On a scale of one to five stars, I anoint “David Copperfield” with six.

Charles Dickens’ “David Copperfield” is the author’s favorite book. He says “I am a fond parent to every child of my fancy, and that no one can ever love that family as dearly as I love them. But, like many fond parents, I have in my heart of hearts a favourite child. And his name is David Copperfield.”

“David Copperfield,” which was published in 1850 (Dickens began publishing stories in 1833), is the book that most mirrors his own life. David Copperfield is born to his widowed mother, Clara, and his looked after by this loving nurse, Peggotty.

While still a young boy, David’s mother marries a dreadful man by the name of Murdstone, who along with his sinister sister, Miss Murdstone, make life miserable for young Davy. He is sent off to boarding school, and subsequently after his mother dies, Murdstone sends him to work in a factory.

David finds his only living relative, his aunt Betsey Trotwood, (who calls him “Trotwood Copperfield” and life begins anew under her care and as he returns to school. This novel, told in the first person, takes the reader from David’s birth well into adulthood, effortlessly weaving many stories throughout which often beautifully connect with one another.

It is not just the stories in this novel that make it so wonderful; it is also Dickens’ trademark colorful, larger-than-life, funny, cruel, outspoken, pathetic, sweet, eccentric, and outrageous characters. The people are all so vivid and memorable and the situations hilarious, poignant, remarkable, and sad. I laughed aloud so many times, especially at the character David Copperfield so hated, the skeletal, “umble,” and always writhing, Uriah Heep. This is truly not a review of Dickens’ book as much as it is my profession of love for this book. I’m glad I didn’t read it years ago; I might have forgotten too much. But truly, these are characters that I know will stay with me. It is rare that I choose (or make time) to read an 821-page book; this was worth it, indeed. I look forward, down the line, to reading more of Dickens’ work that I missed in earlier years.