the Marquis Saint Evrémonde, who moves to England and disowns his heritage as part of the ruling French aristocracy; Darnay's look alike, Sydney Carton, a hard-drinking ambitionless lawyer who comes at last to the realization that his life has been wasted; Lucie Manette, the typical Victorian heroine, who lives and loves with a faint heart, teary eyes and heaving bosom; her father, Alexandre Manette, who barely survives a long imprisonment in the Bastille and recovers his health and his reason only in the nurturing environment of his family in England; Jarvis Lorry, the man of business, the Tellson's Bank representative in Paris and the steadfast family friend of the Manettes; Ernest and Thérèse Defarge, the maniacal, metaphorical representatives of France's working class who evolve (or might that be devolve) into the citizens and citizenesses of a post-revolutionary French Republic; and, of course, Jerry Cruncher, a close to the edge Londoner, who makes his dubious living as a "resurrectionist", that is, a procurer of recently deceased corpses for medical research.

Covering the history of London and Paris during the period from 1775, just prior to the onset of the American Revolution, to the storming of the Bastille in 1789, the height of Robespierre's Terror, and the daily bloodshed of the close shaves of France's barber, Madame La Guillotine, A Tale of Two Cities dwells on a multiplicity of themes - romance; unrequited love; altruism; the terrors of revolution; the evils of class distinctions; the power of friendship; the terrifying ability of power to corrupt; and the amazing ability of a faith in God to comfort through troubled times.

If you're already familiar with Dickens, but have yet to read A TALE OF TWO CITIES, run to the nearest library or bookstore, curl up by the fire and read it as soon as you can. If you have yet to try your first Dickens novel, this is a fine place to start. Compose yourself and relax. Be patient and take the time to discover Dickens' style of writing. With the possible exception of Wilkie Collins, I don't believe there's another author who could have got away with writing complex, enormously lengthy paragraphs that, upon hindsight, the reader will discover were but single sentences. Of a sudden, you'll discover you're at the end of the novel. And, I defy you - I defy you - to read the last chapter of A TALE OF TWO CITIES without finding a lump in your throat.

Paul Weiss

"اگر صدایم برایتان آشنا می آید...اگر...اگر شبیه همان کسی است که شما می شناسید پس بیایید با یکدیگر گریه کنیم. اگر موهای من می تواند شما را به یاد او بیاندازد، بیایید باز در کنار هم گریه کنیم. اگر هنوز به یاد خانه ای هستید که زمانی در کنار یکدیگر بودید و حالا اسیر دیوان و ددان شده است پس بیایید در کنار هم گریه کنیم."

Alright, I've mentioned before that I majored in English in college. If you've been following my reviews you'll notice that I've been knocking off a lot of classics that I missed out on in that time. Now here it is, my big dark secret… I've never read a proper Dickens novel. Prior to this I've only read some of his short stories and A Christmas Carol.

Well, it's been corrected! I've finally read a Dickens novel! Huzzah! Hooray! I went with the one it seems like… well, everyone has read.

Okay, so yes, I went with his most commonly read book, and yes I chose it entirely because it was his most commonly read book. I confess though, other than that it took place during the French revolution and those most famous and often quoted opening and closing lines, I knew very little about the book. Seems like the perfect introduction to Dickens proper, right?

Well, yes and no. Let me start by saying that yes, I did greatly enjoy this book. I liked it very much and was impressed at how intricately plotted it was. Scenes that I genuinely thought might have been comedic padding actually turned out important. Little details mentioned early on are used in interesting ways throughout. There are some genuinely beautiful, almost reflecting passages of the book where a scene early on is somewhat repeated with characters changed. There is a lot I loved about this book and I think my rating reflects that.

Here's the thing… my two favorite aspects of the book? The moments of humor and the interesting side characters. I'll be honest here, I didn't really care much about Charles Darnay or Lucie. They were frankly bland and uninteresting. Charles had the charisma of a board of wood and Lucie is so overly sweet that I feared diabetic issues if there were many chapters from her point of view. Dr. Manette was an interesting character because Dickens gave him more of a psychological depth to him… but really, the characters I liked reading about? The humorous messenger, grave robber and occasional bodyguard Jerry Crutcher, the man of business Jarvis Lorry, the clever and snide Sydney Carton and the sinister Madame Defarge. The side characters were all interesting, I loved seeing these quirky and interesting people come and go.

In other words, from what I gather, the thing I liked about this book the most (humor and the interesting side characters) are the aspects that show up more prominently in Dickens's other works.

So, apparently I picked wrong.

That said, this was a lovely and wonderful read. The writing was beautiful, I enjoyed my entire time with it and it will almost certainly not be my last Dickens novel… though it is a relief to finally cross him off my list of authors I'm embarrassed to say I had not read. 4/5 stars.

1η δημοσίευση, Book Press:
https://www.bookpress.gr/kritikes/xen...

Όταν στο μεγάλο συμπόσιο προς τιμήν της λογοτεχνίας συρρεύσουν οι συνδαιτημόνες για να γιορτάσουν τη ματαιότητα άπαντων των ανθρωπίνων έργων πλην εκείνων της Τέχνης, στον Ντίκενς θα δοθεί περίοπτη θέση. Μπορεί να μην υπήρξε καινοτόμος με την έννοια που αποδίδουμε σε συγγραφείς όπως ο Τζόυς ή ο Προυστ, πλην όμως κατόρθωσε να συγκεράσει δύο σημαντικές παραμέτρους στο πληθωρικό έργο του: εμπορικότητα (ευπώλητος στην εποχή του και έκτοτε) και συγγραφική δεινότητα – αυτό που αποκαλούμε (ελλείψει άλλου όρου πιο αντικειμενικού, έστω μετρήσιμου) ποιότητα.

Η Ιστορία δύο πόλεων, έργο της ωριμότητας του Ντίκενς, αποτελεί την επιτομή των προαναφερθέντων χαρακτηριστικών και ευτύχησε να μεταφερθεί σε νέα μετάφραση στη γλώσσα μας από τον Μιχάλη Μακρόπουλο. Θεωρούμενο ως ιστορική λογοτεχνία, το βιβλίο αυτό κινείται θεματικά στη χρονική περίοδο λίγο πριν από την έναρξη της Γαλλικής Επανάστασης, αλλά και κατά τη διάρκειά της. Το κατά Ντίκενς Λονδίνο και Παρίσι, όμως, δεν είναι παρά μόνο λογοτεχνικά μετεικάσματα των πραγματικών πόλεων – απλώς η σκηνή που έχει επιλέξει ο συγγραφέας για να ανεβάσει την ολόδική του παράσταση. Και η αυλαία ανοίγει, οι ήρωες εισέρχονται σταδιακά, παρουσιάζονται στο κοινό και το δράμα ξεκινά. Ο σκηνοθέτης τοποθετεί τα πιόνια στη σκακιέρα και ξεδιπλώνει το ταλέντο του, αφήνοντας τον αναγνώστη να έρθει σε επαφή με τους –χαρακτηριστικούς στα έργα του– ήρωες που πλαισιώνουν τους βασικούς πρωταγωνιστές. Ο καθένας δε από αυτούς παίζει σημαντικό ρόλο στην εξέλιξη του μύθου, οπότε το πορτρέτο τους έχει φιλοτεχνηθεί στην εντέλεια.

Ήδη από τα πρώτα κεφάλαια, όπου η Επανάσταση στη Γαλλία κοχλάζει έτοιμη να ξεσπάσει, ο συγγραφέας θα περιγράψει τα προεόρτια, χρησιμοποιώντας ισχυρές εικόνες. Χαρακτηριστικό παράδειγμα η σκηνή έξω από το καπηλειό. Εξαιτίας ενός ατυχήματος, το μεγάλο βαρέλι του κρασιού σπάει. Κόκκινο κρασί (σαν αίμα;) χύνεται στα ρείθρα, στις πλάκες, στις πέτρες, κι από παντού οι τρωγλοδύτες ανασύρονται από τα βάθη των θλιβερών κατοικιών τους, νέοι και γέροι, σκύβοντας στα γόνατα για να ρουφήξουν το πολύτιμο υγρό, να το γλείψουν από τη λάσπη, να πνίξουν την ακόρεστη δίψα τους προτού επανέλθουν στις σκιές τους. Ο συγγραφέας προετοιμάζει τον αναγνώστη: αργότερα, οι παρίες θα ξεχυθούν ξανά στα βουλεβάρτα για να ξεδιψάσουν όχι πλέον με οίνο, αλλά με αίμα.

Ο Ντίκενς χρησιμοποιεί, θα έλεγε κάποιος, ενός είδους κυκλωτική κίνηση για να αφηγηθεί, θυμίζοντας Ματαντόρ που χορεύει διαρκώς γύρω από τον ταύρο, αρκούμενος στο να τον αποφεύγει, να τον κεντρίζει, να τον παρενοχλεί, να τον εξασθενεί για το καίριο χτύπημα. Εν προκειμένω, χρησιμοποιεί τα αντικείμενα που πλαισιώνουν τους ανθρώπους (κάτοπτρα του χαρακτήρα τους), στα οποία επικεντρώνεται αφηγηματικά, ρίχνοντάς τους γέφυρες προτού επιστρέψει στη δράση. Επιτυγχάνει να αποσύρει προς στιγμήν την προσοχή του αναγνώστη από την εξελισσόμενη πλοκή, να αλλάξει τη γωνία προβολής, να εστιάσει στη λεπτομέρεια, η οποία λειτουργεί ως αισθητικό αντίβαρο στην όποια κοινοτοπία μπορεί να μεταφέρει εγγενώς η δράση (αναπόφευκτο σε οποιοδήποτε έργο παρελθούσης εποχής). Με τη σειρά τους, οι χώροι, τα αντικείμενα παίρνουν ζωή και αντιδρούν ως έμβια, καθότι αντανακλάσεις των σκέψεων, των συναισθημάτων των ηρώων (του ίδιου του συγγραφέα, τελικά). Ώσπου με μια ακόμα ευφυή περιστροφή, αφού μας έχει παρασύρει στους αισθητικούς παραποτάμους της αφηγηματικής του τέχνης, ο Ντίκενς μας επαναφέρει στο κυρίως ρεύμα της δράσης.

Έτερο παράδειγμα, για του λόγου το ασφαλές: Στη σκηνή που εκτυλίσσεται στην αίθουσα του δικαστηρίου, δεν είναι τα βλέμματα αλλά οι ανάσες, τα χνώτα (ανακατεμένα με μπίρα, τζιν ή τσάι) που τυλίγουν το κατηγορούμενο, μιαίνοντας τα τζάμια του δικαστηρίου. Αντί να καταφύγει στην καταγγελία και τον διδακτισμό, ο Ντίκενς αφήνει την εικόνα να μιλήσει, σκηνοθετώντας τη δράση. Δεν παρασύρεται από τη δίκαιη οργή του για να καταδείξει το πώς ένα αποκτηνωμένο κοινό προσμένει τη φρικτή τιμωρία ενός συνανθρώπου για να διασκεδάσει τη δυστυχία του. Αφήνει τις οσμές, την αποφορά, την ανθρώπινη σάρκα να προκαλέσει την εγκεφαλική αντίδραση του αναγνώστη, με τέτοια δεξιοτεχνία ώστε να του προκαλεί σωματική αντίδραση και αποστροφή. Τούτη η εικόνα που χτίζει είναι πολύ πιο δυνατή από οποιαδήποτε άμεση καταγγελία της ηθικής σήψης, καθώς χαράσσεται ανεξίτηλα στο μυαλό.

Το 21ο κεφάλαιο «Βήματα που αντηχούν» παραμένει ένα από τα ωραιότερα του βιβλίου, καθώς συνδέει με αριστοτεχνικό τρόπο το παρελθόν και το παρόν των ηρώων με το μέλλον τους. Ο συγγραφέας χρησιμοποιεί τις αντηχήσεις, τον αντίλαλο, τον ήχο των βημάτων στο σπίτι της οικογένειας για να καταδείξει το πέρασμα του χρόνου, συγχρόνως με την εικόνα της χρυσής κλωστής με την οποία η σύζυγος –και πλέον μητέρα– Λούσι τυλίγει τα αγαπημένα της πρόσωπα. Άνθρωποι σε κίνηση, ενωμένοι σε ένα εκκρεμές που στην άνοδο και στην κάθοδο αλλάζει χρόνο, εισαγάγοντας νέα πρόσωπα (τα παιδιά), αλλά ταυτόχρονα φέρνοντας τους ήρωες πιο κοντά στο πεπρωμένο τους.

Εκεί, στη δίνη αυτή των αντηχήσεων, συμπλέκεται το ατομικό με το συλλογικό, με τον άλλο αντίλαλο –εκείνο της επανάστασης– να καταφτάνει ως κύμα που θα καλύψει με την ορμή του τα ατομικά πεπρωμένα. Τα βήματα που αντηχούν στο σπίτι της οικογένειας είναι εκείνα του επελαύνοντος χρόνου. Σε αντίθεση, τα βήματα της ιστορίας είναι στην ουσία η ηχώ της βίας που θα κατακλύσει οσονούπω τη Βαστίλη και το σύνολο της επικράτειας. Από τη μία πλευρά η ειρηνική εικόνα, ο αντίλαλος της σιωπής και της εναλλαγής των εποχών κι από την άλλη ο τροχασμός της ιστορίας, η αιματοβαμμένη εικόνα της ανθρωποθάλασσας όπως ξεχύνεται παρασύροντας στο διάβα της τους πάντες.

Και όταν έρθει η στιγμή της κορύφωσης του ιστορικού γεγονότος, ο Ντίκενς χορογραφεί μεγαλειωδώς την επανάσταση. Οι σελίδες του αποκτούν έντονο ρυθμό, καθώς η δυσοίωνη πριν ελκυστική μελωδία κατακλύζει και παρασέρνει τους ανθρώπους, αθώους κι ενόχους ομού. Πλέον ο μόνος αντίλαλος είναι εκείνος του θανάτου που σκεπάζει κάθε άλλο ήχο, τις κραυγές των θητών και των θυμάτων. Η μελωδία του αίματος, ισχυρή, υποβλητική, εισέρχεται στις γωνίες, τους δρόμους, τις τρώγλες, τα παλάτια και τις φυλακές. Και εν συνεχεία ο λαός, συχνότερα όχλος, οι εξεγερμένοι με τον κόκκινο σκούφο που εφορμούν με τυφλά μάτια, κατακόκκινα από αίμα ενάντια στην ιστορία, αναζητώντας τον θάνατο για τους άλλους και τον εαυτό τους. Δεν προσφέρεται έλεος από κείνους που ποτέ δεν τους δόθηκε, ανθρωπιά για όσους δεν γνώρισαν τη θαλπωρή της. Διότι δεν υπάρχει κανένα μεγαλείο στους ταπεινούς, παρά μόνο ο ζόφος ψυχών στιγματισμένων από αιώνες βίας και καταπίεσης που όταν ανακαλύπτουν με δέος τη δύναμη της μαζικής τους βίας, την εξαπολύουν ασύμμετρα, ολικά, καταστροφικά.

Μόνο ο ήχος της γκιλοτίνας είναι καθαρός και σηματοδοτεί την αυγή της νέας εποχής – ένας σφυριχτός ήχος, ένας γδούπος, το οριστικό τέλος. Και γύρω από την ασταμάτητη μηχανή του θανάτου οι θεατές σε ένα καθημερινό ραντεβού με τη φρίκη. Σε αυτή την παράσταση του τρόμου οι θέσεις είναι πάντα πιασμένες, ο διευθυντής της ορχήστρας (ονόματι Σαμψών) προσφέρει στο κοινό του αυτό που επιθυμεί: «ξύρισμα» ταχύτατο, αποτελεσματικό (πόσες δεκάδες κεφάλια μπορούν να πέσουν στο καλάθι στον ελάχιστο δυνατό χρόνο;) και επιστροφή την ίδια ώρα, την επόμενη ημέρα για μια νέα παράσταση. Αθώοι, ένοχοι, γυναίκες, άντρες, δεν έχει σημασία – ο κλίβανος της Επανάστασης των κολασμένων χρειάζεται καύσιμο και τίποτε δεν προσφέρεται σε αφθονία... όσο τα ανθρώπινα κορμιά.

Ο Ντίκενς, προς μεγάλη μας απόλαυση, αφήνεται να ξεδιπλώσει το αστείρευτο ταλέντο του. Σε μια εκπληκτικής δεξιοτεχνίας σκηνή, η δύστυχη Λούσι αναμένει σε ένα στενό, απόμερο σοκάκι να δει τον σύζυγό της στο παράθυρο της φυλακής. Το χιονισμένο τοπίο αίφνης γεμίζει ασφυκτικά με εκατοντάδες άτομα που επιδίδονται σε έναν διονυσιακό χορό, την Καρμανιόλα, το τραγούδι της Επανάστασης. Χέρια κινούνται, κεφάλια δονούνται, άνθρωποι κορυβαντιώντες, αλλόφρονες υπό τους ήχους του άσματος αποβάλλουν την ανθρώπινη ουσία τους, τα όποια στοιχεία πολιτισμού και βυθίζονται στον οίστρο του αίματος, της αρχετυπικής ένωσης με τα ένστικτά τους.

Ο Ντίκενς καταγράφει τη φρενίτιδα του πλήθους με γλώσσα περίτεχνη, προσδίδοντάς της τραγική διάσταση, φέρνοντας τον αναγνώστη κάθε εποχής σε επαφή με το καίριο, το αεί επίκαιρο συναίσθημα του χάους, των αχαλιναγώγητων δυνάμεων της εντροπίας που κατοικοεδρεύει στον ανθρώπινο πυρήνα και εξυψώνεται σε δυσθεώρητα ύψη όταν εξαπλώνει το ιικό της φορτίο στη μάζα. Δεν πρόκειται για κάτι λιγότερο από τον Χορό μιας μαύρης Τραγωδίας που παρασύρεται και εμβαπτίζεται στη σκοτεινή του πλευρά, όχι ως ο «ιδεώδης θεατής» αλλά ως αυτονομημένο όν που σπανίως συνυπάρχει και διαλέγεται με τα θεατρικά πρόσωπα, αλλά επιβάλλει συχνότερα τις αντιλήψεις του, τις επιθυμίες του, τα απωθημένα του.

Αναφέρει στο επίμετρό του ο Τσέστερτον ότι ο Ντίκενς ένα μόνο βιβλίο για τη Γαλλική Επανάσταση είχε διαβάσει (εκείνο του Καρλάιλ), και ότι παρόλο που είχε ταξιδέψει, ουσιαστικά υπήρξε αποκλειστικά πολίτης μίας πόλης: του Λονδίνου. Και όμως, συνεχίζει, οι σελίδες στην Ιστορία δύο πόλεων που εξελίσσονται στο Παρίσι παραμένουν οι πιο δυνατές, ενώ η οπτική του συγγραφέα κατορθώνει να είναι πιο σφαιρική και αντικειμενική από εκείνη του ιστορικού. Αν ο Τσέστερτον δείχνει να εκπλήσσεται, από πλευράς μου θεωρώ το γεγονός απολύτως φυσικό.

Εκείνο που προσφέρει αφειδώς ο Ντίκενς στην Ιστορία δύο πόλεων είναι η καλλιτεχνική του οπτική για την εποχή εκείνη, ένα έργο φαντασίας με φανταστικούς χαρακτήρες που για κάποιες εκατοντάδες σελίδες αποφάσισε να τους αναστήσει, τους έδωσε πνοή, υπόσταση και τους έριξε άκοντες στον «πραγματικό» κόσμο. Τα πάθη τους, τα κίνητρά τους, οι προσδοκίες και οι διαψεύσεις τους αποτελούν γεννήματα της δημιουργικής φαντασίας του καλλιτέχνη, ο οποίος κινεί τα νήματα αφ' υψηλού, προσφέροντας στον αναγνώστη του ψήγματα αλήθειας (ποτέ «αντικειμενικής»), κρυφές ματιές στον ψυχισμό, στο συναμφότερον: την κατάρα και την ευχή να είσαι ανθρώπινο όν, να κυλιέσαι στη λάσπη συχνότερα και να υψώνεσαι στα νέφη σπανιότερα.

Και ακριβώς γι' αυτούς τους λόγους διαβάζουμε Ντίκενς, συγχωρώντας του τις όποιες ευκολίες στην εξέλιξη της δράσης (ο deus ex machina στο τέλος), τους συχνά φορτισμένους συγκινησιακά διαλόγους, τις παραδοχές εμπορικότητας που απευθύνονται σε ένα κοινό που αναμένει την ταύτιση με τους ήρωες (η μόνη ταύτιση του ώριμου αναγνώστη οφείλει να είναι αποκλειστικά με τον συγγραφέα!) για να απολαύσει το μυθιστόρημα. Είναι όμως τέτοιας δύναμης η γοητεία των αμιγώς καλλιτεχνικών αφηγηματικών στοιχείων, ώστε να υπερκαλύπτουν τις όποιες αδυναμίες, μα κι όσα πλήγματα επιφέρει η πάροδος του χρόνου.

Αντί επιλόγου:

Όταν βραδιάσει και λίγο πριν από τον ύπνο, οι γονείς θα ξεκινήσουν να διαβάζουν στα τέκνα τους το παραμύθι της ημέρας. Το παιδί ακούει με προσοχή την ιστορία, σπεύδοντας να διορθώσει τον βιαστικό που τολμά να αλλάξει ή να παρακάμψει έστω και το παραμικρό, προκειμένου να ολοκληρώσει ταχύτερα την ανάγνωση. Την ίδια αυτή ιστορία που διαβάζεται χαμηλόφωνα στην ησυχία της νύχτας, το παιδί την έχει ακούσει δεκάδες φορές και πλέον την έχει αποστηθίσει. Κι όμως, την ξανακούει με την ίδια πλησμονή, με την ίδια δίψα, σαν να ήταν αυτή η πρώτη φορά. Πώς θα μπορούσε να γίνει διαφορετικά, αφού η απόλαυση της αφήγησης παραμένει στον πυρήνα της ανθρώπινης ύπαρξης από τα αρχαία χρόνια ως το τέλος του κόσμου. Ας ξεκινήσουμε, λοιπόν, από την αρχή: «Ήταν οι καλύτεροι καιροί, ήταν οι χειρότεροι καιροί, ήταν η εποχή της σοφίας…»

I read this book in my Junior Year of High School - the year of a Gathering Storm in my heart and head. The teacher who led us through its gritty, noble intricacies, the year I assumed the role of High School Head Boy, was also my home room instructor.

Am I wrong - you professionals out there may want to correct me - or do teachers of unexciting subjects like English more often get the nod in carrying out the role of home room supervisors?

Happened to me in more years of secondary school than not!

Well, anyway, let me at any rate proceed now to set the stage for yet another of my usual hyperbolic meanderings of a literary tenor...
***

My Mom, you must understand, was in love with Ronald Colman.

Who, you kids may ask?

Ronald Colman, the early Talkies mâtinée idol, played the swoon-worthy Sidney Carton, who is the hero of this book, in the 1935 version of Tale of Two Cities.

Mom loved the trait of nobility in guys, I guess, when at 10 Years old she saw this film and imagined herself playing Lucie to Colman's Sidney, and so musta already have been dreaming of her many future noble-hearted beaux!

Trolls take note - you'll never get leers from such noble damsels.

But watching that goopy old flick Spoiled the book for ME and Mom, alas!

Ruined it.

Why?

Well, it's like this...

Mom and I didn't understand the world of Realpolitik - I certainly didn't wanna face my Student Council (after a few rancorous and rowdy run-ins over student smoking rights) - nor did Mom look forward to facing her library board, who, being elected, represented (you Got it) the voters, not dreamy literacy.

We were two round pegs in two square holes. Mashed peas, anyone?

Further, watching the movie version never gets you in touch with a book! Have you ever read Dickens' Bleak House?

Bleak House is a very vivid, very Unsentimental portrayal of the London poor. And it IS Bleak. Without hope.

And such, dear readers, is Realpolitik. Hard, cold, naked human reality. Like the evening news at its most brutal.

Now, Mom and I visited the Evening News every night - but we could never Live in it. Because we both lived in a goopy, sentimental world, being slightly autistic: innocents manqués.

But we took the evening news straight up each night and digested it.

So, when she was diagnosed with cancer at 54, she was not unhappy.

Cause she saw the World was now Dystopian.

And she wanted OUT.
***

So that friends, is this book.

The Realpolitik of the French Revolution, seen from ground level.

It's not pleasant (though it is TRULY noble).

And it certainly doesn't paint a picture of a pretty adolescent dream world, like my Mom and I always inhabited!

You know... she musta smiled with me when, a year after she died at 55, I became a Catholic.

For I had found my own painless way OUT - to the other side of death.

At long last I have finished the Tale. Events piled up in the third book, so I could barely put it aside. As a trained reader of mystery stories, though, I had suspected the end already several chapter before. The plot is well laid out with a constant increase of suspense, but it is not the main atout of this novel. The lively description of some of the events (e.g. the broken barrel of wine in the streets of Sainte Antoine) show, where Dickens is at his best. Like a screenplay I could see them happen in front of my inner eye. And this is what will make me read more of his novels – the Tale has been my first – in particular those, that are located in the lower classes like Oliver Twist, David Copperfield and Great Expectations. Dickens has an attentive ear and eye to the misery and sensibility, but also brutality of simple people. Apparently, the Tale is his most sold novel, but I expect his narrative strength to surface much more in his contemporary stories.

I am taken by his description of the contempt and neglect of the noble classes towards the broader population The leprosy of unreality disfigured every human creature in attendance upon Monseigneur. What a sentence! At the same time Dickens shows that the lawless brutality of a revolution, when the mop rules the streets and courts (!) is not the solution. All too often it is the last feature of the motto Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death what people experience. Innocence is no longer a reason for not being punished if you have the wrong parentage. Not only social classes are turned upside down, but also reason (prisoners are incarcerated with the words For the love of Liberty) and social habit like singing and dancing, that, once innocent … a healthy pastime changed into a means of angering the blood and bewildering the senses like the Carmagnole. Although there are also some funny situations, like Cruncher’s pretended education (Anno Dominoes) or Mrs Pross’s asperity, it is the injustice, violence and brutality of people in feudal or revolutionary regimes that will stay with me as main impression from this book.

The first Dickens book I've read in a long time, aside from my in-depth, tear-apart-and-lose-all-enjoyment-therefore-culminating-in-another-go-in-many-years read of Hard Times for University, and I was excited to read it, purely because, having seen the ITV adaptation on telly a while ago, I could re-enact the Sydney Carton senarios using the face of the delectable Dirk Bogarde. (FYI Dirk Bogarde versus Richard Attenborough in a black-and-white bout of fisticuffs would only cause me to faint like a Eighteenth Century dandy witnessing the revealing of a piano's ankles.)

Though set in the late-Eighteenth Century surrounding the Reign of Terror that was the French Revolution, Dickens has still encapsulated everything that matters to those less fortunate than others (in this scenario it's French peasants). There is an interesting love triangle, though not at the forefront of the plot to begin with, makes it mark toward the end, with a scoop of suitors to boot, along with a collective of amusing old men and fiesty women. Very Dickens.

n  A KNIT OF TWO TALESn

Reading Dickens’s approach to historical fiction, at first I could not help but remember Romola, which I read recently. And even if Romola seemed to have more of a Victorian than a Florentine Renaissance tone, the story and the context were very nicely woven together.

While with A Tale I felt I as reading two separate stories. One was a the result of conscientious research, and Dickens in his Preface acknowledges Carlyle’s wonderful book, and the other was a more melodramatic tale with Gothic overtones. The two meanings of the word historia separated: history and story.

May be it was because Dickens was dealing with a convulsive period that was still too close to him and his contemporaries. Its threats must have resonated with a greater echo after the 1848 revolutions that again swept through France as well as other European countries. When he wrote his novel only a decade had passed since that latest wave of violence and political turmoil. These more recent revolutions must have had the effect of a magnifying glass when Dickens read and reread Carlyle’s study, study which had, however, been written before, in 1837. One can certainly feel Dickens alarm at the dangers that loom over humanity. His horror came first, and then he tried to horrify his readers.

And yet, as my reading proceeded, I began to feel how these two axis or needles were pulling out something together. And I think it is Dickens excellent writing, with his uses of repetitions, or anaphora; his complex set of symbols—and I am beginning to become familiar with the Dickens iconography; his idiosyncratic mixture of humour and drama; his use of alliteration and onomatopoeia; his extraordinary development of images—and I think this novel has some of the best I have read by him; and his ability to sustain a positive core within a great deal of drab, that succeeds in making those two needles knit something coherent and consistent.

And indeed my favourite image was the Knitting, which Dickens develops throughout the novel, with all its mythological weight--that binds the threads of fate and volition, of patience and disquiet, of love and hatred--, which became for me also the knitting of the writer. The periodic and steady rhythm of Knit and Purl produced with threads of words, meshing in the melodrama and the emotions, the varying colours with their lights and shadows, increasing or decreasing the episodes with literary tricks such as adding a new thread or character or knitting two stiches in one go by solving a mystery. And this he achieved by handling with shrewd dexterity his two needles of ‘story’ and ‘history’, his two tales.


So, as I came to the end I had to admit that , yes, the Tale of Two Tales has woven for me a magnificent novel. There has been somewhat of a 'Resurrection' in my reading too.

“A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other" p.47

I feel guilty for not liking this book for the first 50-100 pages or so. I don't know what it is with me and "classics", it takes me so long to get into them and I get frustrated and impatient too quickly. For a book with one of the greatest opening paragraphs ever written ("It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...") I felt duped. It was a set up. How can the first page be so wonderful and then lead me into a fast descent towards snooze-city? A couple of times I was ready to throw in the towel, but I told myself I was going to finish it. It's Dickens, by damn, I want to finish it! And I want to like it! So I made myself keep going, a chapter a day, maybe two chapters... The frustrating thing was that there were so many lush passages but they all seemed to be crushed and overshadowed between endless overly long descriptive paragraphs. My mind wandered. I admit I became lost at times and had to pull in the reigns and slow down...I'm a notoriously over-eager fast reader. I just needed to concentrate a little more closely.

And then it started to come together for me. Finally! Not only that, but it started to become profound and beautiful. And I started to lose sleep and delay meals unable to put it down.

“The beach was a desert of heaps of sea and stones tumbling wildly about, and the sea did what it liked, and what it liked was destruction. It thundered at the town, and thundered at the cliffs, and brought the coast down madly." p.53

“Sadly, sadly, the sun rose; it rose upon no sadder sight than the man of good abilities and good emotions, incapable of their directed exercise, incapable of his own help and his own happiness, sensible of the blight on him, and resigning himself to let it eat him away." p.122

In the final few chapters the story climaxes so spectacularly, so unexpectedly emotional and dramatic and poetic that I actually gasped aloud. How many books can do that? The final few pages might just be among my favorite final pages ever read. I read them several times with goosebumps. Such a satisfying and poignant end to what was a complex, multi-layered and brilliantly constructed story.

I think I fell in love with Carton just a little.

“I am like one who died young. All my life might have been." p. 181

“It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.” p.401

Be still my heart.

“I hardly seem yet,” returned Charles Darnay, “to belong to this world again.” “I don’t wonder at it; it’s not so long since you were pretty far advanced on your way to another."

Στην Ελλάδα διαβάζουμε τα βιβλία του Dickens στην παιδική ηλικία, συνήθως σε προσαρμοσμένες εκδοχές που έχουν μικρή σχέση με το ίδιο το έργο. Αυτό είναι καλό, βεβαίως, γιατί έτσι έρχεται κανείς από μικρή ηλικία σε επαφή με έναν πολύ σημαντικό συγγραφέα, αλλά ταυτόχρονα και ανεπαρκές, γιατί είναι δύσκολο για ένα παιδί να πιάσει όλη την ευφυΐα που κρύβει μια ιστορία του Charles και το αστείρευτο χιούμορ του. Έτσι κι εγώ με την "Ιστορία δύο Πόλεων", την είχα διαβάσει παιδί, μου άρεσε, αλλά εκείνη η εμπειρία δεν είχε καμία σχέση με την εμπειρία της ανάγνωσης του πλήρους βιβλίου και μάλιστα στο πρωτότυπο, παρότι ήξερα τι γίνεται στο τέλος.

Στα αγγλικά θαυμάζεις την υπέροχη γλώσσα, το κέντημα των χαρακτήρων, την απλή και δυνατή αφήγηση. Ο Dickens παριστά ανάγλυφα το πνεύμα της εποχής της Γαλλικής Επανάστασης, του τρόμου και της αναρχίας που επικράτησε (από το 1792 τουλάχιστον), του παραλογισμού της γκιλοτίνας που έπεφτε με ρυθμούς αστραπής (έχει και μια ποιητική αδεία φυσικά, αλλά και πώς αλλιώς θα μπορούσε να είναι).

Ιδανικό βιβλίο για τις γιορτές, κάντε το δώρο στους αγαπημένους σας ή και στον εαυτό σας!