There is no dearth of material about the life and times of Charles Dickens, one of the most popular novelists of all times, one of my top favorites for a long long time. He was a master storyteller and so dearly beloved that when my MA Lit. lecturer announced in a class that he had many flaws as a novelist, the whole class let out several exclamation of dissent. Dickens wrote many iconic novels and has enjoyed a readership that even J.K. Rowling can envy.
To honor this unparallelled master Google depicted this picture on its site:
I have commenced reading The Pickwick Papers today after many years. Here is a paragraph out of this highly amusing book.
“On his right hand, sat Mr. Tracy Tupman; the too susceptible Tupman, who to the wisdom and experience of maturer years superadded the enthusiasm and ardor of a boy, in the most interesting and pardonable of human weaknesses – love. Time and feeding had expanded that once romantic form; the black silk waistcoat had become more and more developed; inch by inch had the gold watch chain beneath it disappeared from within the range of Tupman's vision; and gradually had the capacious chin encroached upon the borders of the white cravat, but the soul of Tupman had known no change – admiration of the fair sex was still its ruling passion.”
In a few skillful lines, he sketches the form and character of Mr. Tracy Tupman. This was his most endearing quality. It made his novels feel like a visual feast, it made imagining the characters easy, it made them vivid and it made them live in our memory forever. Happy Birthday Charles Dickens, I am sure your novels will live forever.