How Dickens’ Tale of the French Revolution Had Me Floored!

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

This one has been more than a week coming! When I first finished A Tale of Two Cities I was so fired up and had so much I’d wanted to say. The passion has cooled down somewhat, but I hope to recapture my thoughts and feelings on the book.

I went into this novel with mixed feelings. One – this was a story by Dickens. I’d read Oliver Twist and Great Expectations  and had been impressed by neither. I didn’t care much for Dickens’ style. This is the reason it took me five or six years to finally pick this book from off my shelf and read it. Two – this was about the French Revolution. A good point, that. I’m interested in anything to do with this era. However, three – my mom had told me how it ended and I wasn’t too keen on reading something that was sad. I overcame my feelings for point three sometime ago, was still into point two, and finally decided to give point one just one more chance.

The result? It was simply beautiful!

I don’t know that I would like to read Dickens again (except for re-reading this novel sometime), but I began to appreciate his skill. Actually, admire him for his skill.

The story…isn’t simple. It has a lot of twists and turns that to try and summarise it here would really give away a great deal. I will, thus, just stick to saying, it’s a story about a French doctor and his beautiful, sweet-natured daughter, the people who love them, and the small part they all play during the course of the French Revolution. Personally, for me, the main story itself didn’t do much, except for its end, and that for different reasons than what most who have read the book would think. (I shall elaborate on this point a little later). What I loved about this book was the unbiased portrayal of the mood and atmosphere of the French Revolution. As G K Chesterton** says:

Dickens’s French Revolution is probably more like the real French Revolution than Carlyle’s.

To better understand the above quote, I would like to point out, that Charles Dickens new nothing about the French Revolution until Carlyle had written its history. Dickens’ only source was Carlyle’s account. And yet he is supposed to have captured the spirit of the revolution way more clearly and more accurately than the historian ever did.

It is necessary thus to insist that Dickens never understood the Continent, because only then can we appreciate the really remarkable thing he did in A Tale of Two Cities. It is necessary to feel, first of all, the fact that to him London was the centre of the universe. He did not understand at all the real sense in which Paris is the capital of Europe. He had never realized that all roads led to Rome. He had never felt (as an Englishman can feel) that he was an Athenian before he was a Londoner. Yet with everything against him he did this astonishing thing. He wrote a book about two cities, one of which he understood, the other he did not understand. And his description of the city he did not know is almost better than his description of the city he did know.

What then was his source? His inspiration?



The Storming of the Bastille



…the fact of his dependence upon another of the great writers of the Victorian era. And it is in connection with this that we can best see the truth of which I have been speaking; the truth that his actual ignorance of France went with amazing intuitive perception of the truth about it. It is here that he has most clearly the plain mark of the man of genius; that he can understand what he does not understand.

If this is indeed true, that Dickens had no idea about the details of the French Revolution, until he read Carlyle’s history (and Carlyle was said to have given a detailed yet biased account of the Revolution. He apparently never believed in it.), then he is truly a genius to have woven this amazing tapestry on the same.

I love the way (and I know I am not alone or among the few in this) the novel begins:

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 belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way — in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only. (p.1)

Apart from the way he handled the background and setting for his story, I enjoyed some of Dickens’ literary devices. I was amazed at how detailed his description was – not that it would go on for pages, but that it highlighted such tiny aspects as the slant of an eyebrow, a ray of light, the position of a hand. It is all done with such finesse and the directions of a film script. I also loved his rhetorical phrasing, an example of which can be found here (apart from the above quote):

Through the dismal prison twilight, his new charge accompanied him by corridor and staircase, many doors clanging and locking behind them, until they came into a large, low, vaulted chamber, crowded with prisoners of both sexes. The women were seated at a long table, reading and writing, knitting, sewing, and embroidering; the men were for the most part standing behind their chairs, or lingering up and down the room.

In the instinctive association of prisoners with shameful crime and disgrace, the new comer recoiled from this company. But the crowning unreality of his long unread ride, was, their at once rising to receive him, with every refinement of manner known to the time, and with all the engaging graces and courtesies of life.

So strangely clouded were these refinements by the prison manners and gloom, so spectral did they become in the inappropriate squalor and misery through which they were seen, that Charles Darnay seemed to stand in a company of the dead. Ghosts all! The ghost of beauty, the ghost of stateliness, the ghost of elegance, the ghost of pride, the ghost of frivolity, the ghost of wit, the ghost of youth, the ghost of age, all waiting their dismissal from the desolate shore, all turning on him eyes that were changed by the death they had died in the coming there. (p.250)

Isn’t this passage so achingly beautiful? It is so full of pathos and so filled with gentle irony. But, I think also, with much sympathy, for not all of the aristocracy were responsible for the state of the common Frenchman, though, perhaps, unwittingly. However, it was the wickedness of a few, as represented by the old Marquis of Evremonde, that led to the Reign of Terror. By the end of the novel one sees how much out of control the revolution had gone with the blood-thirsty madness of the likes of Madame Defarge and her entourage, and the death of not only the innocent once-rich, but the poor as well. As I mentioned before, it wasn’t the main story itself that moved me, but the era in which it takes place. I shed my first tears when I read of the young peasant girl going to her death for something she didn’t do. Her words:

‘I am not afraid to die, Citizen Evremonde, but I have done nothing. I am not unwilling to die, if the Republic which is to do so much good to us poor, will profit by my death; but I do not know how that can be, Citizen Evremonde. Such a poor weak little creature!’ (p.349)

I shed my second and last set of tears for this:

‘It is a far, far better thing that I do, that I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known.’ (p.370)

These tears, though, were of a sort of relief and happiness for the man who found no joy (except one) in his earthly life, but was able to redeem himself so wonderfully at the end.

I had been speaking of Dickens’ writing style before I went down another road: he used a great deal of personification. And he picks out interesting quirks in each of his characters that we begin to know them by. These are little things, but they made the reading a pleasure. However, two things about his writing that I truly dislike were ever present here as well. One – his tendency to have a rather intrusive narrator’s voice. I dislike the fact that it distances you from the story, makes you feel more like an outsider looking in through a window of a house where interesting things are happening that you so much want to be a part of. This ‘intruding narrator’ seems to take a back seat in the third part of the book, though, which was probably why the last section of the novel is the most interesting (apart from its being involved solely with the revolution). Two – it has always annoyed me, the way everything falls together way too perfectly in terms of the plot line, in Dickens’ novels. Someone once used the word saccarine to describe Dickens’ works and I’ll have to agree. It’s like reading a Daniel Steele novel, I presume.

Yet, there are some memorable characters from this novel, of which I would like to mention three – The Marquis Evremond, Madame Defarge and Sydney Carton. I’ll be writing up a separate post for this mini-characterisation. At this point, I would like to mention how there is no one main character in this book. The whole novel is carried by the intricate plot.

I shall stop here. I had no idea, when I began this, that it was going to turn out so long!

If you have read A Tale of Two Cities I would love to hear if you agree with what I have said or not. What was your opinion of the novel? How has it affected your opinion about Dickens? If you haven’t read this novel, would you give it a try? I would highly recommend it!

If you would like a crash course in the French Revolution before you get started on the book, or even after you have finished it, here’s a good, succinct article for you to peruse.

A Tale of Two Cities published by Dent Dutton, printed 1979
** Appreciations and Criticisms of the Works of Charles Dickens by G K Chesterton

Literary Blog Hop: Literary Pieces I Dislike(d)!

The Literary Blog Hop is hosted at The Blue Bookcase once every two weeks.

This week’s question is:

Discuss a work of literary merit that you hated when you were made to read it in school or university. Why did you dislike it?

Oh, there are many works that I simply hated when I was doing my bachelors in English. Looking back, most of them were works by modern writers. I couldn’t stomach much of the ‘existentialism’ philosophy that permeated works of the early 20th century. Then there were others where either the story or the style or both quite put me off. I suspect, if I were to read some of them today, I might appreciate them better. Others I know I just couldn’t bring myself to like them.

The one piece I remember with utter distaste is Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett. It was an existentialist play that was an example of what was called the absurdist theatre at the time. It’s a play that simply does not move, and when it does is repetitive, reflecting in its pointless dialogue and bare movement the idea of existentialism. All I could think of, when reading this play was “this poor guy (Beckett) must have been one incredibly unhappy man if this was all life was to him.” I hated it. I didn’t understand its foundation. I didn’t want to.

Then there were novels like The Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad and Farewell to Arms by Hemingway, that were a drag. I must admit, though, that having finished the first, I was glad I had read it for it was powerful in its way. I wouldn’t read it again. On the other hand, I didn’t care for the second at all! However, books like Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye and Graham Greene’s The Power and the Glory I would actually like to try again some day. The reason beging for the first one; I know I was very put out by the foul language the protaganist uses, and this annoyance marred my understanding of the piece. I am much less rigid now, and know I would like or dislike this novel based on its own merits (demerits?). The Power and the Glory was a novel I couldn’t appreciate much at the time because…well, I think I wasn’t ready for it. It was only after I read Greene’s Heart of the Matter that I truly understood the writer’s themes, and knew that if I were to read the other novel again I would love it!

Then there were writers like James Joyce and Virginia Woolf whom I didn’t even give a chance because a slight taste of surrealism was enough to have me running and screaming! I intend trying them out soon. I’ve already got Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway in line for a read. And I intend giving Dubliners a try sometime.

What’s in a Tiger?

It all began with a book of classic humourous short stories I’d picked up for a cousin a month back, and finally decided to keep it for myself (I know that’s awful, but she didn’t know, and I wasn’t too sure she’d appreciate it since she doesn’t like anything antiquated, and she’d have thought so of this gift.:( ). Then, when browsing through The Reading Life, I noticed Mel u was going on a short story spree and had discussed the similarities between O’Henry and Saki’s short stories. As there was a story by each of them in this little anthology of mine (I studied both of them a while ago), I mentioned them to Mel and we decided to do a reading of these stories together. In case any one’s interested Mel is doing a series of comparative posts between the two writers.

This isn’t the book I have but it has the picture I wanted!

So, I read Mrs Packletide’s Tiger by Saki two days ago, but have only just found the time to do a write up. It’s a rather straightforward story of a socialite, Mrs Packletide, who wants to out-do her rival, Loona Bimberton, who has just made the headlines with her trip into the skies with an Algerian aviator. Mrs Packletide’s in India and hits upon the notion of killing a tiger, thereby beating her rival’s news. The story of how she ‘spots’ a tiger, ‘ambushes’ it and ‘kills’ it is simply hilarious. Along with her goes her paid companion, Louisa Mebbin, who later proves to be the bain of Mrs Packletide. One of his most recurring characters, Clovis, makes a brief appearance on the scene, to offer his solicitous skepticism on her fame as the woman who caught the tiger.  

I first read this story when I was in my eleventh grade. I’m not sure I caught the nuances of the writer’s skills very well then. I knew at the time that it was funny. But I only truly appreciated it when I read it again two nights ago. Saki comments on the social mindset of his day are subtle and full of satire. Barely a line goes by where he isn’t poking fun at social norms through his characters’ eccentric natures. Here’s a little sample of what I mean:

Louisa Mebbin adopted a protective elder-sister attitude towards money in general, irrespective of nationality or denomination. Her energetic intervention had saved many a rouble from dissipating itself in tips in some Moscow hotel, and francs and centimes clung to her instinctively under circumstances which would have driven them headlong from less sympathetic hands.

If you would like to know a little about Saki, Mel has a post about him here. If you would like to read this story it can be found here. 

Character Connection: Amir Redeemed

Character Connection is a weekly event run by The Introverted Reader.

It was while reading The Kite Runner by Khaled Housseini that I knew I’d be writing a separate post for Amir, the narrator and protagonist of the novel. I would like to say at the very start that I wanted to like Amir, to empathise with him, and feel sorry for him. But while this was probable in the first two or three chapters, I only grew to dislike him as the story moved on. He wasn’t particularly an admirable character in any way (not that he was supposed to be), but I saw no redeeming quality in him. Even the guilt that he carries with him after betraying his best friend does not become in the least bit constructive.

At this point, I realise that if anyone is reading this with no clue what the novel is about, leave alone the character, then this is all Greek and Latin. My thoughts on the book itself were written a day ago, but for a brief synopsis – Amir and Hassan are childhood friends. They belong to different backgrounds but they grow up in the same grounds and have a fairly similar upbringing. Hassan is the younger one by a year, and is absolutely and completely devoted to Amir. Amir sees him as a mere playmate and is loath to acknowledge him as a friend when others are around. There comes a turning point in their lives when Hassan seeks to help Amir win his father’s approval, but is in the process beaten up and raped. Amir witnesses this but is too much of a coward to help Hassan. Later, the guilt and cowardliness driving him insane, Amir sees to it that Hassan and his father leave the house. Nearly twenty years later Amir is called back to his homeland to make right all the wrong he done to his loyal friend.

All of Amir’s actions, in his initial years, seem to be driven by the need to please his father. With this, I could sympathise, especially as he thought his father blamed him for his mother’s death (she had died at childbirth). Rahim Khan, Amir’s father’s best friend, is the one who sees Amir’s longing and tries to help him. But there is another who understands Amir’s need – Hassan – and he is ever willing to try and help him.

Hassan and I fed from the same breasts. We took our first steps on the same lawn in the same yard. And, under the same roof, we spoke our first words.

Mine was Baba.

His was Amir. My name.

Looking back on it now, I think the foundation for what happened in the winter of 1975 – and all that followed – was already laid in those first words.

This quote highlights the basic outline of all that happens in the novel. Amir, an object of pity with regard to his situation, becomes an object of contempt – this last, especially during his adult hood, when he seeks to bury his past and the baggage that comes with it, in a new life in America. I could, at no point, see him as a man of honour. Even when he woos his girl, I felt a sense of remoteness, detachment. I wasn’t rooting for him. But here and there an incident would take place when I would think, there is some  goodness in him – goodness or it is mere hypocrisy. At the end, I could only bring myself to like Amir when, at the very last page, we see him working so hard, earnestly, and lovingly for his redemption – no hypocrisy there!

The Kite Runner Strikes a Chord

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

My husband had seen the film adaptation of The Kite Runner (by Khaled Hosseini) and told me that it was incredibly boring. Luckily for me I was in the middle of the book when he said so, or the chances of my having read this book would have been a bare minimum. As it was, I enjoyed the book. I could see, though, how the movie could have been slow-moving and boring – there is not much action that converts into a solid plot. The plot is mostly in the heart and mind of the narrator. It lies in his memories that are riddled with longing, jealousy and guilt.

Longing - Amir is the only son of an extremely well-to-do Afghani. In his own words:

My father was a force of nature, a towering Pashtun specimen with a thick beard, a wayward crop of curly brown hair as unruly as the man himself, hands that looked capable of uprooting a willow tree, and a black glare that would “drop the devil to his knees begging for mercy,”…at parties…attention shifted to him like sunflowers turning to the sun. (p. 11)

With a father such as this Amir longs to have him pat him on the head with pride and see the same in his eyes. But he is nothing like his father being small, shy of violence of any kind, and very much into books. Baba, as Amir calls his father, cannot understand how his son could be the way he is. Amir has inherited his mother’s love for reading and writing, but his Baba does not think it manly. So we see Amir trying desperately to please his father in any way he can and thereby win his love and pride in him.

Jealousy – Baba (I do not recall that his father’s name is mentioned anywhere in the book) seems to have a special place in his heart for his servant, Ali’s son, Hassan. He never forgets his birthday, gets him extravagant gifts, and treats him on par or perhaps better than Amir. In fact, Amir mentions an incident when his Baba patted Hassan on the back for something he done well. Amir himself had never received such a pat. Besides this, Hassan’s own father, Ali, loved him so much, and Amir envied him that love.

Guilt – Add together longing and jealousy, and there is bound to be a tragedy. Hassan, a pure-hearted boy, completely devoted to his best friend Amir, was to suffer for his friend – not just once, but twice…maybe thrice – and Amir would quickly become, one after the other, the silent observer and the instigator of this suffering. He would carry this guilt with him until he is, at last, able to redeem himself, at the end of his tale.

One can easily see how this plot could not have transformed itself very well or appealingly onto the screen. But then again, I have read very good reviews on the movie so I must say no more about the film itself.

The basic outline of the story is this: two Afghani boys grow up together in the same house. They are unlike each other in most ways – they belong to two different races; they belong to two different stations in life (one rich, the other a servant boy); though of the same faith one is a Sunni Muslim and the other a Shi’a; the one uses his literacy to tease the other, while the other is as loyal to him as a pup to its master; the one is a coward, the other is brave.

This story, then becomes, a tale of courage, suffering, cowardice, and at the end, redemption. It is told with such simplicity and yet so powerfully. It works so well as a memory, highlighting only those incidents and tiny details that lend support to the main plot of the re-telling. I could easily see myself sitting beside the narrator as he told me this entire story.

There were little turns of phrases that made me relish the reading experience as well. I didn’t mark any of them, but there is this one that I knew where to find:

In Afghanistan, yelda is the first night of the month of Jadi, the first night of winter, and the longest night of the year. …After I met Soraya Taheri, every night of the week became a yelda for me. (p. 125)

It was also interesting to see what Afghanistan was like before it was invaded by the Russians and then taken over by the Taliban. The picture described when Amir returns to his home country in 2001 is heartbreakingly reminiscent of what we see on TV; but we know through the telling, that Afghanistan looked nothing like what it is today, some forty years ago!

What fascinated me the most, disgusted me and kept me reading, was the character of Amir himself. I have much to say, and for that Amir gets another post.

In the meantime, have you read The Kite Runner? What do you think about it? How did it make you feel? Would you agree with the astounding reviews it received? And if you have never read The Kite Runner, would you give it a try?

Reading and Blogging Resolutions

Tuesday Top Ten is weekly meme hosted at the Broke and Bookish.

This is a rather interesting idea for a list – making resolutions. I only hope I stick to the ones I mention here. I’m quite good at NOT following resolutions!

1. Finish what I have on my shelves - I have about 40-45 unread books (including those I have borrowed from my mom and friend).
2. Not to buy a single book until I’m done with my TBR pile at home - I really hate seeing this pile getting bigger and bigger. It breaks my heart in a way and makes me feel I’m not doing my books (and the money I spent on them!) any justice. There was a time when not a single book that was gifted to me or that I bought went unread. I can’t say that now. I want to say that again by the end of this year!
3. Read short stories - I have four anthologies of short stories at home. I hope to finish them. And if I do, then I might borrow a few more from my mom.
4. Faithfully record my reading journey – In the last few months there have been a couple of great books I read that I didn’t bother to post anything about in my blog. One of them being Dracula. I feel bad that I didn’t, since there was so much I’d wanted to say about it. I hope not to leave a single book out of my blog this year – even if it gets a two line mention in a post of its own it should get done.
5. Keep it true to myself - Many times I find myself thinking “will others like it?” “Will they scoff?” Is it too silly?” “Is this the sort of post people are looking for?” etc., etc.. This year, this blog is going to be all about how I feel and respond to a novel. And there is very likely to be spoilers. But I want my blog to be a discussion blog and not merely a review blog. I love discussions and debates and hope to have many here.^_^
6. Visiting Blogs - Apart from the blog hops I do from the three memes I’m taking part in, I very rarely go visiting blogs. I intend visiting all the blogs on my roll every Friday and/or Saturday. 
7. Regular meme posts – Last year, I found myself taking part in a meme for just a post or two before quitting. So far, this year, I haven’t done so, and I hope it stays that way. I find that these memes are really a great way to meet people!
8. Finish what I start – Be it memes, challenges, reviews, discussions I would really like to finish anything and everything I begin. I have this dreadful habit of stopping mid-way and dropping out. Many times I’ve joined something or I’ve started a meme or challenge, and then feeling these things are a failure any way, I just stop. I hope not to do so with anything this year!
9. Cut down on challenges NOW so that I can keep my other resolutions! - Ah! The irony…don’t you just love it? Having given the afore mentioned point of not dropping out, I see that I might have to drop out of two or three challenges now if I want to finish my TBR pile. I’ve a lot of apologising to do. :-/
10. Post at least four to five times a week - Yes. I’d really like to keep my blog very active. Last year it was nearly always asleep!

Character Connection: Puzzling over Mr Lorry

Character Connection is hosted by The Introverted Reader every Thursday. Click on image to go to host page.

I might only have just begun reading A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, and so have come across only four characters so far. However, I find myself quite intrigued by the character of Jarvis Lorry. By profession and initial personal characteristics, we see that he is an English banker, quite dedicated to business and doing it well. Yet, right from the moment he mentions the words “recalled to life” he becomes a character of intrigue. The messenger who brings him the message that provokes these strange words, ponders over them in bewilderment and then with misgiving. And one tends to feel the way he does. What does a stalwart banker have to do with strange words in the misty darkness of the night?

Mr Lorry is on his way to meet his next client. But for some reason or the other, this

Mr Lorry carries a message.

clientappeals to a side of him that isn’t all business. We see that Mr Lorry is nervous about emotions. He likes to work mechanically on a mission because he feels extremely uncomfortable with his emotions – emotions of any kind be it kindness, pity and the like. His key phrase is – a matter of business. He has some important, life-changing news for his client. One that is bound to be very emotional for her. And reminding himself constantly that it is all a matter of business he relays his news with not much empathy for the feelings of his young client. However, we can see that he is disturbed by her distress, and he does not want her to suffer. Yet, since all he knows and is comfortable with is business, he is unable to do much for her.

Our  interest in him grows, though when we realise that his dealings with this young woman have been of a personal nature in the distant past. This Englishman banker has some sort of tie-in with this young lady’s French father who has been presumed dead. After years there is news of the latter and this unlikely pair is to make a trip from Dover across the English channel to see if all heard is true.

I am eager to know what role Mr Lorry really plays in this story.