great expectations

Yesterday I finished trudging through Great Expectations By Charles Dickens.

Perhaps "trudge" is too unkind a word. It was a challenging read, and I haven't read anything very challenging for a good while now, so it was an adjustment for me. It's not a mindless book--you can't just la-de-da your way through it, you have to actively think and work to keep up with the plot, which is mad hard to summarize, but involves a boy named Pip and his many adventures through the social structure of early nineteenth century England.

The one thing I really loved about this novel was Dickens' writing style. There's something Shakespearean and poetic about the way he creates moods and characters and scenes with handful of old-fashioned, classy words. You get lost in his descriptions, attached to his characters.

You also get annoyed because the story drags on for approximately fourteen years, but in the long run, it's worth the read. It is a classic, after all, and for a good reason. Books don't survive for one hundred and fifty years if they're terrible.

"I'll tell you...what real love is. It is blind devotion, unquestioning self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief against yourself and against the whole world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the smiter--as I did!"

"As to forming any plan for the future, I could as soon have formed an elephant."

"You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read...you have been in every prospect I have ever seen...You have been the embodiment of every graceful fantasy that my mind has ever become acquainted with."

Beautiful, huh?