Famiglia e Società, i due poli dell’orrore borghese

La piccola Dorrit è il secondo capitolo della trilogia dickensiana da me letta in questo periodo, e presenta numerose analogie con il precedente, ovvero Martin Chuzzlewit.
Anche in questo caso ci troviamo infatti di fronte ad un romanzo corposo, che supera le mille pagine; anche in questo caso, inoltre, si tratta di un romanzo che non ha avuto nel nostro paese una eccessiva fortuna editoriale. A dire il vero nel secondo dopoguerra il romanzo ha avuto molte edizioni, ma si tratta quasi esclusivamente di edizioni ridotte, per ragazzi, nelle quali presumibilmente le poche pagine estratte dal testo originale (si pensi che una edizione è ridotta a 73 pagine!) accentuano i contenuti melodrammatici e i buoni sentimenti che, pur abbondantemente presenti nel romanzo, non ne costituiscono senza dubbio il tratto essenziale, essendo anzi a mio avviso quelli che in qualche modo ne mettono in discussione la forza complessiva.
Così, l’edizione Einaudi del 2003, che riprende la storica traduzione di Vittoria Rossi Ancona accompagnandola con una illuminate prefazione di Carlo Pagetti, rappresenta ancora oggi l’unica possibilità di avere in libreria questo classico della letteratura inglese. Prima di addentrarmi nei meandri di quest’opera senza dubbio complessa e sfaccettata, mi sia permessa però una breve divagazione di ordine estetico. All’inizio di questa recensione si trova la copertina dell’edizione 2003, da me letta, mentre in rete si può trovare quella della nuova edizione, datata 2019. Entrambe rappresentano una ragazza, ma che differenza tra la misurata eleganza della prima e la puerilità della seconda, che sembra pensata per ammiccare al lettore e indurlo a pensare ad un romanzo davvero scritto per ragazzi. Come ho detto altre volte, trovo questa decadenza delle copertine - che in Einaudi assume toni drammatici in quanto è stata gettata a mare una vera e propria cultura della sobrietà e dell’eleganza - uno dei segni – non certo il più importante ma forse il più emblematico – della decadenza dell’editoria un tempo di qualità.
Del resto l’ennesima piccola caduta di stile di Einaudi, sicuramente dettata dagli strateghi del marketing al fine di vendere qualche copia in più, ha un precedente importante proprio nell’autore, se è vero che – come ci dice Carlo Pagetti – il titolo del romanzo avrebbe dovuto essere, sino a poco prima della pubblicazione del primo fascicolo nel dicembre del 1855, Nobody’s Fault, allusione al fatto che le drammatiche vicende raccontate nel romanzo non erano il frutto del carattere dei singoli personaggi, ma della crudeltà del mondo in cui vivevano. La scelta del titolo definitivo, ponendo al centro dell’attenzione la protagonista, che è anche il personaggio più melodrammatico del romanzo, rispondeva anch’essa – per uno scrittore pienamente integrato nonché dipendente dai meccanismi dell’industria culturale vittoriana – al fine ultimo di far cassa, fornendo al lettore un prodotto almeno apparentemente più rassicurante.
Al pari della grande maggioranza dei romanzi di Dickens, anche La piccola Dorrit è un’opera complessa ed articolata, in cui compaiono svariati personaggi, le cui storie a volte si intrecciano a volte si dipanano in parallelo. Quasi tutti questi personaggi fanno parte di un nucleo familiare, e ciascuna delle famiglie che appaiono nel romanzo è attraversata a modo suo da conflitti, dolori ed infelicità: è necessario entrare un po’ nel dettaglio, perché ritengo che la critica dell’ordine familiare, la messa a nudo delle tensioni, delle ipocrisie e delle violenze come vero cemento dei legami familiari costituisca uno dei tratti più significativi del romanzo, tanto più se si pensa al periodo storico in cui fu scritto.
Due sono le famiglie protagoniste del romanzo: I Dorrit e i Clennam. Queste due famiglie abitano tra l’altro nei due luoghi focali delle vicende narrate, ed a questi si deve far riferimento per capire meglio le relazioni che intercorrono tra i loro componenti.
I Dorrit sono quattro. Il padre, William, è stato rinchiuso in prigione per debiti oltre vent’anni prima le vicende narrate, ambientate attorno al 1825. Secondo le regole dell’epoca, chi andava in prigione per debiti non ne poteva uscire sinché il debito non fosse stato saldato: inoltre la famiglia, volendo, poteva abitare con il condannato. Per questo la prigione per i debitori, chiamata Marshalsea, era una vera e propria città nella città, una sorta di enorme, squallido condominio dotato di spazi comuni, cortili interni ed in continua comunicazione con l’esterno. La Marshalsea (che all’epoca della scrittura del romanzo era già stata chiusa e in gran parte demolita) compare anche ne Il circolo Pickwick, e Dickens la conosceva molto bene perché, lui ragazzo, per alcuni mesi vi era stato rinchiuso suo padre. William Dorrit è l’inquilino anziano della prigione, il padre della comunità dei reclusi, che più o meno ironicamente lo onorano e gli offrono piccole elemosine, che egli accetta considerandole tributi alla sua autorità. È così immerso nella sua parte, che gli consente di sopravvivere moralmente, da trattare con superiorità il fratello, che si barcamena suonando il clarinetto, e da non accorgersi (o fingere di non accorgersi) che il suo sostentamento materiale viene dai lavori di cucito che la figlia minore Amy (la piccola Dorrit del titolo) svolge presso case signorili. I due figli maggiori, un maschio e una femmina, cercano in vari modi di non farsi riconoscere come figli di un detenuto, e disprezzano Amy per il suo essere figlia della Marshalsea. Le tensioni familiari crescono quando la situazione dei Dorrit cambia, e di fatto la famiglia si sfalda tra accuse e sospetti reciproci che fanno della piccola Amy il capro espiatorio di un passato socialmente imbarazzante che gli altri vorrebbero dimenticare. La figlia maggiore formerà una sua famiglia, sposando un imbecille solo per essere ammessa in Società (con la esse maiuscola) .
Anche i Clennam sono una famiglia infelice: la madre di Arthur, coprotagonista del romanzo, è una donna dura, dedita agli affari, che non ha mai provato alcun affetto per il figlio ed ha sempre comandato sul debole marito, ora morto. I Flintwinch, i due domestici di casa Clennam sono a loro volta sposati. Il matrimonio è stato combinato dalla Signora Clennam e tra i due non c’è mai stato il minimo amore, anzi: Jeremiah Flintwinch tratta la povera moglie Affery come un’idiota e la picchia spesso.
Nel romanzo appaiono anche altre famiglie: tra queste i Merdle e i Meagles svolgono un ruolo significativo nelle vicende narrate, e il lettore potrà scoprire quali abissi di stupidità e ipocrisia Dickens faccia emergere da rapporti familiari e sociali apparentemente irreprensibili. Non sfugga infine che il cattivo a tutto tondo del romanzo, Rigaud, inizia la sua carriera con un uxoricidio.
Se la destrutturazione del mito vittoriano (ma anche odierno) della famiglia luogo dell’amore è una delle cornici di fondo entro le quali si sviluppa il romanzo, l’altra è senza dubbio la critica nei confronti dell’organizzazione sociale, per sviluppare la quale Dickens mette in campo tutto l’armamentario del suo talento narrativo.
La più pura satira Dickensiana la troviamo infatti nei capitoli dedicati alla tecno-burocrazia inglese dell’epoca, magistralmente personificata nell’Ufficio delle Circonlocuzioni e nella schiatta dei suoi eterni reggenti, i Barnacle. Merita di essere riportato come nel capitolo X Dickens introduce l’Ufficio.
”Codesto glorioso istituto era sorto quando gli uomini di Stato avevano scoperto quanto fosse difficile governare il paese; era stato il primo a studiare l’essenza di questa sublime rivelazione e a estenderne la brillante influenza su tutta la procedura ufficiale. Qualunque cosa ci fosse da fare, l’Ufficio delle Circonlocuzioni era alla testa di tutti gli altri uffici pubblici nello scovare il modo di non farla.”
A capo e nelle varie ramificazioni di questo fantastico ufficio vi sono da sempre i componenti della famiglia (non a caso anche qui una famiglia) Barnacle, che nei secoli si sono sposati solo con gli Stiltstalking, perpetuando il loro potere assoluto sul popolo e sugli stessi politici. Sono sublimi, per la tipica dura bonomia di Dickens, le pagine nelle quali conosciamo i meandri degli uffici, i vari Barnacle che li dirigono e le strategie del non fare.
Sicuramente più drammatici sono i toni con i quali Dickens narra la parabola di Mr. Merdle, avventuriero del mondo della finanza da tutti osannato per la sua spregiudicatezza, che tutti trascina nella sua rovina e che tutti disconoscono il giorno successivo a questa. Dickens anche in altri romanzi ci ha descritto altoborghesi malfattori, ma per quanto ho letto di lui sinora credo di poter dire che nessuno come Mr. e Ms. Merdle siano descritti in modo così vivido come il prodotto naturale di un mondo corrotto, nel quale l’unico metro di giudizio sono il successo economico e l’apparire in Società (meravigliosa a questo proposito la riduzione per sineddoche di Ms. Merdle al suo enorme seno, il cui compito è quello di sostenere i gioielli di cui si adorna). A completamento della figura di Mr. Merdle e della critica al potere finanziario e speculativo, nel romanzo appare anche il prototipo dello strozzino, rappresentato da Mr Casby.
Non posso a questo punto fare a meno di chiedermi se sia mai stata compiuta un’analisi dei nomi in Dickens: Merdle (l’autore conosceva certamente bene la lingua francese) è solo la punta di diamante di una infilata che solo in questo romanzo annovera i già citati Stiltstalking e Flintwinch, una signora Wade e l’italiano Giovanbattista Cavalletto.
Oltre ai personaggi principali, come capita quasi sempre nelle opere maggiori di Dickens il romanzo presenta straordinari tipi umani, la cui caratterizzazione è affidata a geniali colpi di colore narrativo. Su tutti il complesso personaggio di Pancks, che per il respiro sbuffante diviene spesso un rimorchiatore che quando si muove lascia la darsena; inoltre Flora, ex fidanzata di Arthur Clennam, per la quale Dickens - prendendo in giro una sua ex fiamma riapparsa dopo decenni – inventa un linguaggio sconnesso e sconclusionato che pare l’anticipazione ironica del monologo interiore (e che potremmo definire monologo esteriore), e infine quel piccolo meraviglioso cameo che è la zia del defunto marito di Flora.
La piccola Dorrit è, oltre che un romanzo di personaggi, anche un romanzo nel quale i luoghi rivestono una importanza primaria per definirne l’atmosfera complessivamente cupa. Protagonista assoluta in questo senso è la città di Londra, che viene presentata come caotica e rumorosa o spesso come una successione di vicoli bui, luridi e maleodoranti. Di questa Londra notturna e soffocante due sono come già detto i punti focali: la prigione della Marshalsea e casa Clennam.
La prima è un vero e proprio piccolo universo labirintico, in senso geografico ed umano. Qui troviamo, estremizzate, le miserie che caratterizzano la città, ed il fatto che in questa prigione viva anche chi non deve scontare alcuna colpa, che chiunque possa entrare e uscire liberamente (fatti salvi i detenuti) accentua nel lettore la sensazione che la Marshalsea sia Londra, ovvero che tutta Londra sia una immensa Marshalsea, nella quale albergano la costrizione, la miseria e il sopruso ma anche inaspettati slanci di solidarietà e nobiltà d’animo. In questo senso poco distingue la prigione dalla Corte del Cuore sanguinante, il quartiere dove abitano i proletari vittime dello strozzinaggio di Mr. Casby.
L’altro polo della Londra de La piccola Dorrit è casa Clennam, tetra e deserta, puntellata da un lato perché non cada, abitata da alcune delle figure più cupe del romanzo. Se questa casa è la rappresentazione fisica dell’orrore, o quantomeno delle ambiguità, che stanno alla base dell’istituto familiare, la Marshalsea, che si estende idealmente a tutta la città, lo è della crudeltà dei rapporti sociali, quando la società è basata sul denaro e sul suo possesso. È in quest’ottica significativo, a mio avviso, che prima della (parziale) redenzione finale Arthur Clennam debba vivere in entrambi gli edifici, scontando quindi sia il dramma familiare sia quello sociale.
Oltre a Londra il romanzo ci presenta anche un po’ di Italia. È l’Italia del Gran Tour, ironicamente intrapreso dai Dorrit arricchiti quale passo obbligato del loro accreditamento sociale, centrato su Venezia e Roma. Se non è un’Italia da cartolina, è anche vero che le due città raramente emergono con una personalità propria, perché nell’economia del romanzo è sufficiente che facciano da sfondo esotico alle vicende dei Dorrit.
Un elemento che differenzia sottilmente La piccola Dorrit da altri romanzi di Dickens è il finale. Apparentemente siamo di fronte al solito happy end dickensiano, cui si giunge per avvenimenti poco probabili, ma a guardar bene le cose stanno diversamente. Si ripensi a come Dickens tratta la famiglia in tutto il romanzo e quindi si rifletta sul fatto che Amy e Arthur vanno a formare anche loro una famiglia.
Del resto che il finale sia quantomeno aperto rispetto al canone e vissero felici e contenti è testimoniato proprio dalla chiosa del romanzo: ”Scesero tranquillamente nelle vie fragorose, benedetti e inseparabili; e mentre passavano dal sole all’ombra, la gente vana e rumorosa, arrogante, bisbetica, avida, si affannava e sudava, arrabattandosi nel solito strepito fragoroso.” Come dire che il mondo continua ad essere lo stesso, ed è in tale mondo che i due continueranno a vivere. Davvero Nobody’s fault sarebbe stato un titolo più azzeccato.
Tutto questo splendore narrativo è comunque pur sempre opera di Dickens, ed in quanto tale non poteva mancare il personaggio debole, che come è facile intuire è proprio la protagonista. Anche in questo caso l’autore sprofonda nella melassa più pura, descrivendoci una bambina di 22 anni (!) che sacrifica sé stessa al padre, che ama incondizionatamente i fratelli che la svillaneggiano, che non osa amare Arthur sentendosi del tutto inferiore a lui: un personaggio tutto bontà ed abnegazione che giustifica le numerose riduzioni per ragazzi. Dickens però è anche questo, e non bisogna mai dimenticare che scriveva per un pubblico che pretendeva di avere buoni sentimenti e di poter versare lacrime: probabilmente questo era il dazio da pagare per poter tratteggiare Mr. e Ms. Merdle, Mr. Casby, Ms. Clennam e le loro comicamente tragiche famiglie. Per averci dato loro possiamo quindi perdonargli volentieri la piccola, insopportabile Amy Dorrit e continuare ad amarlo pur con tutti i suoi difetti di scrittore mainsteram.

{2024 Reread}

Do I still think that Dickens is overrated? Yes. Do I maintain what I have said before and will say again after this – namely, that he is actually at his weakest as a sociopolitical critic? Yes.

But does he still have me covering my face and kicking my feet and squealing at certain moments in this book? ALSO YES.

n  Consider the improbability.

But, it had a preponderating tendency, when considered, to become fainter. There was another and a curious enquiry of his own heart’s that concurrently became stronger. In the reluctance he had felt to believe that she loved any one; in his desire to set that question at rest; in a half-formed consciousness he had had, that there would be a kind of nobleness in his helping her love for any one; was there no suppressed something on his own side that he had hushed as it arose? Had he ever whispered to himself that he must not think of such a thing as her loving him, that he must not take advantage of her gratitude, that he must keep his experience in remembrance as a warning and reproof; that he must regard such youthful hopes as having passed away . . . that he must be steady in saying to himself that the time had gone by him, and he was too saddened and old?

He had kissed her when he raised her from the ground, on the day when she had been so consistently and expressively forgotten. Quite as he might have kissed her, if she had been conscious? No difference?n  
n  
n  
n  n

There’s so much that could be said, both positive and negative, about how Dickens handles this tricky age-gap romance, but I’m not particularly inclined to say it at the moment. The balance comes out to the good, imho, and it entertains me to no end that Dickens wrote it in such a fangirly way. He knew what he was doing, teasing his readers with a slow burn and dropping little hints here and there, and I find that excessively diverting.

Beyond that, the novel has plenty of flaws. It's twice as long as it needs to be (Charles John Huffam Dickens, Certified Yapper™ since 1833*), there are random flashes of casual racism, and I would have appreciated a more nuanced resolution of Harriet and the Meagleses' treatment of her.

However, there are some good elements at play here, too. I will say, in justice to Charlie, that he deserves his flowers for his keen observation of human nature. He understood (and could articulate) what makes people tick, and that’s not nothing. The cast of characters in this story is a memorable one, with some excellently drawn antagonists (Miss Wade is fascinating; Blandois is unforgettable) and some even more excellently drawn protagonists (Pancks, I love you! Cavaletto, I love you! Flora, I love you! Fanny, I (weirdly) love you, too! Sparkler, I love you! John Chivery, I love you!). Additionally, despite my cynicism about him as a dramatist, Dickens does churn out a couple of genuinely moving and disturbing scenes in this book. (William’s and Frederick’s deaths spring to mind, for example, and the detail of Merdle asking Fanny for a penknife with a specifically dark handle, knowing how he was going to use it, is actually chilling.)

In short, I'm less disposed to overlook the novel's flaws now than I was when I first read it, but I still like it as a whole.

* (The date of his first publication. I’m aware that he was born in 1812. I can make no speculations as to his yappiness at birth.)

{Original 2018 Review}

n  John's incredulous face slowly softened into a face of doubt. He rose, backed into the garret window of the room, beckoned Arthur to come there, and stood looking at him thoughtfully.

"Mr Clennam, do you mean to say that you don't know?"

"What, John?"n

Mr. Dickens, I have misjudged you.

I've never loved Dickens. I've appreciated him as the objectively strong author that he is, but I never used to like him very much. Reading Bleak House and Great Expectations changed that somewhat, as I found that his stories actually could resonate with me. I've read a tiny bit of Oliver Twist and have been surprised and delighted by the amount of humor it. And then I read Little Dorrit, and found that he challenged my misconceptions about him even more.

There were all the things I've come to expect in a Dickens novel: good writing, drama, funny bits, (perhaps too) many and varied characters, mystery, light, despair, etc. But there was one thing in this book that I didn't expect, and that truly almost shocked me at times: tenderness. Real tenderness, a love story so feelingly told as to be surprisingly, powerfully touching.

I was thoroughly captivated by Amy and Arthur's relationship. At times, it didn't even seem like I was reading a classic -- it felt like I was simply in the midst of a BBC production, Dickens' writing was so accessible and, in a way, vulnerable. (Of course, this may or may not have been hugely helped along by the fact that I kept recalling as many parts of the movie as I could -- which weren't many, since I've only seen it once and didn't like it very much. Now, however, I can't wait to watch it again, since I feel confident I'll be able to appreciate it more. And how could I help thinking about the movie, with Claire Foy's pensive little face staring at me every time I picked up the book?)

Two other characters that I remembered liking from the movie -- Flora and Mr. Pancks -- were also just as satisfactory (probably more so) in the book. I loved Flora's monologues, and Mr. Pancks . . . well, Mr. Pancks is just priceless. They both provided no inconsiderable amount of comic relief. Indeed, one part with Mr. Pancks actually made me physically laugh, which almost never happens in a book.

n  "If they had - " Clennam was going on to say; when Mr Pancks, without change of countenance, produced a sound so far surpassing all his usual efforts, nasal or bronchial, that he stopped.

"If they had?" repeated Pancks in an enquiring tone.

"I thought you - spoke," said Arthur, hesitating what name to give the interruption.n

I don't know, fam. It was just a really, really good book. I'm still slightly shooketh by how much Dickens was able to latch onto my heart -- I'm still so awed and appreciative that he wrote the story in such a human way. It just . . . it was just different than anything I expected from Dickens. Have I said that enough??

4.5 stars!

I started reading this book with the Goodreads Group Dickensians led by Jean (Bionic Jean) who loves Charles Dickens. She lives in the United Kingdom and has much insight into Charles Dickens himself and the locations described within this story. It is a great group of people to read along with.

When I picked up Little Dorrit, I read the first sentence of the Introduction: “If you have never read Little Dorrit before, you might want to save this Introduction for an Afterword.” Well, I have been skipping Introductions anyway because I discovered early - sometimes there are spoilers. So, this was easy to skip.

Now that I have finished, I read the Introduction by David Gates. I had some questions running through my mind and I thought it would be great to read an “expert’s” interpretation. Hmm. I am sure he is an expert, but I disagree with a few of his analysis pieces. Am I allowed to do this? Well, here I go. There are some statements Mr. Gates makes in this Intro that I disagree. Or, maybe, better stated: I had a difference of interpretation.

This story is about a young girl, Little Dorrit, growing up in the Marshalsea Prison, in London. Her father, William Dorrit, was a debtor in for several years. His wife and other two other children were living within these walls when Little Dorrit was born. The story proceeds through her life and all she encounters along the way.

The theme is imprisonments. Imprisoned in an institution; Imprisoned in many other aspects of life. Great analogies of imprisonment throughout this story.

So, after mulling over everything, I changed my mind. I realize a 3-Star rating of Little Dorrit is a bit low. I waxed and waned throughout this read, but mostly was positive. There were a few spots I became exasperated, but after rereading these exasperating sections, I would see a different perspective, settle down, and continue onward.

Previous to finishing Little Dorrit, I had read only four Charles Dickens’ novels:

David Copperfield
Oliver Twist (many years ago)
The Old Curiosity Shop
A Christmas Carol

I have said, for those I’ve read, how much I love his writing. Again, Dickens does not disappoint with his descriptive writing here in Little Dorrit.

Many parts in this story were touching and several parts were absolutely Hilarious! Dickens’ writing is exceptional (as always), and his character development is superb! And, there were All kinds of “characters”! Good vs. Evil kind of characters.

A mystery is intermingled within this story that has a nice twist.

Like I hinted earlier, parts were tough reading, no doubt. And, my brain was definitely challenged. But, I consider it a good challenge!

I got bogged down about half-way through the book and considered putting it on my “try-again-later” shelf. But I realized there was little chance I’d pick it back up again and so decided today to push through to the end.

I hadn’t read a Dickens novel in many years, so I’d forgotten how long and convoluted and melodramatic they could be. But none of those things is the reason I wasn’t enjoying it. After all, one of my favorite books of all time is The Count of Monte Cristo, which is just as convoluted and melodramatic, and even longer than Little Dorrit. I’m used to reading long classics. I expected to settle into the story, take my time and just enjoy... but the enjoyment never came. Instead I was irritated by the characters and impatient with the tediousness of the story. I knew that once I’d finished the book, I would never read it again. The story and characters are typical Dickens; they just aren't engaging enough to hold my interest.

That said, the narration by Anton Lesser is truly excellent and the reason I've given it 3 stars. I highly recommend this version if you are thinking about tackling Little Dorrit and like audiobooks.

I’m glad I finished the book. I wish I’d enjoyed it more...

Emerging from Little Dorrit like Clennam from the Marshalsea Prison, after debts are paid and the story over, I feel a little bit like him as well!

How could you possibly leave a place like Dickens' Little Dorrit, once you were locked up with the characters? How could you possibly stray from the fate of the Dorrits and the Meagleses and the Merdles and the Casbys and Finchings and Panckses and Plornishes and Chiverys and Blandois-Rigauds?

When you are locked up in the dark corner of Dickens' late work, you don't have the freedom to take a walk in the bright sunshine of other books. You don't have the free air to breathe in a Goodreads review and send off some comments here and there, just for the easy-going pleasure of it. YOU HAVE TO STICK IT OUT! A thousand pages, a thousand feelings, a thousand worries to share. After a thousand pages, the paperback book will have a story of its own to tell: ripped and torn and smudged and folded and squeezed and cherished and stroked with the caring hand of Amy Dorrit, it will tell the story of the reader who dropped everything and forgot the rest to make sure that a house came crashing down on the evil spirit of Blandois and that Dorrit's riches wouldn't stay to prevent Amy's happiness.

Society - that Invisible Monster - came out quite unscathed, as always, but for Little Dorrit and her friends, and for Clennam and Doyce in particular, failing in the social and financial machinery will only make them stronger in pursuing what is truly happiness: community and friendship and love in the strangest of places.

Locked up or set free: hearts are never prisoners in the company of those they love.

I love Dickens. Any and all.

--
Read with Victorians! Jan 2011. Just reminds me how much I love Dickens.

As I began this, the tone of it made me wonder and I had to look up a list of Dickens' works to see where this one fell. It sounded darker, more cynical, more like "Hard Times" to me than the more lighthearted and sarcastic things like "Oliver." It was indeed published just after "Hard Times." Funny, then I read on a Dickens site the very same observation.

I actually like the tone of the later books better. When I read "Oliver" to my kids, it was hard to explain some of the sarcasm, I just let it float on over. Though there are still laugh-out-loud moments in LD, it's not quite the same kind of humor. Not so facetious, more geniuine humor.

Anyway, it seems perhaps that Dickens realized the importance of some of his themes more fully, and portrayed them in a more realistic and desperate, even heart-wrenching way rather than in trying to make the subjects more light, ludicrous or silly.

In many of his works, Dickens takes on a social institution he wanted to examine. LD is government as a whole (the Circumlocution Office), the debtor's prison system, fawning Society. ("Oliver" --workhouse, orphanage, crime society; "Nicholas"--English Boarding Schools; "Bleak House"--Chancery or the law; "Hard Times"--English education system; and others). I have never read much about how Dickens was received (except in terms of popularity), but I wonder how he was received in terms of changing anything about the ills of his world. (Oh, I do remember reading something to the fact that the horrible boarding schools were scrutinzed and after almost eradicated, but I can't be sure about it and don't wish to research it right this moment.) I also know that in one of the Barchester Chronicles Anthony Trollope calls Dickens "Mr. Popular Sentiment." Funny.

Anway, I also know that Dickens has been criticized in that all his stories seem to come full circle in such a "coincidental" way--every character has something do with every other character in some significant way--and sometimes in such a far-fetched way. However, perhaps the genius of Dickens is that, even so, it works. It really, really, works. The reader runs the full gamut of emotion as well, and usually not in a apathetic way, but in a full-out deeply felt way. Laugh-out-loud, disgust, full-out, chest-heaving weeping (in sadness and in joy). The other criticism levelled at him are that so many of his characters seem to be caricatures, not "real" people. I beg to disagree, and that is what makes it work so well. Sure, he does bring out some character traits that seem over the top and some of his descriptions are almost garish, but it still works. Some of his side characters are not as fleshed-out, of course (the book is already 900 pages!) But I felt that I glimpsed deeply into the soul of a real human in Arthur and Amy, and even into some of the side characters such as Fanny, Pancks, Flora and Minnie. They are beautiful, real creations.

That is what I love about Dickens. Despite that it may seem that he loved to poke fun and laugh at the ludicrous side of humanity, I think his deep love for it is what really shines and makes people love his books.

One last thing I know he is criticised for, which I'd like to wonder about here. It has been said that his main women characters are of two unbelievable sorts: 1) evil, heartless, foolish and designing women; or 2) angels in female form, so good & uncomplaining as to not possibly be true. I know that Amy Dorrit (and Lucy Mannette, TofTC; and Esther Summerson, BH) and would be consigned to that fate. But I'd like to say that no ethereal angel could be so strong and show the character of a real woman as these ladies who really know how to do hard things, and do them. They are heroes, and there are really women out there like them. I'd like to be like them.

Little Dorrit was gorgeous, a beautiful love story in many guises, running mainly in the theme of forgiveness and acceptance.

I kind of love how these tragic figures, after being freed from their prison, become giant assholes. Money apparently really can't buy you happiness! I was also fascinated by the many bad wives in this book. So many wives who were manipulating their husbands, who only married them for money or status, (or in one case in order to make their MIL pay for being rude to them one time, and seriously WTH?!), wives who thought it their Christian duty to make sure everyone suffered in their mortal toil and sin because Such Is Life. I was like, Excuse me, Boz, but what are we trying to say? Hm?

There were, as per the usual, so many characters, many of them very odd, and most of them coming together by the end, having unexpected ties, etc. I did think that some of the characters were left hanging a bit. Tip, for instance, as well as Pet. And what was the deal with Pet's husband?! I'm not sure I approve of that marriage, tbh. I did love that her parents came to regard Arthur (who was GREAT) as the widower of their dead daughter. I mean, it was just so ODD, and yet somehow at the time it made sense and I loved it.

I also loved tiny adorable Little Dorrit herself. She was one of those saintly young Dickens heroines, and yet there was a reason for it. You could clearly see how her birth and upbringing had made her the way she was, and how she would have had such a hard time changing. I think this is my mom's favorite of his books, and I can see why. It was fascinating. Also, it's mentioned as being the favorite of the Spirit of Christmas Present in Connie Willis' wonderful story, Adaptation.

"One always begins to forgive a place as soon as it's been left behind."

Little Dorrit by Charles Dickens, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Before my review of the novel, I'd like to go into a little history. Charles Dickens' father, John, was always a poor manager of his finances - so poor, in fact, that he landed himself in the debtor's prison Marshalsea (sound familiar??). Charles went to work in a boot-blacking factory to help earn money to get his father out of prison, and lived all alone in a run down apartment - at the meager age of 12. The rest of his family lived in the prison with his father. When he was a child, he always dreamed of living in Gad's Hill Place, a house he often walked by as he went around Kent. Fast forward 30 years - Charles Dickens started writing Little Dorrit (published in serial form between 1955-1957). He visited Marshalsea for the first time since his father was released (which only happened because he received a surprise inheritance - sound familiar???). He purchased Gad's Hill House, his childhood dream! And he continued writing his famously popular stories. Little Dorrit is so much more interesting to me, knowing this history of Charles Dickens. He took so much inspiration from his own life that you can't help but appreciate the novel.

Now onto my review. Little Dorrit, a long, elaborate, and sometimes rambling novel, was Dickens' critique on government bureaucracy and British Society as a whole. The Circumlocution office bits were particularly affecting, as were all of the scenes exploring the prison houses. Themes of physical and pyschological imprisonment permeate the narrative.

Little Dorrit, also known as Amy, is one of the sweetest literary heroines I have come across in my reading. She is compassionate, self sacrificing, and lives for those she loves. She was born in the Marshalsea Debtor's prison and knows no other life - until her father is released. This turn in fortunes (Book 2) was so interesting to me. To see how the change in fortunes affected the characters really revealed their true spirit. Arthur Clennam, our main protagonist, is also admirable. I loved his integrity and determination.

The secondary characters really made the story though. Mysterious Mrs Clennam and all of her dark secrets. Mr Flintwich and Affery. Flora, Tattycorum, Ms Wade, the Meagles, the Beadles - it's such a colorful array of characters!

I really enjoyed the mystery, the characters, the social commentary, the beautiful writing, and the touch of romance in this book. Like Bleak House, I hope to read it again someday - and I feel like I will like it even more the second time.

How I loved this book. Dickens is amazing, although, I admit, he is incredibly verbose in this book! But the thing is, I ENJOYED every minute of the verbosity! His sentences are just crammed with meaning. Every paragraph is a sermon on human behavior. He paints each character as a particular human trait. For instance, the character in this book who is torn between being good or evil is a twisted man, literally. His body leans to the side, his head bends over, even his mouth is rather hideously twisted. And as the reader, you find yourself constantly trying to figure out which way he is going to go. I love it! I also enjoyed the Masterpiece movie version of Little Dorrit, which inspired me to read the book. I wonder if I would have loved the book as much as I did if I hadn't fallen in love with the movie first and was already acquainted with each of the characters. It may be difficult to keep everyone in the story straight if you're picking up the book for the first time, but my advice would be to stick with it and don't worry about getting to the end...you'll get there eventually...just enjoy the journey along the way! Loved this book so much.

A forgotten classic, hidden among so many other fine works that Chuck produced. I laughed, I cried and I nearly peed myself because I refused to put the book down.

It has been clinically proven that those who find Dickens too maudlin or sentimental are either emotionally stunted or full-on cold hearted sociopaths. Clinically proven.

Not suprisingly, Kafka loved this book what with the Circumlocution Office and the strange almost alternate reality of Marshalsea Debtors Prison. If you have never read Dickens, give yourself a good hard slap now and get started. Ah Charles, still the champion of the Big Engrossing Superbly Written Novel.

I hadn't known that Charles Dickens' father had been imprisoned in the Marshalsea, at one time, when Dickens was a child. While reading this book is when I found out. This made the book much more realistic and interesting for me. Dickens was writing what he knew. This is what distinguishes between just a good book and a classic (which I can say this is a classic).

The summary found at Goodreads tells us that:

When Arthur Clennam returns to England after many years abroad, he takes a kindly interest in Amy Dorrit, his mother's seamstress, and in the affairs of Amy's father, William Dorrit, a man of shabby grandeur, long imprisoned for debt in the Marshalsea. As Arthur soon discovers, the dark shadow of the prison stretches far beyond its walls to affect the lives of many, from the kindly Mr. Pancks, the reluctant rent-collector of Bleeding Heart Yard, and the tipsily garrulous Flora Finching, to Merdle, an unscrupulous financier, and the bureaucratic Barnacles in the Circumlocution Office.

I had never read this particular book before. I also had never seen the movie. I was at the bookmobile and saw Charles Dickens' name and since I love his books, decided I would borrow it and read it. I read it at a very leisurely pace while savoring Dickens' subtle humorous commentary on human beings and their daily struggles in 19th century Victorian England. The complexity of his characters is, as always, rich with each character responding to their unique circumstances in realistic ways.

Little Dorrit had a variety of themes. Themes such as imprisonment, bureaucracy, selfishness, kindness, pity, despair, and life in all its glories. There were evil twins, people with aliases and even a bitter old woman who is tied to her room by more than meets the eye. I am glad I was able to find and read this book.

Little Dorrit by Charles Dickens is arguably one of the very best fiction books I've read in my entire life. I would unhesitatingly recommend this book to anyone. It was captivating, engaging, and at times humorous, and at other times sad; with romance, mystery, and intrigue. Dickens' plotting is amazing, his characters intriguing, and his descriptions solidly place you in the midst of London in the Victorian Age in all social classes. The message and moral tone of this novel is so incredibly applicable to today's economic and social conditions. A fabulous book; and made even more fabulous with watching the sumptuous Andrew Davies screenplay brought to life in the multi-episode BBC adaptation that aired originally in March-April 2009 on Masterpiece Classics on PBS TV. I think that Little Dorrit is an important book, not only for our time, but anytime, and a book that I simply love to revisit every few years.