Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

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What the Dickens?

I’ve been spending time with a favorite family, one that I’ve not visited in some time. The tribulations facing William Dorrit and his grown children make for some great drama, as co-presented by the BBC and WGBH-Boston in an adaptation of Little Dorrit, by Charles Dickens.

Somehow, I missed the whole miniseries when it aired in the US in 2010, but thanks to the hand-held viewing device (you know the thing to which I refer, which shall go un-named here…) I’ve been able to catch up on the episodes.

Much of the real-life of Mr. Dickens was woven into the fabric of his stories, and the patriarch of the Dorrit clan begins the story imprisoned for debt – just as Dickens’ own father had been jailed. A social reformer on many issues, Dickens points out the lack of logic in detaining debtors, who otherwise might have been able to work to pay off their creditors.

Although the work was published serially more than 150 years ago, his topics still reflect the times. One of the subplots involves a banker who is said to turn his clients investments to gold with unfailing returns – in the manner of present-day schemer Bernie Madoff. And – just as the financial scheme of Madoff’s house came crashing down, Mr. Merdle suffers financial and social ruin when his investment scheme eventually fails. The characters in Little Dorrit have their financial security destroyed due to the collapse of what had been considered a no-risk investment, as did the victims of Bernie Madoff.

Where Dickens created distinct characters to enliven his novels, the BBC production has followed faithfully. Andy Serkis plays the evil villain Mssr. Rigaud, who hisses about as much as the character Gollum in the Lord of the Rings movies, also played by Serkis. And Mr. Pancks, the snorting and nervous-twitching rent collector is done justice by British actor Eddie Marsan.

I realize though, that it isn’t the Dorrit family I’m especially fond of – it is the telling of their story by Charles Dickens that draws me in. During William Dorrit’s stint in prison he is alternately pompous and sniveling. When he is freed at long last, his newly-found fortune inspires conceit and condescension rather than inspiration for the greater good. His daughter Fanny was already snobbish before the family fortunes changed, and son Edward is idle and feckless regardless of his financial position.

Only Little Dorrit – Amy – who was born in the debtors’ prison, remains her kindhearted self throughout.

Perhaps if I had offered a Little Dorrit action figure instead of the one of Mr. Dickens (complete with removable pen and hat!), it might have sold during the holiday season. I’m a firm believer though, that Dickens is the gift that keeps on giving!

The Season.

Someone confessed to me this morning that they knew well the story of A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens – but in fact, had never read it. The admission made me realize that nearly everyone surrounded by Western Culture would have been exposed to the tale since the earliest days of their childhood. Book-lover that I am, even I will admit that it is tougher to commit to reading a book when the outcome is already known, much less a story that can almost be recited from memory without ever having the book in hand.

In fact, A Christmas Carol is hardly a book, it is so short in length. It was one of Mr. Dickens holiday gifts to his readers, those who subscribed to the several newspapers he owned and edited during his lifetime. He published a number of seasonal stories, of which A Christmas Carol is the best known. Generally, the short-in-length Christmas tales are gathered together and published in a single volume.

Books that I have re-read over the years are very select, but I’ve gone back to dip into the Dickens’ well numerous times. It may be because he has so many characters in most of his books that it is easy to be re-introduced to them. Even those that might eventually become forgettable are distinctive as presented by Charles Dickens. I re-read A Christmas Carol last week, and enjoyed it just as much as the first go-through.

Most of the television, stage, and film versions that I’ve seen are faithful to the original. In all likelihood, it must be difficult to wander too far off the Dickens path where the story is concerned. It is told in very concise language, with little of the wandering that he allowed himself in his longer works.

Because of the brevity of the writing, each word carries a lot of power and significance. When I reached the part describing Mr. Scrooge’s discovery that he had completed his ghostly travels in a single night, I allowed myself to backtrack and re-read the passage, thoroughly enjoying the description of the old miser throwing open the windows on his first new glimpse of Christmas morning:

“Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. No fog, no mist; clear, bright jovial, stirring, cold; cold, piping for the blood to dance to; Golden sunlight; Heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious! Glorious!”

Reading the lines, I could almost feel the crisp, chill air on my own face.

Charles Dickens wrote the tale 169 years ago this Christmas, and it has been credited by some as changing the holiday itself from one of somberness and sobriety as it was observed in his day, to one of festivities and merriment with family and acquaintances as it is still proposed, for the most part.

It may be more difficult than ever to keep the sentiment of the Cratchit family in the face of the seemingly relentless and increasing-in-number Ebenezer Scrooges of our day.

And this is where all the modern-time scribes revert to Dickens to close out the article, essay, or blog, during the Christmas season:

“And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!”

Last gas(p).

The nozzle on the gas pump is supposed to click off when the tank is full. That’s so you don’t just keep pumping until the fuel starts spewing back out at’cha. (That’s also why there is a big black rubber stopper-looking-thing on the nozzle. To protect people from the spewing gasoline, after they kept pumping into a full tank.)

Here’s the thing. Sometimes the super-magic sensor that makes the nozzle shut off doesn’t work exactly right. Sometimes, it snaps off and you are standing there with the suddenly silent nozzle in your hand thinking:

Wow! This big V-8 engine cruiser is getting some great mileage. Only took $18 to fill it up!

The van hasn’t had a working fuel gauge in years. The way to tell the tank is full is to stand at the pump, nozzle in hand, and keeping filling until it stops. Then, during subsequent drives, it is imperative to keep in mind the approximate number of days or miles since that last fillup. In other words – it’s a shot in the dark thing.

Oops.

That $18 fillup the other day, wasn’t. I’m guessing the nozzle just quit because it wanted to play a little game with me, and I fell for it.

The engine died twice on the drive to the shop this morning. Thankfully, the van is also forgiving in that area. It allows you to restart twice and continue an indeterminate distance after each stop, before the final, nonnegotiable gasp for fuel leaves you stranded. It was my good fortune that – right after the van died in the intersection of Kenosha and Elm (I mean, right in the middle of the intersection!) – I was able to restart and pull into the QT.

There, I pumped more than $50 into the tank before the nozzle snapped off the flow.

It wasn’t the super-magic sensor that stopped the pump this time.

It was my wallet.

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