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A review by dunnadam
Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
3.0
I liked this book and am glad I read it, but didn’t love it.
I didn’t find this book as relatable as the other Dickens I read, Our Mutual Friend, and the plot and characters didn’t really grab me. I suppose in the 1850’s the idea of an urchin being plucked out of obscurity for the high life was appealing. It’s less so now. When Pip was living it up he just seemed to drink and smoke all day, whoopee.
Dickens humour shines through as always. Early on Pip’s sister says:
"If you bring the boy back with his head blown to bits by a musket, don't look to me to put it together again."
I really liked her, she added some great comic relief. So of course he got rid of her.
Once Pip leaves for London, I have little idea what happened for the next 100 pages. I would read them and then have no idea what was said when I finished. The little I did retain was the part shown in the TV adaptation I watched so I guess it can’t have been too important. I was curious as to how old Biddy was and they left her out of the TV all together, so I may never know.
Dicken’s humour picks up again in spots, such as when Pip is deciding on lending money to a friend, the man he’s talking to says:
"Choose your bridge, Mr. Pip," returned Wemmick, "and take a walk upon your bridge, and pitch your money into the Thames over the centre arch of your bridge, and you know the end of it. Serve a friend with it, and you may know the end of it too,—but it's a less pleasant and profitable end."
An example though, of a passage I read and have no idea what was said:
"They must ha' thought better on't for some reason or another," said the Jack, "and gone down."
"A four-oared galley, did you say?" said I.
"A four," said the Jack, "and two sitters."
"Did they come ashore here?"
"They put in with a stone two-gallon jar for some beer. I'd ha' been glad to pison the beer myself," said the Jack, "or put some rattling physic in it."
"Why?"
"I know why," said the Jack. He spoke in a slushy voice, as if much mud had washed into his throat.
"He thinks," said the landlord, a weakly meditative man with a pale eye, who seemed to rely greatly on his Jack,—"he thinks they was, what they wasn't."
"I knows what I thinks," observed the Jack.
"You thinks Custum 'Us, Jack?" said the landlord.
"I do," said the Jack.
"Then you're wrong, Jack."
"AM I!"
In the infinite meaning of his reply and his boundless confidence in his views, the Jack took one of his bloated shoes off, looked into it, knocked a few stones out of it on the kitchen floor, and put it on again. He did this with the air of a Jack who was so right that he could afford to do anything.
Who knows what any of that means.
I find when a lot is happening, Dickens really soars. Not much happens in this book.
I didn’t find this book as relatable as the other Dickens I read, Our Mutual Friend, and the plot and characters didn’t really grab me. I suppose in the 1850’s the idea of an urchin being plucked out of obscurity for the high life was appealing. It’s less so now. When Pip was living it up he just seemed to drink and smoke all day, whoopee.
Dickens humour shines through as always. Early on Pip’s sister says:
"If you bring the boy back with his head blown to bits by a musket, don't look to me to put it together again."
I really liked her, she added some great comic relief. So of course he got rid of her.
Once Pip leaves for London, I have little idea what happened for the next 100 pages. I would read them and then have no idea what was said when I finished. The little I did retain was the part shown in the TV adaptation I watched so I guess it can’t have been too important. I was curious as to how old Biddy was and they left her out of the TV all together, so I may never know.
Dicken’s humour picks up again in spots, such as when Pip is deciding on lending money to a friend, the man he’s talking to says:
"Choose your bridge, Mr. Pip," returned Wemmick, "and take a walk upon your bridge, and pitch your money into the Thames over the centre arch of your bridge, and you know the end of it. Serve a friend with it, and you may know the end of it too,—but it's a less pleasant and profitable end."
An example though, of a passage I read and have no idea what was said:
"They must ha' thought better on't for some reason or another," said the Jack, "and gone down."
"A four-oared galley, did you say?" said I.
"A four," said the Jack, "and two sitters."
"Did they come ashore here?"
"They put in with a stone two-gallon jar for some beer. I'd ha' been glad to pison the beer myself," said the Jack, "or put some rattling physic in it."
"Why?"
"I know why," said the Jack. He spoke in a slushy voice, as if much mud had washed into his throat.
"He thinks," said the landlord, a weakly meditative man with a pale eye, who seemed to rely greatly on his Jack,—"he thinks they was, what they wasn't."
"I knows what I thinks," observed the Jack.
"You thinks Custum 'Us, Jack?" said the landlord.
"I do," said the Jack.
"Then you're wrong, Jack."
"AM I!"
In the infinite meaning of his reply and his boundless confidence in his views, the Jack took one of his bloated shoes off, looked into it, knocked a few stones out of it on the kitchen floor, and put it on again. He did this with the air of a Jack who was so right that he could afford to do anything.
Who knows what any of that means.
I find when a lot is happening, Dickens really soars. Not much happens in this book.