I’ve never read A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens until recently.
I read somewhere that the book renewed England’s interest in Christmas and individual charitable giving.
Englanders had become somewhat calloused to the season and the plight of their fellow man. Mr. Dickens had a similar effect on his fellow countrymen with the book Oliver Twist.
While I read the book, I couldn’t believe how he defined every detail. Each scene played out in my mind vividly. I’ll say it was a far cry from Silver Dollar City’s play, A Dickens Christmas Carol, although I enjoy attending the play every Christmas. There’s only so much you can fit in an hour time slot. The main points are made, and it’s a very well-done production.
But nothing compares to the book. I believe the reason this book was, and is, so popular is because it’s the only book able to keep everyone’s interest beyond the first paragraph.
I know we’re speaking of the late great Charles Dickens, but I’m barely able to stay awake past “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of incredulity,” and it is at this point where people who have the slightest hope to retain their sanity close the book and whisper, “Okay. I think I’ll put this in my next ten garage sales, hoping some unsuspecting dwimble gets a hankering to be bored stiff.”
Either that or they fall asleep immediately.
So, with the description of the ghost of Jacob Marley freely roaming around in my brain, I finished my 45th book this year. Can I get to 50?
Do children’s books count?
Also, I was reprimanded for not enjoying A Tale of Two Cities. What are your thoughts on the book? Should classics automatically be appreciated and enjoyed even if they’re not our cup of tea?
to anyone with the ability to decipher the many various combinations of letters of the alphabet,
– Caleb
caneymountainblog.com 