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7 February is the birthday of my pal and pen-mate Charles Dickens. It is also the day of The Super Bowl. I have no interested in latter but I adore the former. I wasn’t aware there was to be a game this year until I foolishly went to Uncle Albertsons only to discover many people in football attire, stocking up on the worse foodstuffs. While the nation is gorging themselves on chicken wings I plan to spend they day reading some Dickens.  I haven’t figured out which I shall read. I may read excepts of Bleak House or The Old Curiosity Shop – it doesn’t matter. Boz is one of those authors whose work I can read over and over and I always get new things out of it. Martin Chuzzlewit was read only once and I recall I did not care for it. Maybe I might like it more a second time around.  Barnaby Rudge was downright frightening with it ugly mob scenes written with spot-on accuracy.  That may be worthwhile to read after the matter of a month ago. 

For thems interested in reading some Dickens but aren’t certain where to start I suggest Bleak House. Here’s a scene from a BBC production of the book where the young heroine learns of her mother.  Who says Dickens lack character depth?

 

 

 

 

 

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