Ooh Charlie, you manipulative little bugger...

It seemed to take me forever to read the first half of this book - up until the Dorrit's left Venice - mostly because whenever I picked it up I flew into a temper almost immediately, and whenever I put it down I had to battle with myself to start it again, what with virtually everybody inside it being so ruddy hateful. At times (mostly whenever dealing with the bloody Barnacles and the sodding Circumlocution Office) there was also a desperate need of a far more ruthless editor. I think that possibly Arthur Clennam, Pancks and Tattycoram were the only people within that I didn't wholeheartedly despise at some point or another and I did find myself frequently (especially when the Dorrit's got rich) hoping that someone would come along and fleece them all (view spoiler)[(thank the gods then for Mr Merdle) (hide spoiler)]

Even Little Dorrit herself wasn't safe from my rages - I'm sure that in Dickens' eyes she was the paragon of duty, virtue and everything that is good and sweet in the world, but to me she was such a little doormat that I soon stopped feeling any pity for her and instead found her profoundly irritating . All that said, it's a testament to Dickens' writing that, even if the feelings he provoked were largely negative, he was able to make me feel so strongly and also that, once the latter half of the story commenced and everything started to come together that I found myself far less inclined to irritation and even found myself oddly moved at times (view spoiler)[(even when Mr Dorrit, who I could see no - ha hum - redeeming features in whatsoever, finally met the fate I'd been wishing upon him from the very start) (hide spoiler)]

So at the very end, although I can't say that this was a reading experience that I really enjoyed, it's one that I'm glad I had nonetheless.