The Old Curiosity Club discussion
note: This topic has been closed to new comments.
General Discussion
>
The Three Cripples
date
newest »

message 101:
by
Xan
(new)
Aug 22, 2018 04:28AM

reply
|
flag
Mary Lou wrote: "Tristram wrote: "do you already know whereabout in Germany?..."
I can't remember what they told me, but the company headquarters is in Heidenheim, so that would be my guess. If it happens, I'll le..."
Yes, I did enjoy our vacation. The only sad thing was that eventually my wife and her parents had to say good-bye for at least another year.
Heidenheim sounds like it was in the south. If they are lucky, it's in Bavaria!
I can't remember what they told me, but the company headquarters is in Heidenheim, so that would be my guess. If it happens, I'll le..."
Yes, I did enjoy our vacation. The only sad thing was that eventually my wife and her parents had to say good-bye for at least another year.
Heidenheim sounds like it was in the south. If they are lucky, it's in Bavaria!

Xan, I feel that Opera is the best browser I've ever used, and that includes use of Chrome. The set-up and general functionality are user-friendly, and it has a built-in ad-blocker that can be set to personal preference. A lot of users also like it for privacy and security, though I'm not well-versed on that aspect. There is also an Opera-Mini that I use on my phone instead of Chrome. It works well, too.
www.opera.com

https://www.bookbub.com/welcome
When you sign up, which only involves giving them your e mail address, you receive a daily e mail in the morning for Kindle or Nook books where there is a sale and/or price drop.
A friend recommended it to me, so I tried. Every morning I get the e mail, which usually covers four or five books where the price drop is nice. (Usually about $10-15 per e book).
I've had it for a year now and periodically buy books where the price has dropped. It's been good.

Many things amaze us about Charles Dickens: his energy and productivity, the depth and range of his vision, the beauty of his sentences and the freshness of his wit....
Also unusual and admirable is the consistency of his ability to inspire with such deceptive effortlessness....
We can barely comprehend the imagination and technical skill required to compose 800 page masterworks in regular installments determined not by the needs of the artist but for the convenience of printers....
The astonishment we feel when we contemplate this strenuous mode of composition has, in my opinion, been best expressed by the novelist David Gates: was he a Martian?"

Thanks for this, John. I've always thought of his many talents his greatest was his ability to publish serially while his novels were works in progress. Writing in segments that coalesce into a seamless whole, maintaining the quality of his work while meeting a schedule of deliverables that permits no slippage, and no time to reflect upon the finished work and make changes based on that reflection. Genius!
Does anyone know if he created outlines and if any exist?
In some of the Penguin editions there are outlines, but it seems as though Dickens's outlines had been very rudimentary, consisting of Chapter titles and quick notes, e.g. on the characters to appear in the respective chapter. He must have had a remarkable memory.
John wrote: "I have been reading Francine Prose's What To Read And Why. The chapter devoted to Dickens has some great insights and words about him that I thought I would share:
Many things amaze us about Charl..."
Thanks for this John. Dickens’s energy, range of ability and, as noted, the brilliance of turning out such grand novels under crushing time constraints has always totally baffled me.
Many things amaze us about Charl..."
Thanks for this John. Dickens’s energy, range of ability and, as noted, the brilliance of turning out such grand novels under crushing time constraints has always totally baffled me.
Dickens's incredible energy and the wide range of projects he undertook apart from writing all these novels and Christmas stories - he was a newspaper editor, wrote hundreds of letters, did important charity work, play-acted and wrote lots of shorter fictional texts as well, travelled a lot and gave public readings - always intimidate me when I come to think of them. But maybe his comparatively early death was the price he had to pay for living on the fast lane.

Xan Shadowflutter wrote: "John wrote: "We can barely comprehend the imagination and technical skill required to compose 800 page masterworks in regular installments determined not by the needs of the artist but for the conv..."
My own belief on this is that he used the letters he wrote to his friend Forster as a way of outlining and planning his work, both in the birthing stage and in the actual writing. If one looks at his letters to Forster, there are many examples of his thinking out loud, planning, and outlining for most of his works.
John wrote: "Tristram wrote: "In some of the Penguin editions there are outlines, but it seems as though Dickens's outlines had been very rudimentary, consisting of Chapter titles and quick notes, e.g. on the c..."
Yes. The letters are a most important place to find much information on his thinking and processes in writing.
Yes. The letters are a most important place to find much information on his thinking and processes in writing.

Now I'm wondering did he have to ask Forster for the letters back so he could work from them? Or was putting it in words alone enough to commit it to memory for him until it got on the page?

Julie, I believe yes to both of your questions. He had an arrangement with Forster about saving letters for review and use. When he came to the United States in 1842, he wrote a number of letters to Forster and he asked him to save the letters so he could review them when he returned. Those letters formed the basis for American Notes. I believe it is safe to assume that this arrangement applied to the novels as well.

https://londonist.com/2016/09/the-lon...
From The Life of Charles Dickens by John Forster:
That Saturday's celebration of his twelfth number, the anniversary of the birth of Pickwick, preceded by but a few weeks a personal sorrow which profoundly moved him. His wife's next younger sister, Mary, who lived with them, and by sweetness of nature even more than by graces of person had made herself the ideal of his life, died with a terrible suddenness that for the time completely bore him down. His grief and suffering were intense, and affected him, as will be seen, through many after-years. The publication of Pickwick was interrupted for two months, the effort of writing it not being possible to him. He moved for change of scene to Hampstead, and here, at the close of May, I visited him, and became first his guest. More than ordinarily susceptible at the moment to all kindliest impressions, his heart opened itself to mine. I left him as much his friend, and as entirely in his confidence, as if I had known him for years. Nor had many weeks passed before he addressed to me from Doughty Street words which it is my sorrowful pride to remember have had literal fulfillment: "I look back with unmingled pleasure to every link which each ensuing week has added to the chain of our attachment. It shall go hard, I hope, ere anything but Death impairs the toughness of a bond now so firmly riveted." It remained unweakened till death came.
His new story was now beginning largely to share attention with his Pickwick Papers, and it was delightful to see how real all its people became to him. What I had most, indeed, to notice in him, at the very outset of his career, was his indifference to any praise of his performances on the merely literary side, compared with the higher recognition of them as bits of actual life, with the meaning and purpose on their part, and the responsibility on his, of realities rather than creatures of fancy. The exception that might be drawn from Pickwick is rather in seeming than substance. A first book has its immunities, and the distinction of this from the rest of the writings appears in what has been said of its origin. The plan of it was simply to amuse. It was to string together whimsical sketches of the pencil by entertaining sketches of the pen; and, at its beginning, where or how it was to end was as little known to himself as to any of its readers. But genius is a master as well as a servant, and when the laughter and fun were at their highest something graver made its appearance. He had to defend himself for this; and he said that, though the mere oddity of a new acquaintance was apt to impress one at first, the more serious qualities were discovered when we became friends with the man. In other words he might have said that the change was become necessary for his own satisfaction. The book itself, in teaching him what his power was, had made him more conscious of what would be expected from its use; and this never afterwards quitted him. In what he was to do hereafter, as in all he was doing now, with Pickwick still to finish and Oliver only beginning, it constantly attended him. Nor could it well be otherwise, with all those fanciful creations so real, to a nature in itself so practical and earnest; and in this spirit I had well understood the letter accompanying what had been published of Oliver since its commencement the preceding February, which reached me the day after I visited him. Something to the effect of what has just been said, I had remarked publicly of the portion of the story sent to me; and his instant warm-hearted acknowledgment, of which I permit myself to quote a line or two, showed me in what perfect agreement we were: "How can I thank you? Can I do better than by saying that the sense of poor Oliver's reality, which I know you have had from the first, has been the highest of all praise to me? None that has been lavished upon me have I felt half so much as that appreciation of my intent and meaning. You know I have ever done so, for it was your feeling for me and mine for you that first brought us together, and I hope will keep us so till death do us part. Your notices make me grateful, but very proud: so have a care of them."
There was nothing written by him after this date which I did not see before the world did, either in manuscript or proofs; and in connection with the latter I shortly began to give him the help which he publicly mentioned twenty years later in dedicating his collected writings to me. One of his letters reminds me when these corrections began, and they were continued very nearly to the last. They lightened for him a labor of which he had more than enough imposed upon him at this time by others, and they were never anything but an enjoyment to me. "I have," he wrote, "so many sheets of the Miscellany to correct before I can begin Oliver, that I fear I shall not be able to leave home this morning. I therefore send your revise of the Pickwick by Fred, who is on his way with it to the printers. You will see that my alterations are very slight, but I think for the better." This was the fourteenth number of the Pickwick Papers. Fred was his next younger brother, who lived with him at the time.
That Saturday's celebration of his twelfth number, the anniversary of the birth of Pickwick, preceded by but a few weeks a personal sorrow which profoundly moved him. His wife's next younger sister, Mary, who lived with them, and by sweetness of nature even more than by graces of person had made herself the ideal of his life, died with a terrible suddenness that for the time completely bore him down. His grief and suffering were intense, and affected him, as will be seen, through many after-years. The publication of Pickwick was interrupted for two months, the effort of writing it not being possible to him. He moved for change of scene to Hampstead, and here, at the close of May, I visited him, and became first his guest. More than ordinarily susceptible at the moment to all kindliest impressions, his heart opened itself to mine. I left him as much his friend, and as entirely in his confidence, as if I had known him for years. Nor had many weeks passed before he addressed to me from Doughty Street words which it is my sorrowful pride to remember have had literal fulfillment: "I look back with unmingled pleasure to every link which each ensuing week has added to the chain of our attachment. It shall go hard, I hope, ere anything but Death impairs the toughness of a bond now so firmly riveted." It remained unweakened till death came.
His new story was now beginning largely to share attention with his Pickwick Papers, and it was delightful to see how real all its people became to him. What I had most, indeed, to notice in him, at the very outset of his career, was his indifference to any praise of his performances on the merely literary side, compared with the higher recognition of them as bits of actual life, with the meaning and purpose on their part, and the responsibility on his, of realities rather than creatures of fancy. The exception that might be drawn from Pickwick is rather in seeming than substance. A first book has its immunities, and the distinction of this from the rest of the writings appears in what has been said of its origin. The plan of it was simply to amuse. It was to string together whimsical sketches of the pencil by entertaining sketches of the pen; and, at its beginning, where or how it was to end was as little known to himself as to any of its readers. But genius is a master as well as a servant, and when the laughter and fun were at their highest something graver made its appearance. He had to defend himself for this; and he said that, though the mere oddity of a new acquaintance was apt to impress one at first, the more serious qualities were discovered when we became friends with the man. In other words he might have said that the change was become necessary for his own satisfaction. The book itself, in teaching him what his power was, had made him more conscious of what would be expected from its use; and this never afterwards quitted him. In what he was to do hereafter, as in all he was doing now, with Pickwick still to finish and Oliver only beginning, it constantly attended him. Nor could it well be otherwise, with all those fanciful creations so real, to a nature in itself so practical and earnest; and in this spirit I had well understood the letter accompanying what had been published of Oliver since its commencement the preceding February, which reached me the day after I visited him. Something to the effect of what has just been said, I had remarked publicly of the portion of the story sent to me; and his instant warm-hearted acknowledgment, of which I permit myself to quote a line or two, showed me in what perfect agreement we were: "How can I thank you? Can I do better than by saying that the sense of poor Oliver's reality, which I know you have had from the first, has been the highest of all praise to me? None that has been lavished upon me have I felt half so much as that appreciation of my intent and meaning. You know I have ever done so, for it was your feeling for me and mine for you that first brought us together, and I hope will keep us so till death do us part. Your notices make me grateful, but very proud: so have a care of them."
There was nothing written by him after this date which I did not see before the world did, either in manuscript or proofs; and in connection with the latter I shortly began to give him the help which he publicly mentioned twenty years later in dedicating his collected writings to me. One of his letters reminds me when these corrections began, and they were continued very nearly to the last. They lightened for him a labor of which he had more than enough imposed upon him at this time by others, and they were never anything but an enjoyment to me. "I have," he wrote, "so many sheets of the Miscellany to correct before I can begin Oliver, that I fear I shall not be able to leave home this morning. I therefore send your revise of the Pickwick by Fred, who is on his way with it to the printers. You will see that my alterations are very slight, but I think for the better." This was the fourteenth number of the Pickwick Papers. Fred was his next younger brother, who lived with him at the time.
Mary Lou wrote: "Interesting article on Dickens' London, and how it's portrayed in his novels.
https://londonist.com/2016/09/the-lon..."
Mary Lou
Thank you for the article on the Dickens Map of London. There were wonderful facts to discover and myths to bust in it about Dickens and his use of his favourite city. Endlessly fascinating.
https://londonist.com/2016/09/the-lon..."
Mary Lou
Thank you for the article on the Dickens Map of London. There were wonderful facts to discover and myths to bust in it about Dickens and his use of his favourite city. Endlessly fascinating.
Kim wrote: "From The Life of Charles Dickens by John Forster:
That Saturday's celebration of his twelfth number, the anniversary of the birth of Pickwick, preceded by but a few weeks a personal sorrow which p..."
Kim
What a wonderful excerpt that clearly explains the close attachment between Dickens and Forster and answers the question of who was Dickens greatest literary ally and confident.
I confess that I have never read Forster’s Dickens cover to cover, a fact that I need to remedy immediately.
I like your new picture by the way. :-))
That Saturday's celebration of his twelfth number, the anniversary of the birth of Pickwick, preceded by but a few weeks a personal sorrow which p..."
Kim
What a wonderful excerpt that clearly explains the close attachment between Dickens and Forster and answers the question of who was Dickens greatest literary ally and confident.
I confess that I have never read Forster’s Dickens cover to cover, a fact that I need to remedy immediately.
I like your new picture by the way. :-))

Thanks, John and Kim, for illuminating the Dickens-Forster relationship. Lucky Forster, to get such an inside view of the process!
(I couldn't handle it, though. I have a friend who's writing a series of novels and I don't want to read the drafts of the later books because, having read the first one, I don't want to have any say in who lives or dies. Hard enough to handle that as an ordinary reader!)
Yes, John, we will soon move on to another inn because the landlord of The Three Cripples is already showing signs of impatience. He has also lost one of his best customers, a certain Mr. Sikes ;-)

https://londonist.com/2016/09/the-lon...
(Click on the full-screen icon in the top right corner of the gray bar at the top of the map to pick and choose books.)
This is really an invaluable site, Julie. Thanks a lot for sharing this find with us. I would never have thought that Barnaby Rudge had the most London references, but maybe that is because Dickens wanted to show that he was even familiar with a London that no longer existed on a contemporary map?
By the way, there is also a link to a Sherlock Holmes London map. Promises to be interesting.
By the way, there is also a link to a Sherlock Holmes London map. Promises to be interesting.

Alissa wrote: "I went to Target recently and saw their white dog, "Bullseye" (formerly named, Spot), on a giant poster. After reading OT, I did a double take. Do you think somebody in corporate was a Dickens fan? ;)"
Alissa
Dickens meets corporate America. A wonderful thought.
Alissa
Dickens meets corporate America. A wonderful thought.
John wrote: "Very interesting. If asked point blank, I would have said Bleak House."
Yes, either this one or Pickwick. But apparently counting out the references provides a surprise for any Dickens fan :-)
Yes, either this one or Pickwick. But apparently counting out the references provides a surprise for any Dickens fan :-)

Yes, either this one or Pickwick. But apparently counting out the references provides a surprise for any Dicken..."
Tristram, the thought also occurred to me: Our Mutual Friend. It was mentioned in the link, but I wonder how many people who have read most of Dickens would say that book? It seems to me, in looking back, to be such a logical choice.

By the way, I do think Our Mutual Friend is his best (not necessarily my favourite) book :) Now fight among yourselves LOL!

Interestingly enough, the author of The Friendly Dickens considers OMF in the top rank of his novels. She wrote that she feels it is his most "modern" novel. I guess the idea that he was, in a way, predicting the flow from the Victorian era into Modernism, which more likely occurred about 40 years after his passing. Perhaps there is some truth to that, though I would have to go back and reread as to why she considers it a modern novel.
As to my guess at what novel might have had the most London references, I would also have argued, like Jean, that OMF also plays outside London to a certain extent - maybe more so than BH. I thought it could be BH because of all the different London settings we get - and because I think it is the novel with the highest number of plotlines and characters, apart from PP.
My favourite is clearly BH, and then OMF.
My favourite is clearly BH, and then OMF.

The two people who cannot afford to play cards for money, sometimes sit down to a quiet game of love.
There are a few Ralphs and Nicholases to sort out, but other than that, a good start.
This topic has been frozen by the moderator. No new comments can be posted.
Books mentioned in this topic
Our Mutual Friend (other topics)Unnatural Death (other topics)
Authors mentioned in this topic
Dorothy L. Sayers (other topics)Dorothy L. Sayers (other topics)
Adolfo Bioy Casares (other topics)