It took me 200 pages to get into but holy cow, Bleak House is a masterpiece.

#BleakHouse #dickens #bookstodon

For those New Year's diet resolutions:

"...that the blended scents of tea and coffee were so grateful to the nose, or even that the raisins were so plentiful and rare, the almonds so extremely white, the sticks of cinnamon so long and straight, the other spices so delicious, the candied fruits so caked and spotted with molten sugar as to make the coldest lookers-on feel faint..."

Christmas Carol
Charles Dickens

#Literature #Dickens #PublicDomain

Happy New Year to you all. A little late, but here's a new blog post from us on "Dickens and Christmas – traditions in the Charles Dickens Museum"

https://www.exploreyourarchive.org/dickens-and-christmas-traditions-in-the-charles-dickens-museum/

#dickens #archives @histodons

To frame #Grinch vs #Scrooge as a mere new-for-old replacement misses half the point of #AChristmasCarol: it’s not just a redemption story, but—like much of #Dickens’ work—also a critique of the class system.

#Christmas #Xmas https://tomkahe.com/@GiftArticles/115785082004346873

<<Cómodamente instalado sobre ese trono, había un alegre gigante de agradable aspecto, con una resplandeciente antorcha de forma muy similar a la del cuerno de la abundancia, que mantenía en alto, sobre su cabeza, para alumbrar a Scrooge cuando éste se asomó a la puerta.
--¡Pasa! –exclamó el espectro-. ¡Pasa, hombre, y conóceme mejor!>>

#popazo #art #mastoart #quotes #citas #lectura #libros #books #literatura #novela #novel #narrative #literaverso #poem #poetry #poesía #dickens #xmas #navidad #navidades #charlesdickens #christmas #christmascarol #canciondenavidad #cuentodenavidad

After #Pratchett & Hogfather, here's another British author for this time of year. You think you know #Dickens #Christmas Carol? Do you remember this scene, when the 2nd Ghost shows who has been hiding under his robe?
----
They were a boy and girl. Yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too, in their humility. Where graceful youth should have filled their features out, and touched them with its freshest tints, a stale and shrivelled hand, like that of age, had pinched, and twisted them, and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. No change, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and dread.

“Spirit! are they yours?” Scrooge could say no more.

“They are Man’s,” said the Spirit, looking down upon them. “And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased. Deny it!” cried the Spirit, stretching out its hand towards the city. “Slander those who tell it ye! Admit it for your factious purposes, and make it worse. And bide the end!”

“Have they no refuge or resource?” cried Scrooge.

“Are there no prisons?” said the Spirit, turning on him for the last time with his own words. “Are there no workhouses?”