I’m having to read Tale of Two Cities for one of my classes this week.
I’ve always found Dickens a hard nut to crack, though I have always admired his literary genius. I have tried several times, in the past, to read Tale of Two Cities, and, I might add, never gotten father than the first couple chapters. Similarly, I have attempted reading Little Dorrit and never read farther than the third chapter, probably intimidated slightly by the four inch thickness of the book.
But for some unknown reason this week, I have been able to get past my hidden fear of Dickens. And I have been pleasantly surprised in my reading to find that I’m enjoying myself. Sure, at the two-thirds mark, I still don’t know everything that’s going on, but that’s just Dickens for you. But I have really started to appreciate and enjoy Dickens this past week. And I have picked up Little Dorrit again. Maybe this time I’ll finish it.
I love discovering new authors. And though Dickens is far from being a stranger to me, I’m just now discovering my love and appreciation for his work.