Bleak House in Never too Late to Read Classics

Jan 23, 2015 Sara rated it it was amazing

Shelves: murder, classics, victorian, literary-fiction, detective, english-fiction

UPDATE: On my second reading of Bleak House, I found myself just as caught up in the story, just as involved with the characters, and just as amazed at Dickens’ ability to weave a world that one can only be sorrowful to leave behind in the end. I closed the book the second time with tears standing in my eyes and with a strong conviction that if you could only have The Bible, Shakespeare and Dickens in your library, you would have the whole of humanity at your fingertips.

************************* UPDATE: On my second reading of Bleak House, I found myself just as caught up in the story, just as involved with the characters, and just as amazed at Dickens’ ability to weave a world that one can only be sorrowful to leave behind in the end. I closed the book the second time with tears standing in my eyes and with a strong conviction that if you could only have The Bible, Shakespeare and Dickens in your library, you would have the whole of humanity at your fingertips.

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It always feels a bit presumptive when I am trying to review the masters of the novel, a Dickens, Hardy, or Eliot. What can someone like myself contribute, that might matter, to the appreciation of a masterpiece like Bleak House. And yet, I want to effuse about it, I want to praise it, I want to say how completely effective it is and how strangely relevant to our society if you merely put the characters in cars instead of horse-drawn conveyances. I want to tell everyone that within its pages you will find the human condition has changed less than the progress we have made might indicate. At their hearts people are in want of love and understanding, food and warmth, that they are greedy or kind or confused or evil in the same way regardless of the era of their birth.

One of the major characters, Esther, might be painted a bit too perfect and faultless, too sweet and grateful and considerate; but I find myself quite happy with her and wanting to believe that there might exist people who at least strive to be this good. John Jarndyce is one of the finest characters in fiction--a man who does good wherever he can and expects nothing in return, including thanks. And what can one say of Harold Skimpole? He is despicable because he never takes any responsibility for his actions and lives the life of a leech by cloaking himself in the guise of a child. He is a universally harmful person, at whom one chuckles in the beginning, but loathes by the end. A host of fascinating characters (Lady Dedlock, George the Trooper, and Inspector Bucket all shine) people this novel and keep the suspense and interest alive throughout. Because this is Dickens, you can be sure there are villains aplenty, innocents in danger of being squashed by society, and poverty of a level that is appalling. If there is anything Dickens understands it is class division and the inability of the ordinary man to lift himself out of the gutter once life has flung him there.

Then there is the condemnation of the legal system and the sad injustice that is built into its operations. The suit of Jarndyce and Jarndyce that is at the heart of the novel exposes in how little measure the legal system exists for the good or benefit of those who find themselves in its grasp. How sad, we are told, to wrap your life up in any expectation of justice or relief from the courts, what a waste of time for anyone but the lawyers who alone seem to profit from the venture.

Dickens knows his craft and provides just the right mix of sentiment, humor and mystery. In turn, I laughed aloud, cried a bit and neglected chores to get to the end of a chapter and the possible nugget of information that might help to solve one of the myriad mysteries presented. He plays with words and images and I could not help noting that the least “bleak” house of all was John Jarndyce’s home that officially carried the name.

Every time I read a true classic, I have to stop and kick myself for having been so long getting around to it. There is a reason these stories have lasted through centuries. There is a reason they do not fade into oblivion along with so many of their fellows. They spoke to the audience they were written for, and, they speak just as eloquently to the audience that finds them today. If I live long enough, I hope to be able to say I have read every Dickens novel. At least now I can say I have read Bleak House, and it was an experience worth having. ...more

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Sep 20, 2021 Laura (Reading is a Doing Word) rated it liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: classics-trad-and-modern, books-i-own, 2021-read, dickens

This is the 9th book in my #ayearofdickens2021 challenge.

I went into this book with high hopes. So many people had messaged me to say it was a favourite of theirs and I really wanted to love it. I enjoyed it, but I was left a little lost at the end and can’t say I really loved it.
It’s a complex and intriguing story but I found the juxtaposition of narrator voices a bit jarring at times. Esther’s narration was engaging but changing to the omniscient narrator took a while to readjust to and, at t ...more

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Jun 03, 2022 Shirley (stampartiste) rated it it was amazing

Shelves: favorite-author-dickens-charles, published-1899-and-earlier, classics-500-plus-pages, read-classics, challenge-bingo-2022

What an incredible, complex story full of twists and turns and incredibly memorable characters! There were so many layers to this story that there is no way I would have derived the pleasure and understanding I did were it not for reading it with Bionic Jean's wonderful Dickensians! group. The pace of reading (one chapter a day, with a day off between installments) provided more time to reflect on each chapter. If you are a Charles Dickens admirer, then I encourage you to join this group to get ...more

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Jun 21, 2019 Christine PNW rated it liked it · review of another edition

Whew - I have finished this 813 page book after a couple of false starts.

It's classic Dickens. I've heard it called his masterpiece, but I don't have enough experience with Dickens to weigh in on that subject. I did like it a whole lot better than Dombey and Son, but I didn't like it so well as either Great Expectations or Oliver Twist.

The last 20% was a bit of a bloodbath, though, with a murder, an attempted frame-up, and then one of those Victorian deaths where a character just up and dies of Whew - I have finished this 813 page book after a couple of false starts.

It's classic Dickens. I've heard it called his masterpiece, but I don't have enough experience with Dickens to weigh in on that subject. I did like it a whole lot better than Dombey and Son, but I didn't like it so well as either Great Expectations or Oliver Twist.

The last 20% was a bit of a bloodbath, though, with a murder, an attempted frame-up, and then one of those Victorian deaths where a character just up and dies of despair. I think my favorite character was poor Caddy Jellyby Turveydrop, although I liked all of the women in this one (Ada was kind of meh, but only because she had a whiff of Dora about her). Mrs. Jellyby is a hoot and I can certainly understand why she has become the stuff of Dickensian legend.

Anyway, Dickens is always just Dickens. His books are teeming with life, like when you're in 5th grade science class and the teacher puts a drop of pond water under a microscope so all of the kids can see all of the little amoebas and bacterium and other bits of life wriggling about. I know that he is melodramatic and that his characters more often resemble caricatures, but once I fall into a Dickens, I feel like I'm in Victorian, England, which is a place I dearly love to visit in the literary sense (don't get me wrong, I have no illusions about how awful and smelly it would've been to actually live in it).

I have to share the second paragraph in the book, because it is so fabulously Dickensian and atmospheric:

Fog everywhere. Fog up the river where it flows among green aits and meadows, fog down the river where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping, and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city. Fog on the Essex marshes, fog on the Kentish heights. Fog creeping into the cabooses of collier-brigs; fog lying out on the yards and hovering in the rigging of great ships; fog drooping on the gunwales of barges and small boats. Fog in the eyes and throats of ancient Greenwich pensioners, wheezing by the firesides of their wards; fog in the stem and bowl of the afternoon pipe of the wrathful skipper, down in his close cabin; fog cruelly pinching the toes and fingers of his shivering little 'prentice boy on deck. 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. ...more

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