It is easy to see why Charles Dickens has been universally acknowledged as one of, if not, the greatest writers of all time. From the tragedy of “Smoke lowering down from chimney-pots, making a soft black drizzle, with flakes of soot in it as big as full-grown snowflakes - gone into mourning, one might imagine, for the death of the sun”, to the comedy of “ … at street-corners, where tens of thousands of other foot passengers have been slipping and sliding since the day broke (if this day ever broke), adding new deposits to the crust upon crust of mud, sticking at those points tenaciously to the pavement, and accumulating at compound interest”, to the drama of “Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into a nether sky of fog, with fog all round them, as if they were up in a balloon and hanging in the misty clouds”, Bleak House is a powerful story worded in powerful poetry. It was that, that became one of the more moving aspects of this book for me, as we move between the aristocratic Dedlock estate of Chesney Wold, and the fog and filth laden Tom-All-Alone’s, and Bleak House itself.
A very unique feature of this story was its dual narrative - recounted in flashback by one of the central characters, Esther Summerson, and in present tense by the third-person narrator; I can’t recollect another Dickens book that employs this style of writing; the juxtaposition of the two very different tones and timelines made it an interesting read.
The story revolves around, and is a scathing comment on, the epic failure of the Court of Chancery, epitomized in its central litigation of Jarndyce v Jarndyce, at the core of which rests a testator who made several wills. Adding to a long history of countless years, immeasurable sums of money, and a growing list of people who have waited in vain for a verdict, are Richard Carstone and Ada Clare, and - in conflicting wills - John Jarndyce and Lady Dedlock. In the incident where, in a courtroom bursting with official procedures and official terms, the jury gives the verdict of “accidental death” of Nemo, the great farce that is the legal system takes on a tragic hue as the testimony of the one person who knew him and could have shed some light on the matter, is dismissed, as it comes from a homeless boy who doesn’t even know his own last name.
This book goes beyond the legal system to become a strong commentary on the condition of most of the so-called pillars of society. It showcases the rot that has reached all areas from Charity to Religion to Government - not once becoming in any way didactic. So-called charity work is denounced in the great irony of Mrs. Pardiggle going about her “good works” for the poor in such a demeaning manner as to have counter-productive results. At the brick maker’s hut, where the wife - with clear marks of physical abuse on her face - nurses her baby even as it dies before their eyes, Mrs. Pardiggle focuses on teaching them the merits of reading and nursing dolls and doing work. And then there is Mrs. Jellyby, the philanthropist obsessed with a faraway African tribe, but shockingly unaware of her own children, be it even a son missing or a daughter getting married.
Religious fervour is satirized in the portrayal of such characters as Mr. Chadband, the preacher whose outrageous statements combined with his poor treatment of the less fortunate make him, and all he supposedly stands for, not at all likeable.
And of course there is constant humour directed at the Government and its functioning! - “He perceives with astonishment that supposing the present government to be overthrown, the limited choice of the Crown, in the formation of a new ministry, would lie between Lord Coodle and Sir Thomas Doodle - supposing it to be impossible for the Duke of Foodle to act with Goodle, which may be assumed to be the case in consequence of the breach arising out of that affair with Hoodle.” Quite obviously, it is always a choice between the lesser of two evils!
One of my favourite things about reading a Dickens novel is the way the characters are placed. All characters are introduced to us one incident at a time, but as we slowly discover, all of them are linked together and eventually come together in a cohesive story.
Other than the central protagonists, some of my more memorable characters (both good and bad) include Harold Skimpole, the self-proclaimed “child” who is not above living a remorseless life based on money handed out to him; the despicable Mr. Vholes, forever professing extreme professionalism and morality, yet - in a manner that reminded me of Uriah Heep - crafty and self-serving to the last; Jo, the young boy who lived on the streets and even there was forever asked to “move along” and whose life was wrought with so much pain and sorrow; and Mr. William Guppy who, along with Mr. Tulkinghorn, played a part in revealing the mystery that surrounds Esther and Lady Dedlock. Grandfather and Mrs. Smallweed sat “ … in their two porter's chairs, like a couple of sentinels long forgotten on their post by the Black Serjeant, Death” - Dickens does characters so well! But not just in the creation of their mannerisms, but also in their voices and even accents - from the cockney to the Scottish, all the voices come alive, and after a point you feel you are not reading a great book, you are watching an epic movie!
Like the strong themes and strong characterizations, there were also some sections that especially left a very powerful impact on my mind. One of them was any section dealing with Tom-All-Alone’s - be it a description of the wretched place, or of its miserable inhabitants. The other was the section dealing with The Ghost’s Walk at Chesney Wold; carrying with it, a tale that was as sad as it was eerie!
If there was one thing that I found to be an annoyance in an otherwise perfect story, it was the relationship of Esther and Ada, as narrated by Esther. Although they were obviously not intended to be lovers (in which case I would have had no issue at all), it seemed to me that Esther did a lot of hugging and kissing and crying for and spying on Ada. She only calls her “my pet” or “my darling”; every time she goes to sleep, she steals into her room to kiss her; and once when she was to meet her after a considerable gap in time, she ran about everywhere nervously, finally hiding behind the door, “trembling” with excitement… it was all just a bit peculiar!
One last comment before I end this blog. Dickens can seem a little slow at times, but this is a product of a very different time. It was a time when reading was cherished and neither writers nor readers were by-products of a time-bound ‘drive-through’ culture. Slowly, but surely, Dickens’ world reveals so much - life and death, love and betrayal, marriage and affairs - and it is always such a gratifying experience!
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