Am scoring double points for this ABC Wednesday as it will be the last ’Q’ post I can claim to be a Quinquagenarian. Ascribed to any person from fifty to fifty-nine years old but the quicksands of time are down to a few weeks quota of grains before the next decade.
It’s another ABC round of P topics plus a garden blogger’s poetry post for the premier muse day of the month…
Lost and Found
On this day 200 years ago a boy was born who would divine the age of Victorian England in such detail that his name would forever be enshrined in descriptions of the trivially convivial with the squalid and destitute of society.
‘Dickensian’ is a two-tone fiction, made flesh in caricatures which jump from the page in one-dimensional portraits of devilish delight and downright wickedness. In the Victorian melting pot of human mores, the characters muddle and huddle together in a criss-cross of tales for long evenings and cliff-hanger serialisation.
“Dombey sat in the corner of the darkened room in the great arm-chair by the bedside, and Son lay tucked up warm in a little basket bedstead, carefully disposed on a low settee immediately in front of the fire and close to it, as if his constitution were analogous to that of a muffin, and it was essential to toast him brown while he was very new.” 1 Read More…»