David Copperfield - Charles Dickens

Phew!  I didn't know if I'd make it through this one, but I did.

A little over a year ago, I was at the first annual Chestertown Book Festival, and one of the speakers I had the pleasure of seeing was a book critic for NPR - or maybe the Washington Post.  One of the two.  Anyway, I don't remember her name (or where, apparently, she works) but I do remember that she said that one of her favorite all-time books is this one - David Copperfield.  So I went right out and bought it.  All (almost) 900 pages of it.

I started this book almost two months ago.  It's not fast reading; I couldn't just zip through it.  And as frustrating as it was to be progressing so slowly through such a thick tome, I was enjoying every bit of the story.  Finally, with my being on vacation this week, I was able to really spend time, dig in and give this book its due.  I really got a lot out of it.

Anyone can look up this book online to get an idea of the plot; David Copperfield and his life.  But it's so rich...the number of characters, the interconnectedness of them, the way they fade away and then come back...it's like a tapestry in that regard.  And so many insights into the culture of the time, with some opinions in there on class, poverty, snobbery.  Truly a rich novel.

One of the passages that really spoke to me was toward the end.  David has had a lot of loss in a relatively short time, and has reached a point where he's able to step back and breathe and really start to accept it all.

     I went away from England; not knowing, even then, how great the shock was, that I had to bear.  I left all who were dear to me, and went away; and believed that I had borne it, and it was past.  As a man upon a field of battle will receive a mortal hurt, and scarcely know that he is struck, so I, when I was left alone with my undisciplined heart, had no conception of the wound with which it had to strive.
     The knowledge came upon me, not quickly, but little by little, and grain by grain.  The desolate feeling with which I went abroad, deepened and widened hourly.  At first it was a heavy sense of loss and sorrow, wherein I could distinguish little else.  By imperceptible degrees, it became a hopeless consciousness of all that I had lost - love, friendship, interest; of all that had been shattered - my first trust, my first affection, the whole airy castle of my life; of all that remained - a ruined blank and waste, lying wide around me, unbroken, to the dark horizon.


Yeah.  That's some deep stuff.

If you're looking for a nice light read, this is not the book for you.  But if you're looking to read a classic, a novel that will hold onto you for some time, that you can really sink your teeth into, and with people you'll come to like and dislike - then this is a perfect fit.