After finishing Martin Chuzzlewit, by Charles Dickens, I wondered if I had made a mistake committing myself to reading ten novels by Dickens this year. I liked Martin Chuzzlewit, but I didn’t love it. Maybe I was reading too much by the same author? Then I opened to the first page of David Copperfield and I knew I would love the novel. For some reason the first paragraph hooked me immediately.
Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o’clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously.
He has such an ease with his writing. The paragraph above doesn’t tell that much information and yet it still conveys so much. After reading the first monthly installment of David Copperfield, Thackeray exclaimed, “Bravo Dickens.” I concur. I started this novel a few days ago and when I find the time to sit down to read it, I devour large chunks. He has sucked me into the story completely and once again I think he is one of the best writers.
What writers do you love?