Happy Friday! This week, Kelly finally gets around to reading a classic: Charles Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities.
A few paragraphs past the famous opening line ("It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness..."), I looked up from this book and told my husband "I forgot how much I hate Dickens."
It helped a lot that A Tale of Two Cities is one of Dickens' more plot-driven novels. All of the peril and gore helped to distract me from everything about his writing style that never clicked for me.
Eventually I also began to care about the characters; despite myself, I felt protective of that Victorian golden-haired angel of the house, Lucie Manette. Then I began hoping for a grim death for anyone who threatened the well-being of good old Mr. Lorry. I wished futilely that there were such a thing as 18th-century AA for Sidney Carton. My growing acquaintance with Madame Defarge became a growing horror.
I knew the ending before I began the book, but spoilers didn't stop me from turning the pages. A grim end feels as inevitable as the next drop of La Guillotine's blade, but in the literal shadow of death, hope and goodness still peek defiantly. A Tale of Two Cities shows us both the best and worst of human nature and reminds us that, while we can't always choose our fate, we can choose how we will meet it.
