Charles Dickens (1812-1870) and scenes from his 16 novels
I had an interesting idea about a year ago. I would finish reading Charles Dickens. I had been reading Great Expectations for the first time since my Freshman year of high school and I figured that aside from stopping there, it might not be a bad idea to continue with the other Dickens novels. All of them. While over the years I had read several of his novels, I was still slightly less than halfway done and I was missing several of his “major” novels. I decided the best way was to approach them chronologically, to get a sense of how he developed over the years, whether the “minor” novels that came early on really deserved such status. After the first few novels, I had timed it out as such so that if I read one novel a month, I would be done by the end of the year, so since March, I have been going through one Dickens novel a month and yesterday, I finally finished with The Mystery of Edwin Drood, the final, 16th, unfinished novel that he was working on when he died in 1870. So here are my thoughts on his novels after spending the last year reading through them all. Some are magnificent, among the best novels ever written while others I would not recommend unless you’re planning to do what I have just done. I read them through in chronological order, but I’m presenting them in a ranking order, based on my own personal preference. If I ever get around to sorting out a list of the 100 Best Novels (regardless of when it was written or in what language), then I’ll probably include the top 2. Maybe #3. We’ll have to see how that eventually plays out. But in the meantime, here’s a slight break from my usual film postings.
Dombey and Son (1848)
16. Dombey and Son
Is Dickens a great author or has his popularity simply prevailed? He certainly was astoundingly popular at his peak and ruled the book-stalls of the times in a way that Dan Brown can only dream of. But how much of it is literature? There is a lot of “minor” Dickens and there is a reason that a lot of it is minor. His penchant for coincidence and sentimentality can mar even the best of his works. But for a minor title like Dombey, there is no saving it. Dombey is so unmemorable that even though I just read it in April, I can’t for the life of me remember anything about it. All I remember is thinking at the time, well, this is the weakest thing Dickens ever wrote.
Martin Chuzzlewit (1844)
This is Dickens’ American novel and the last of his picaresque works. It follows in the tradition of Tom Jones, but it lacks any of the wit or style that Fielding brought to his rogue. While Dickens may have thought this the best of all his novels, there is a reason that it is so rarely read today. There are certainly people who champion it, who talk about the satire with which he depicts America, a satire that certainly bears some resonance today. But I found the attempts at satire and wit to fall flat and was completely uninterested in Martin as a character. As I write this, I want to move Martin to the last spot on the list, but I read this right before I read Dombey and I remember thinking at the time that Dombey was definitely the weakest, so I’ll follow along with my original instincts. Certainly unless you’re a Dickens completist (or have OCD like me), I can’t really recommend either of these lowest two.
The Pickwick Papers (1837)
Pickwick was the novel that began it all. It first began to be serialized in 1836, following on the immense success of Sketches by Boz and was issued as a complete novel in 1837. It took me three tries to finally complete back in January. I’ve owned a copy for years (ever since college in fact) and it was one of the novels that first lead me to believe how little regard I have for Victorian Literature. While more exposure in the years since to the Brontes and Thomas Hardy has lead me to a greater appreciation, this is still a novel that stumps me. It is one of the few works of literature that I will admit that I just might not get. True, it is hard for modern readers because of its random style (extremely episodic, both as a result of being a first novel and because of the style of publication), but there is so much talk of the humor of the book and certainly none of that ever settled in with me. So, while widely regarded as a classic, let’s just settle it that it doesn’t find much favor with me and settles down towards the bottom of the Dickens list.
13. The Mystery of Edwin Drood
The Mystery of Edwin Drood - unfinished when Dickens died in 1870, but published later that year
Would this have ranked higher if it had been completed? I’m not entirely certain of that. I just sense that somewhere beyond what was completed would have been a descent into coincidence and sentimentality that would have belied any of the darker mystery and the final fate of Edwin Drood. For some reason lately this novel has managed to pick up some steam, with various modern writers taking their own stab at what might have happened later in the story. By the time I finally got to Drood, the Dickens was starting to wear on me. I had been through several of his very long major works that I found to be over-rated and I kept thinking this was in the same vein. It took so long to finally get going that even though Dickens had finished half the planned chapters and only taken 250 pages, I couldn’t help but think that the remaining chapters would somehow have pushed the book closer to the 800 page mark once again.
Our Mutual Friend (1865)
I have no objections to long novels. I read Lord of the Rings every year and I wouldn’t take out a single word of The Brothers Karamazov or Ulysses. But I find that many shorter novels end up being much stronger, not because they are shorter, but because they find ways to be more succinct. I look at Our Mutual Friend or Bleak House and I understand what people talk about in terms of being one of the “major” novels and about the themes and the psychological explorations that Dickens undertakes long before the advent of Sigmund Freud, but then I look at the length and I try to slog through all the pages and I throw up my arms and go, “enough already.” Look at the top two works on this list, also written during the major period, but much shorter novels. That doesn’t make them better in and of themselves, but they also never drag, not for a single page, whereas Our Mutual Friend takes so long to get anywhere and so much longer to keep going that there is only so much I can do with a theme and psychological insight.
11. Bleak House
Bleak House (1853)
Bleak House, to me, suffers from some of the same problems as Our Mutual Friend. Yes, you can do a longer novel, such as David Copperfield or Nicholas Nickleby, provided you can keep the story interesting enough to justify the length. But Dickens does not possess the psychological depth of Dostoevsky or Tolstoy or the modernist style of Joyce to maintain such a length without the story to provide it. So Bleak House becomes another of his major novels that falls short for me. Is it worth reading? Yes, certainly everything from Our Mutual Friend up to the top of the list is worth reading in one manner or another. Would I ever assign it to students? No. Would I ever read it again? Highly unlikely. I wanted to get through all of Dickens at least once, but I can’t imagine reading anything again that fell below the top 7.
The Old Curiosity Shop (1841)
“Is Little Nell alive?” the crowds would yell at the ships as they came in to the docks in New York. Published in installments during 1840 and 1841, this was the novel that truly cemented Dickens’ popularity. People could not get enough of the story and the death scene had been dragged out and they were desperate to know what happened. Of course, years later this would provoke Oscar Wilde’s famous statement: “One would have to have a heart of stone to read the death of little Nell without dissolving into tears…of laughter.” There was certainly more baggage attached to this book than any of the other Dickens’ novels which I hadn’t read when I started this project (I don’t know what this might say about either Dickens or myself that all of the novels I had read before I began the project, and thus, was re-reading ended up higher than all the novels that I hadn’t read). When I finally had made it through the novel to the famous death scene, I was surprised. First, it didn’t seem to last nearly as long as I had heard. Second, I felt neither the overwhelming loss that washed over many of the contemporary readers, nor the revulsion for the sentimentality of the scene that Wilde expressed. In fact, given Dickens’ penchant for sentimentality, I was rather surprised that the scene was as understated as it was.
The fascinating thing about the novel was that I just wasn’t that interested in the fate of Nell or her grandfather. In fact, by the time I got to Nell’s death scene I had lost quite a bit of interest in the novel as a whole. Everything about the power of the novel hinges on the character of Daniel Quilp, the evil hunchbacked dwarf who might just be Dickens’ best villian (yes, even better than Madame DeFarge). Every time he appears on the scene, he is so full of malice, but is clever about it, that his menace just overwhelms everything else. It’s the classic problem from Romeo and Juliet, where Mercutio ends up as so much more an interesting character than Romeo that it undercuts the power of the romance. Quilp is such a brilliant villain, that whenever he isn’t there the novel loses its power and when he dies (of course he dies – this is Dickens after all), there just isn’t enough left of the novel to hold interest.
Barnaby Rudge (1841)
I was taken completely by surprise reading this. Between the disappointing ending of Curiosity (everything post Quilp just dragged) and the trudging through the drudge of Chuzzlewit and Dombey, this was a welcome breath of fresh air. Who would have thought that one of Dickens’ least regarded novels, one that almost never makes an appearance on film (the BBC seems to have tackled almost everything else), the “other historical novel” aside from Cities, would be so enjoyable? This is one of those books like Great Expectations where the final revelation of the Dickensian coincidence would actually be welcomed instead of a point of ridicule. It almost seems a predecessor to Cities, as it takes place during the Gordon Riots of 1780, not long before the main action in Cities. And at its heart is Barnaby Rudge, who, unlike David Copperfield, does not force us to endure his life story. Perhaps what makes this so effective is the third person narration, as we don’t have to listen to Barnaby try to tell us his story, instead we get a look at his history against the backdrop of English history.
Hard Times (1854)
8. Hard Times
The shortest of the major novels, it is perhaps also the most contentious. Written between Bleak House and Little Dorrit against the backdrop of financial problems, both the novel’s length and its subject seem to be a reflection of Dickens’ life in the mid 1850’s. But I, like many critics, find that to be a strength. Without the length of Our Mutual Friend bogging it down, it still manages to find the same kind of tone in its look at society. It is one of the rarest to find in a filmed version, but it is available in a Norton Critical Edition, reflecting the amount of work that critics have pored into it over the years.
Little Dorrit (1857)
One of the marks of many Dickens novels is the young child pressured by the world, forced to endure and somehow even come through. There is no question that this is the story of Dickens life itself and it was never much of a secret, but as I am not a fan of biographical criticism, I try to steer away from that. I look to see if a novel can stand on its own outside of whatever outside influence of the author’s life may have had in its story. At times, Little Dorrit is dragged down by its length, trapped in Dickens’ determination to make us understand how oppressive the Victorian era was to those who did not have the financial means to achieve independence. In some ways, this is a longer continuation of Hard Times, but with more of a story and a central character who returned to the kind of characters that Dickens had made popular in Oliver Twist, The Old Curiosity Shop and David Copperfield. In 1988, it was filmed in a magnificent adapation with Alec Guinness which earned him his final Oscar nomination (quite deservedly).
David Copperfield (1850)
Is it heresy to maintain David Copperfield at such a low position among Dickens’ novels? While Our Mutual Friend and Bleak House are considered major novels, there are many who consider this the epitome of Dickens work, the orphaned urchin who must make his way through society and learn to grow and thrive while pitted against one of the best remembered villains in all of literature: Uriah Heep. Of course, there are characters aplenty in the novel, the most memorable being Micawber, who is remembered by many as much for the portrayal by W.C. Fields in the 1935 film version as he is from the novel itself. There is no question that Dickens himself left a special place in his heart for this novel and for the character of David in particular, though this is as likely because of the autobiographical nature of the story as it is the writing. After all, Dickens thought that Martin Chuzzelwit was the best of his novels. And there are many great aspects of this novel. So why rank it sixth? It is David himself, whom I never particularly warm to as a narrator. Unlike Pip, who Dickens does a better job with of not seeming so irritating, there is just something about the way that David tells the story that puts me off. I am always reminded of Holden Caulfield explaining that his novel won’t have “all that David Copperfield kind of crap.”
5. Oliver Twist
Oliver Twist (1839)
The most suited to film versions, partially because of its length, partially due to the darkness of the story itself, Oliver Twist has continued to endure. There is the David Lean version with Alec Guinness brilliant Fagin, Robert Newton’s brutal Sykes and Kay Walsh’s tragic Nancy. There is the silent version with a masterful Lon Chaney as Fagin. There is the 1968 Best Picture winner, Oliver!, with great performances and songs that annoy. There is the 2005 version with a tragic take by Ben Kingsley. There is the truly awful 1933 version that is a reminder of how annoying Oliver himself can be.
But what about the novel itself? Well, there are two problems with the novel. The first is Oliver himself, who can be quite clearly annoying, which is not exactly what you want from your title character. But Oliver seems to be less the hero than simply the focal point. There is the other problem of the coincidence that marks Oliver’s familial history, probably the most absurd plot point that Dickens ever came up with. But in the end, they don’t actually matter that much because there are the characters, and they are brilliant from the beginning and stay that way until the end. There isn’t just Fagin, a nasty depiction of a Jewish stereotype, yet a fascinating character nonetheless. There is the Beedle, there is the deadly Bill Sykes and his faithful dog. There is the tragic Nancy, who finally makes a decision to justify her life only to have it cost her that very life. And there is, of course, the Artful Dodger. While Dickens’ books are full of colorful characters, ones whose legacy will last for centuries, Oliver Twist is interesting in that it is all the morally devious characters that are the most worth reading about. Nobility holds no sway in this novel.
A Christmas Carol (1843)
How can a tale so short, so full of blatant sentimentality, with such a sappy character as Tiny Tim, with such a cheesy ending still stand the test of time? Because there is no question but that it does stand the test of time. It is probably the most read novel that Dickens ever wrote and every holiday season it takes its place on the radio and television and in bookstores and people devour it over and over again. Is the moral redemption of Scrooge that bring people back? Is it the nobility of the holiday season, a reach for something in which the holiday season prevails over those who would strive against it? What is it about Scrooge that makes actors, especially fine British actors like Alistair Sim, Albert Finney, Michael Caine and Patrick Stewart keep coming to him? Sure, you get to play the mean-hearted, despicable miser, but you will also have to play the happy-go-lucky Scrooge at the end. Perhaps the secret is the same secret that lies in Citizen Kane, that something in your past, when you are innocent and carefree, is really what makes you who you are; that reaching back to find what you have lost can conquer what you have become and in the end that is what you hold on to. Because it is a great book, with magnificent descriptions, a brilliant look at what makes a man into who he is and what can make him reach for redemption. If you want a film version, the best is the 1951 version with Alistair Sim.
Nicholas Nickleby (1839)
Back in 2002 I saw the film version of this before I read the novel. I was delightfully surprised at how enjoyable it was, how it seemed to have the comic vision that so many people talk about Pickwick having, how it had the kind of delightful villains that makes Oliver Twist so memorable, yet wasn’t loaded down with a central character that aggravates the nerves like Oliver or David Copperfield. It is a complete novel, the best of Dickens’ longer novels, certainly the best of the early novels and the film version did it justice, with memorable supporting performances from Christopher Plummer, Jim Broadbent and Nathan Lane. It is a reminder that the kind of character acting that is so amazing to watch in, it seems, every British actor, is perfectly suited for Dickens novels because the characters are so varied and enjoyable. The only two Dickens novels that seem like they would really work with a Hollywood studio are A Christmas Carol and A Tale of Two Cities, because they are the only two in which everything seems to revolve around a strong, interesting central character. For the rest, it is up to the Brits to show us what characters can really be like when fully brought to life.
A Tale of Two Cities (1859)
For a long time I not only ranked this as the best of the Dickens novels, but as one of the few 19th century novels not written in Russian that I really and truly loved (The Red and the Black and The Three Musketeers were my other two examples). As I have re-read it again twice in the last couple of years, it has lost none of its power. It is one of the few novels in history to have a truly amazing and memorable first and last line (Lolita, The Catcher in the Rye and The Princess Bride are the other three that really make that list), it has one of the great heroes in literature, the brilliant Sydney Carton, who almost qualifies as the first anti-hero as he drunkenly makes his way through the novel, only to come through in the end. It has all the horrors of the French Revolution, but doesn’t lose sight of the human story at the center of the novel. It’s amazing that only one great film version has been made (the 1935 version with Ronald Colman) because this is crying out to be filmed again and again. It has everything a great film needs: a dark story, great supporting characters, a beautiful heroine, a tragic hero who sacrifices himself, blood, revolution, romance.
Great Expectations (1861)
This comes back again to Carol Mooney. As I said, for a long time I held Tale as the best of Dickens’ work. My estimation of the greatness of Tale hasn’t changed. What has changed is my estimation of how great a novel Great Expectations is. I first read it in 9th grade with Carol as my English teacher and for a long time, I was suffering. The opening was nice and snappy, but then it got bogged down for a long time, until the final 100 pages, which I remember just zipping through. But that was it. I read it for class and then put it away. For almost 20 years.
But then I came back to it. In fact, it was reading again late last year just before watching the David Lean film again to finish off my Director Project after 5 years that inspired me to finally go back and read all of Dickens. Because there is so much to this novel, and Lean’s film is the perfect guide to where to find it. There is the brilliant opening of the book, out in the graveyard, made so darkly real in the film version. But then there is Miss Havisham, made more alive by her appearances in the Thursday Next books, and brought to life so disturbingly dark in the film. But then we move onto London. We have Frances L. Sullivan, who would later be so perfect as the Beedle in Lean’s Oliver Twist, and he is so brilliant, so witty, so caustic, as Mr. Jaggers that he carries the film so perfectly here. Yes, John Mills was too old to play Pip, but he feels right in spite of his age and the introduction of Alec Guinness into the world of film as Herbert Pocket can never be topped. Then, of course, we move on through the darker part of the film and move towards the brutal conclusion. We see how much Pip has turned away from those who love him, we see the violence, we get the brilliant underlying story of what truly makes him a man. He never does fulfill those great expectations, but we him make steps to become a better person and that is where he grows. Yes, there is sentimentality and of course there is the amazing Dickensian coincidence, but they work so well to further the story rather than just come in and rescue it. This is the fully formed genesis of the perfect Victorian novel, with the young boy brought to become a man in the dangerous world of London. I still hold A Tale of Two Cities up as a fantastic book. But if you have to read only one Dickens novel, these days I will recommend Great Expectations.
News from the San Diego Becks 
16 January, 2010 at 11:40 am
Hi, this blog post came up high in my google search for “Dickensian coincidence.” I enjoyed your post–A Tale of Two Cities is my second-favorite book, by anyone, of all time. I read Great Expectations in 8th grade and have been thinking I should read it again as an adult. After reading your post, I think I should like to re-read Dickens chronologically too. Where did you get your list?
16 January, 2010 at 11:44 am
Just noticed the years under the cover images in your post. Making my own list, now.
20 July, 2010 at 1:42 pm
It would be interesting to get a survey of Dickens readers’ rankings, to see where the
agreements and disagreemants fall. You say you’re not averse to long novels, but I do see a definite tilt in this list toward the shortest and away from the longest works – perhaps that jumps out at me because I put Bleak House & the Mutual Friend near the top of my own Dickens list.
20 July, 2010 at 2:12 pm
But I happily re-read Ulysses, Anna Karenina, Brothers Karamazov, Lord of the Rings. With Dickens, I happen to find that many of the shorter ones work better.
20 July, 2010 at 3:08 pm
I consider myself a big Dickens fan, and was surprised to see Dombey and Son at the bottom of your list. I haven’t made a ranked list yet, but I have no problem with longer novels – in fact Hard Times was one of my LEAST favorite.
7 October, 2010 at 5:29 pm
I have always been a voracious reader. As a child I read and liked _A Christmas Carol_, read and loved _A Tale of Two Cities_, read and disliked _Oliver Twist_, read _The Pickwick Papers_ (and can’t remember if I liked it or not) and read and hated _David Copperfield_. In college I read and liked _Great Expectations_. For decades there was no more Dickens reading. A few years ago I started listening to books on my iPod. Whenever Audible had a sale (once or twice a year) there seemed to be a Dickens work. And I enjoyed every one, especially when narrated by the amazingly talented Frederick Davidson. I’ve listened to and loved _Nicholas Nickleby_ (definitely my favorite listening and probably my favorite Dickens book), listened and liked _David Copperfield_ (I’ve since realized the childhood version I read was a severely condensed book), listened and liked _Oliver Twist_ (but found him pretty sappy), listened and liked _Bleak House_ (although it took me forever to actually care about any of the characters) and just finished (two days ago) listening to _Barnaby Rudge_, which I also liked. I can’t wait to reread _A Tale of Two Cities_. I’m a sucker for a romance and I still have a tremendous fondness for that book, despite not having read it in many decades. I have not read _The Old Curiosity Shop_ but did see a BBC production. I found Little Nell sappily good and her grandfather borderline monstrous. Quilp was not as enjoyable to me as other Dickens villains, Uriah Heap is a favorite and I also liked Mr. Dennis from _Barnaby Rudge_. Thanks for your reviews of the Dickens books I haven’t read. I will listen to or read them as the opportunity arises. I don’t want to set a schedule because I want to savor them, and stretch out the enjoyment. As I finished _Barnaby_, I thought how rare it is that an author still has all his works in print nearly two centuries after writing them. Even Shakespeare has a few lost works.
3 January, 2012 at 12:15 pm
There’s no accounting for taste. I agree about Great Expectations, but like Jeff in SF, I’d put Bleak House very near the top of the list, and Our Mutual Friend much higher as well. Little Dorrit is also a firm favourite. In general I’m not as fond of the earlier picaresque stories as I am of the later novels.
I’d question the inclusion of A Christmas Carol among the novels, though. If you’re going to include this, surely you should also include the other Christmas novellas, The Cricket on the Hearth and The Chimes?
3 January, 2012 at 1:59 pm
Well, and part of this was these were reactions at the time. Dickens is worth venturing into again and I could see myself reading them all again in 10 years time and coming up with different responses.
As for A Christmas Carol, it might just be my imagination, but I always envision it as a much longer story than the other two.
28 July, 2012 at 3:36 am
Fun list you’ve assembled. Drood is in a class by itself once you learn the ‘inside secret’ of Dickens’ clever shadow story embedded in the apparent one. That, and a higher estimation of Bleak House keep me from almost exactly agreeing with you (and for almost exactly the same reasons).
7 September, 2012 at 7:45 pm
No offense, Eric, but I disagree with most, if not all, of your ratings and characterizations of Dickens. And I have to agree with Josh (above) that A Christmas Carol is out of place in the list. It is part of Dickens’ larger corpus (which you have ignored entirely), but it isn’t a novel. Including it in your list indicates that, at least from a scholarly point of view, you are out of your league. That doesn’t mean you aren’t entitled to your opinions, but it may suggest that you should express them a little less dogmatically. In my opinion, so does rating a lightweight like A Tale of Two Cities so highly. In fact, with the exception of Great Expectations, you seem to favor the shorter, easier, more cinematic novels over the longer, more complex, and more mature ones.
BTW, I have read all of CD’s novels, many of them twice, and my favorites three times, as well as taught several of them at the college level. Of course, this may be because I have a PhD in Victorian Literature.
11 September, 2012 at 10:46 pm
What a delightful and interesting correspondence this was to read until the pompous and redundant expression of superiority by the sanctimonious doctor of Ph trampled across the honest and naïf thoughts of Dickens readers.
Read, discuss, enjoy and argue, but please don’t believe your academic qualifications trump the views of others. No offence, of course.
12 September, 2012 at 11:40 am
Dear saint3x, no offense taken, I assure you. I accept your assessment of “pompous” as being thoroughly accurate, but “redundant” threw me a bit. Care to elaborate? And as far as my being “sanctimonious,” I think “intellectual elitist” describes me better, since I make no pretense to being morally superior to anyone. Just sayin’.
Further, I think I owe someone an apology. I posted my comments in response to what I took to be an evaluation of Dickens by a fellow academic. I was under the impression that this blog is the product of Eric Beck (and his family), who lists an MA in English and an undergraduate major in literature prominently in his self-description. That’s why I addressed my post to “Eric” and stated that I wished to disagree with his ratings–not with any of the other responses to the post. I took the detailed assessment and ranking (never a good idea, in my opinion) of Dickens’ books in the original post as Eric’s “expert” opinion. I mentioned my own degree and area of specialization to identify myself as one qualified to comment upon, and question, his contentions. Only now do I realize that the original post was made by one “nighthawk4486,” about whom I know nothing, leaving me a bit confused about whose evaluation of Dickens I was evaluating.
BTW, nighthawk4486, whoever you are, you’re particularly wrong about Dombey and Son, and as a Dickensian, I find your thoughtless dismissal of it as a “minor” and “unmemorable” work an indication of the inadequacy of your evaluative criteria, not of the novel itself.
12 September, 2012 at 12:50 pm
Well, Erik and nighthawk4486 are one and the same person.
But, you commented that this list shows that I am out of my league, scholarship wise.
Well, this list isn’t intended as scholarship. It’s intended as a personal response to reading all the Dickens novels in the scope of a year. I didn’t try to be academic in this piece, didn’t tout it as serious writing. It was just a personal ranking.
And as a Dickensian, you can not like my list. Or as anybody. Because being a Dickensian has no relevance here. I am as qualified to write this list as anyone else who has read all the Dickens novels.
As for ranking works of art? It’s never a good idea. Which is why I do it all the time. Feel free to rank them in response if you feel mine are wrong.
And I do prefer the shorter, more cinematic ones. Not because they’re easier. But because I find that Dickens doesn’t hold up well when they are too long – the coincidences become overwhelming, the writing a slog rather than a joy. I disagree with the notion that the longer ones are the better ones. That’s part of the reason that I’m not a Victorian. That and a dislike of Thackerey and an overwhelming dislike of Eliot.
And my dismissal of Dombey as minor and unmemorable wasn’t thoughtless. It is rarely counted among his major works and I couldn’t remember a thing about it, thus making it to me, completely unmemorable.
12 September, 2012 at 1:35 pm
Well, that’s a bit confusing (i.e. posting pseudonymously in one’s own blog), but thanks for the clarification. So sorry for misreading the intention of your post. Your comments may have been personal rather than scholarly, but you made them with what I heard as an authoritative tone, more or less as the final word on the subject. Again, that may be only my reading of it.
It’s a shame you don’t like Thackeray and Eliot, Vanity Fair and Middlemarch both being works of genius (in my opinion, of course), but I can see where that would preclude your being a Victorian–or at least a happy one (oxymoron thought that may be). Odd, but interesting, that you appear to be such a fan of Faulkner, who was so “Victorian,” in an American kind of way.
For what it’s worth, if you cared to look into it, I think you would find that scholarly and critical opinion of Dombey has shifted toward a more favorable view than yours, with it often being considered a “major” work (whatever that may be).
12 September, 2012 at 1:59 pm
The nighthawk4486 is my id for WordPress. It’s not really pseudonymous. Just the way the blog works.
Some items I post as “authoritative”, like my Top 100 posts. The Dickens was just for fun.
15 August, 2013 at 7:08 pm
Only an Aemreican can find Martin Chuzzlewit disappointing. A scathing yet humourous critiique on the most hypocritcal of nations.
15 December, 2014 at 2:46 am
Congratulations on reading all of Dickens. You are indeed entitled to your opinions, and I think by being upfront about your appreciation for the more cinematic Dickens you justify your list. As a lifelong Dickensian and voracious reader, I might quibble with the order of your preferences or your relegation of Dickens to a lower order than someone like Tolstoy or Dostoyevsky.
Every great author has his weaknesses (Tolstoy pontificates; Dostoyevsky can’t keep his characters in scene much of the time) and Dickens uses tropes based on pantomime, melodrama, and other forms of storytelling that have decreased in popularity over time. But Dickens is unlike any other writer, with greater energy, creativity, and lifeforce than any other novelist in any language. When he’s good he’s very, very good, and when he’s not so good (I would put The Old Curiosity Shop in that category) he can be nigh insufferable.
I hope if you ever have time you’ll consider re-reading Our Mutual Friend and weigh Dickens’s mastery of controlling metaphor against the clunkiness of some of his subplots (Oliver Twist comes to mind), and perhaps you’ll move some of the later novels higher in your esteem.
As a coda, I must say this: A Christmas Carol is a nearly-perfect representation of what a shorter work of fiction can be, and deserves its place near the top of Dickens’s creations, if only for the fact that almost everyone experiences it as a work of emotion, and the ability to create emotion across time and space is its own miracle of art.
29 May, 2015 at 1:22 pm
I’m also reading all of Dickens (since December) and have now read 8 novels, as well as Christmas Carol. I’ve always placed Two Cities on top of my list of the greatest novels – until I read David Copperfield, a few months ago. Now (not including Lord Of The Rings, which is not “A (one) novel, is it…), I’d rank (in order) Copperfield, 2 Cities, Bleak House and Our Mutual Friend at the top of the list, maybe making room for Crime And Punishment, Brothers Karamazov, perhaps The Idiot, and Huck Finn. Dickens is without doubt the greatest of all English language novelists. It is a gift to read him, I feel it every time, usually within a paragraph.
28 July, 2015 at 1:30 pm
A fun list, although of course I disagree with it. I’d have Dombey and Son and Bleak House much higher, and I’d have Oliver Twist in the bottom two (I view that novel as his most overrated by far). Anyway, I had the same reaction to Nicholas Nickleby, which was far more delightful than I expected, given its lack of appreciation.
8 January, 2016 at 5:37 am
critic says barnaby rudge better than blaak house…is this a joke?
27 January, 2016 at 12:54 pm
Thanks so much for your comments here! I am a former English teacher (not a “Victorian scholar” :-) ), and a big Dickens fan. I had read the usual 2 or 3, but began to read one a year since I retired. Now that I’ve read 7, I was a bit unsure of what to read next.
I really enjoyed reading your comments. Since you read them close together, you could do a better comparison, I think. Reading one a year, it is hard to know which one I love most, but I can relate to the length thing, although I would call it *focus.* I, too, love a long book, but I do not like when Dickens goes off for a chapter or more to satirize some element of society, and I have to wait for him to get back to the story. I prefer it when the satire and social commentary are a natural part of his tale, rather than when it is a detour. That is when the length bugs me, although I may still love the book.
Anyway, I agree with your top two choices being among the best: they were my faves before I read Bleak House. Now I’m not sure. I did not care for Hard Times (too thin compared to the others), but am loving my current choice: Nicholas Nickleby. Again, thanks for your terrific idea to read them all in a year, and for writing it up for our benefit!
27 January, 2016 at 1:03 pm
If you prefer that things be a natural part of a tale and not a detour, you should never read Les Miserables.
27 January, 2016 at 1:29 pm
Haha! I was going to mention that! I loved that book, one of my all-time faves, but the detours to discuss the Paris sewer system and the battle of Waterloo made me crazy!