What the Dickens

If you had begun BLEAK HOUSE in March, 1852, when Dickens presented the world with its first four chapters, you would have had to wait 19 months to reach The End.

I thought of re-reading this wonderfully unbleak novel, whose contents had almost entirely faded from memory, in the proper installments, to get a feel for that sort of thing, but I concluded, not that life is too short, although it may well be, but that our sense of time has been so accelerated, what with the many advances in science & industry, that I might achieve the equivalent experience by devoting 19 days to the reading.

In the event, I stayed in bed with my book when I should have been up and about, and for a few days and nights I enjoyed myself thoroughly.

But, Dear Reader, I gave up after 256 pages. Not because I didn't like the book, but because I was gorged. It was too delicious a read. I couldn't eat another bite.

And, really, I was miffed, because I had thought I was the only one enchanted with the idea of The Growlery, the room the usually pleasant and generous Mr. Jarndyce repairs to when he is feeling out of humor.

But a google revealed that every blogger and her brother wants a room of their own for growling, when the need arises.

Oh, google it yourself.