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My Kindle Made Me A B*tch
I have seen many many many people drawing up pros and cons of e-readers versus paper’n'ink books. I have even done it myself. However, now that I have been using it for a couple of months, I realise that everyone has been missing a crucial point: e-readers make you a completely unreasonable so-and-so.
Say, for instance, you want to read My Cousin Rachel. In the past, you would simply have gone to the library and checked it out. But now, you head for the kindle store only to find it is not available. You huff and puff about this. Of course, you STILL COULD GO TO THE LIBRARY, YOUR KINDLE HAS NOT BROKEN YOUR LEGS. But now that oddly seems like too much effort. So you don’t read it.
Or say, that you think ok, well I think I might read Great Expectations instead. You head to the Kindle store. But you notice you have to pay for it! Even though Jane Austen is free, Dickens wants your cash! (Why is this, by the way?) And even though it is eighty six pence; approximately the cost of the packet of biscuits you have scoffed, you bitterly resent this. Of course, you STILL COULD GO TO THE LIBRARY, etc, etc. But you don’t. So you don’t read it.
And then say, you want to read Moonwalking With Einstein. But this is ten whole pounds for the kindle book! When it is only £8.17 for the paperback! (And this is still a pricey paperback, I think.) And you cannot understand this discrepancy! And you fret about it for days and days and days and regularly check back in desperation because THERE MUST BE SOME MISTAKE! But there isn’t. And eventually you begrudgingly do fork out the tenner, because you actually do really want to read this. And then you wistfully think back to that eighty six pence on Mr Dickens.
You are probable a nicer, less demanding, more patient person than I am. Your kindle has probably enhanced your life without destroying your soul. How do you manage it?
Bleak House, Bleak Book. In two words: don’t bother.
Today is spoilerific. Hey, I’ve earned it. I’ve read Bleak House.
First, I want to apologise to Amanda for falling off the readalong schedule. It turns out, I’m temperamentally unsuited to:
i) reading more than one book at a time
ii) reading little chunks which mean that I forget what was going on by the time I come to pick the book up again. Especially when there are four million storylines without any story.
iii) reading Dickens. We just weren’t meant to be. I like punctuation, plot, and believable characters. He, erm…doesn’t. He does like spontaneous combustion, but that’s not enough to redeem him.
These were all good life lessons, even if it took me more than a thousand pages to learn them. I am looking for any crumb of comfort to justify the endless hours of my life invested in this book.
I absolutely agree with Amanda’s conclusions in her review – everything she disliked, I thought, exactly. The BBC adaptation is better than the book. The writing is lame. The characters are one dimensional. The subplots are both endless and irrelevant. What’s the point of Caddy? Of the Snagsbys? Of Skimpole?
I literally cannot comprehend the fact that this is supposed to be Dickens’ masterpiece. Unless there are prizes for length. And there shouldn’t be.
But just for the record, there were three things I liked about this book:
i) Lady Dedlock’s courage. I thought her bravery and choices were extraordinary, and her death was really the only moving element in the book. In fact, the moment at which I went off Esther in a really big way was when after I realised that she was not going to SAY ONE WORD about how she was affected by Lady Dedlock’s death. Then I changed my evaluation of her from ‘wet as a dishcloth’ to ‘cold as a fridge’. All that drivelling on about her darling Ada, but nothing for her own mother?
ii) George Rouncewell. He doesn’t necessarily escape from being a bit cardboard cut-out, but nevertheless, he is a thoroughly good chap, and I needed a thoroughly good chap to escape from the tedium of all the other grimy minor characters. A man who proves the distance between justice and the law. The plot stuff that Dickens’ makes him do is totally ridiculous, but that’s only to be expected.
iii) Inspector Bucket. Maybe a controversial choice? But basically, Inspector Bucket is the only character who comes anywhere close to being complex and ambiguous. Are you supposed to like him (because of his 19th century car chase to save Lady Dedlock) or not like him (because he stole Jo and then spooked him). Also, he’s very much a ‘means to an end’ type of guy. I’m pretty sure it’s always been illegal to arrest people you know are innocent . Hey Dickens, ever hear of Magna Carta? It’s a lot easier to understand than Bleak House.
Did they compensate for all the downsides of Bleak House? No. Will I give Dickens another try? Probably. I have always had a little fancy for Great Expectations. But not for a while.
Bleak House – the Readalong, week one
31 people. 10 weeks. 900 pages. (Seems like nine million). This is the Bleak House readalong.
I‘ve never fancied Dickens much. Partly, because his characters have always seemed to me to be one-dimensional caricatures – the plucky orphan, the modest and deserving heroine, the grotesque villain, the hearty uncle. Yawn. Partly, because his constant need to give away clues about people’s characters in their names: you can take conscious whimsy too far, I think.
But mostly, this is a personality thing. I despise men who treat their wives as if they were disposable when they get bored of them – especially in when the wives are then expected to put up and shut up. It seems to me that this is one of the clearest illustrations of the imbalance of power between men and women before independent living and divorce was possible. The atrocious way that Dickens treated his wife is discussed very well in Claire Tomalin’s ‘The Invisible Woman’.
I do appreciate that many writers do much worse things, and if I refused to read alcoholics, or misanthropes or people who are not very nice, then there wouldn’t be much left to read, but there’s always a line, and this is mine.
*climbs down from feminist soapbox*
Anyway, despite all that, I do realise that you are supposed to read authors, before you start mouthing off about how you don’t like them. And it seems like a big gap in my literary life to never have read any Dickens. So might as well jump in at the deep end with Bleak House, right?
And at least I sort of know what’s going on, having watched the excellent BBC adaptation from a couple of years ago. (Yet again, breaking my own rule. I don’t know why I bother with this stupid rule). Though for the purposes of the read along, I’m going to pretend I don’t know what happens. I can’t remember properly anyway.
Unfortunately, in just a few chapters, several of my Dickens-prejudices have been confirmed. There are various creepy characters lurking around being eccentric – Mrs Jellyby, Miss Flyte, Mr Krook, (you see what he did there?) Mr Skimpole.
Obviously, there are also various plucky and cheerful orphans - Ada and Richard, who are sort of blank – and Esther, the heroine, who would be alright if she would stop being so over-the-top self-effacing. I’m not sure about Mr Jarndyce yet. You are obviously supposed to like him, and yet how can he really be a good man since he has such poor judgement about people like Mr Skimpole?
I am enjoying the contrast in styles between Esther’s narration and when the omnipotent narrator takes over. I like the different perspectives, and the narrator gives a good sense of foreboding: Esther is a bit wearingly chirpy. You can clearly see how this was written for serialisation. And despite all my whining; I am enjoying the story. There’s a good mystery a-brewing.
