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When Charles Dickens died in 1870, The Times of London successfully campaigned for his burial in Westminster Abbey, the final resting place of England's kings and heroes. Thousands flocked to mourn the best recognized and loved man of nineteenth-century England. His books had made them laugh, shown them the squalor and greed of English life, and also the power of personal virtue and the strength of ordinary people. In his last years Dickens drew adoring crowds, had met presidents and princes, and had amassed a fortune. Yet like his heroes, Dickens trod a hard path to greatness. His young life was overturned when his profligate father was sent to debtors' prison and Dickens was forced into harsh factory work--but this led to his remarkable eye for all that was absurd, tragic, and redemptive in London life. This biography gives full measure to Dickens's stature--his virtues both as a writer and as a human being--while observing his failings in both respects with an unblinking eye.--From publisher description.… (mehr)
Für mich eindeutig die beste Dickens-Biographie, Tomalin liebt Dickens, lässt sich aber dadurch nie dazu verleiten, die Perspektive zu verlieren. Es ergibt sich das faszinierende Bild eines Mannes, der Großes leistet, dabei aber oft seine Familie und Umwelt auf der Strecke lässt. ( )
While it neither offers much in the way of new insights nor replaces classic studies of Dickens, Tomalin's entertaining book deserves to be the go-to popular biography for readers new to Boz and his works.
hinzugefügt von Christa_Josh | bearbeitenLibrary Journal, Morris A. Hounion(Oct 15, 2011)
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My sister and I first realised Mr Dickens himself... as a sort of brilliance in the room, mysteriously dominant and formless. I remember how everybody lighted up when he entered.
- Annie Thackery writing in 1913
I suppose that for at least five-and-twenty years of his life, there was not an English-speaking household in the world... where his name was not as familiar as that of any personal acquaintance, and where an allusion to characters of his creating could fail to be understood.
- George Gissing in 1898
The life of almost any man possessing great gifts, would be a sad book to himself.
- Charles Dickens in 1869
It will not do to draw round any part of such a man too hard a line.
-John Forster, friend of Dickens, in his biography
Widmung
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I dedicate this book to the memory of two remarkable women : my mother, the composer Muriel Emily Herbert, 1897-1984, who shared with me her enjoyment of Dickens when I was a child ; and my French grandmother, a schoolteacher, Franceline Jennaton Delavenay, 1873-1906, who in about 1888, when she was at boarding school in Grenoble, read David Copperfield in its entirety in English, and loved Dickens ever afterwards.
Erste Worte
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Prologue
14 January 1840, London. An inquest is being held at Marylebone Workhouse, a muddled complex of buildings spread over a large area between the Marylebone Road and Paddington Street.
Charles Dickens was born on Friday, 7 February 1812, just outside the old town of Portsmouth in the new suburb of Landport, built in the 1790s.
Zitate
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“He [Dickens] told me that all the good simple people in his novels, Little Nell, even the holy simpletons like Barnaby Rudge, are what he wanted to have been, and his villains were what he was (or rather, what he found in himself), his cruelty, his attacks of causeless enmity towards those who were helpless and looked to him for comfort, his shrinking from those whom he ought to love, being used up in what he wrote. There were two people in him, he told me: one who feels as he ought to feel and one who feels the opposite. From the one who feels the opposite I make my evil characters, from the one who feels as a man ought to feel I try to live my life. Only two people? I asked.”
The quiet concentration found necessary by other writers was not a feature of Dickens's working life.
Letzte Worte
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Then he would dry his head with a towel, and go on writing.
When Charles Dickens died in 1870, The Times of London successfully campaigned for his burial in Westminster Abbey, the final resting place of England's kings and heroes. Thousands flocked to mourn the best recognized and loved man of nineteenth-century England. His books had made them laugh, shown them the squalor and greed of English life, and also the power of personal virtue and the strength of ordinary people. In his last years Dickens drew adoring crowds, had met presidents and princes, and had amassed a fortune. Yet like his heroes, Dickens trod a hard path to greatness. His young life was overturned when his profligate father was sent to debtors' prison and Dickens was forced into harsh factory work--but this led to his remarkable eye for all that was absurd, tragic, and redemptive in London life. This biography gives full measure to Dickens's stature--his virtues both as a writer and as a human being--while observing his failings in both respects with an unblinking eye.--From publisher description.
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