I kid you not.
I give you: A Tale of Two Cities FAN FICTION!!!
I kid you not.
I give you: A Tale of Two Cities FAN FICTION!!!
30 September 2008 in The Big Read III: A Tale of Two Cities | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBack (0)
Chapter Thirteen: Fifty-Two
In which Darnay and Carton meet for the last time.
Before long, the consideration that there was no disgrace in the fate he must meet, and that numbers went the same road wrongfully, and trod it firmly every day, sprang up to stimulate him. Next the dear ones, depended on his quiet fortitude. So, by degrees he calmed into the better state, when he could raise his thoughts much higher, and draw comfort down.
The bit about 'quiet fortitude' reminded me of the end of Angels with Dirty Faces, except, of course, reversed. (Because Jimmy Cagney went to his execution screaming so that he wouldn't be a hero to the kids. What? You haven't seen it? REALLY?)
As the patient eyes were lifted to his face, he saw a sudden doubt in them, and then astonishment. he pressed the work-worn, hunger-worn young fingers, and touched his lips.
"Are you dying for him?" she whispered.
"And his wife and child. Hush! Yes."
"O you will let me hold your brave hand, stranger?"
"Hush! Yes, my poor sister; to the last."
Chapter Fourteen: The Knitting Done
In which we enjoy The Showdown to End All Showdowns.
"She has a fine head for it," croaked Jacques Three. "I have seen blue eyes and golden hair there, and they looked charming when Samson held them up." Ogre that he was, he spoke like an epicure.
"First," said Mr. Cruncher, who was all in a tremble, and who spoke with an ashy and solemn visage, "them poor things well out o' this, never no more will I do it, never no more!"
"I am quite sure, Mr. Cruncher," returned Miss Pross, 'that you never will do it again, whatever it is, and I beg you not to think it necessary to mention more particularly what it is."
Oh, I love them both.
Chapter Fifteen: The Footsteps Die Out for Ever
In which I took no notes because I was too busy sobbing.
"I see Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, The Vengeance, the Juryman, the Judge, long ranks of the new oppressors who have risen on the destruction of the old, perishing by this retributive instrument, before it shall cease out of its present use. I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long years to come, I see the evil of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, gradually making expiation for itself and wearing out.
"I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy, in that England which I shall see no more. I see Her with a child upon her bosom, who bears my name. I see her father, aged and bent, but otherwise restored, and faithful to all men in his healing office, and at peace. I see the good old man, so long their friend, in ten years' time enriching them with all he has, and passing tranquilly to his reward.
"I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. I see her, an old woman, weeping for me on the anniversary of this day. I see her and her husband, their course done, lying side by side in their last earthly bed, and I know that each was not more honoured and held sacred in the other's soul, than I was in the souls of both.
"I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a man winning his way up in that path of life which once was mine. I see him winning it so well, that my name is made illustrious there by the light of his. I see the blots I threw upon it, faded away. I see him, fore-most of just judges and honoured men, bringing a boy of my name, with a forehead that I know and golden hair, to this place-- then fair to look upon, with not a trace of this day's disfigurement --and I hear him tell the child my story, with a tender and a faltering voice.
"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."
_____________________________________________
Previously:
The Reading Schedule
Book the First, Chapters 1-3
Book the First, Chapters 4-6
Book the Second, Chapters 1-5
Book the Second, Chapters 6-9
Book the Second, Chapters 10-12
Book the Second, Chapters 13-16
Book the Second, Chapters 17-20
Book the Second, Chapters 21-24
Book the Third, Chapters 1-4
Book the Third, Chapters 5-8
Book the Third, Chapters 9-12
_____________________________________________
Other reader/bloggers:
_____________________________________________
Free copies of A Tale of Two Cities are available at Project Gutenberg and Librivox.
29 September 2008 in The Big Read III: A Tale of Two Cities | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBack (0)
Chapter Nine: The Game Made
In which Mr. Lorry sees Sydney's good side, Sydney goes for a midnight ramble and Darnay's second trial begins.
...Mr. Lorry looked at Jerry in considerable doubt and mistrust. That honest tradesman's manner of receiving the look, did not inspire confidence; he changed the leg on which he rested, as often as if he had fifty of those limbs, and were trying them all; he examined his finger-nails with a very questionable closeness of attention; and whenever Mr. Lorry's eye caught his, he was taken with that peculiar kind of short cough requiring the hollow of his hand before it, which is seldom, if ever, known to be an infirmity attendant on perfect openness of character.
I'm glad to know that pretending to inspect one's fingernails goes back so far. I find that hilarious for some reason.
"You are a good man and a true friend," said Carton, in an altered voice. "Forgive me if I notice that you are affected. I could not see my father weep, and sit by, careless. And I could not respect your sorrow more, if you were my father. You are free from that misfortune, however."
Though he said the last words, with a slip into his usual manner, there was a true feeling and respect both in his tone and in his touch, that Mr. Lorry, who had never seen the better side of him, was wholly unprepared for.
It was not a reckless manner, the manner in which he said these words aloud under the fast-sailing clouds, nor was it more expressive of negligence than defiance. It was the settled manner of a tired man, who had wandered and struggled and got lost, but who at length struck into his road and saw its end.
Chapter Ten: The Substance of the Shadow
In which we finally find out why Doctor Manette was imprisoned.
Chapter Eleven: Dusk
In which Lucie faints like a champ.
"No, no! What have you done, what have you done, that you should kneel to us! We know now, what a struggle you made of old. We know now, what you underwent when you suspected my descent, and when you knew it. We know now, the natural antipathy you strove against, and conquered, for her dear sake. We thank you with all out hearts, and all out love and duty! Heaven be with you!"
"Oh, Carton, Carton, dear Carton!" cried little Lucie, springing up and throwing her arms passionately round him, in a burst of grief. "Now that you have come, I think you will do something to help mamma, something to save papa! O, look at her, dear Carton! Can you, of all the people who love her, bear to see her so?"
Straight out of Days. I swear.
Chapter Twelve: Darkness
In which we learn that Madame Defarge is in this for more than her ideals.
"It is true what madame says," observed Jacques Three. "Why stop? There is great force in that. Why stop?"
"Well, well," reasoned Defarge, "but one must stop somewhere. After all, the question is still where?"
"At extermination," said madame.
_____________________________________________
Previously:
The Reading Schedule
Book the First, Chapters 1-3
Book the First, Chapters 4-6
Book the Second, Chapters 1-5
Book the Second, Chapters 6-9
Book the Second, Chapters 10-12
Book the Second, Chapters 13-16
Book the Second, Chapters 17-20
Book the Second, Chapters 21-24
Book the Third, Chapters 1-4
Book the Third, Chapters 5-8
_____________________________________________
Other reader/bloggers:
_____________________________________________
Free copies of A Tale of Two Cities are available at Project Gutenberg and Librivox.
26 September 2008 in The Big Read III: A Tale of Two Cities | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBack (0)
Chapter Five: The Wood-Sawyer
In which Lucie manages to keep herself very busy AND YET, stand around a whole lot.
Chapter Six: Triumph
In which Darnay's trial goes very well.
Chapter Seven: A Knock at the Door
In which I TOLD YOU SO!!
Chapter Eight: A Hand at Cards
In which also sorts of awesomeness happens.
_____________________________________________
Previously:
The Reading Schedule
Book the First, Chapters 1-3
Book the First, Chapters 4-6
Book the Second, Chapters 1-5
Book the Second, Chapters 6-9
Book the Second, Chapters 10-12
Book the Second, Chapters 13-16
Book the Second, Chapters 17-20
Book the Second, Chapters 21-24
Book the Third, Chapters 1-4
_____________________________________________
Other reader/bloggers:
_____________________________________________
Free copies of A Tale of Two Cities are available at Project Gutenberg and Librivox.
24 September 2008 in The Big Read III: A Tale of Two Cities | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBack (0)
Chapter One: In Secret
In which Darnay arrives in Paris and the inevitable happens.
Every town-gate and village taxing-house had its band of citizen patriots, with their national muskets in a most explosive state of readiness, who stopped all comers and goers, cross-questioned them, inspected their papers, looked for their names in lists of their own, turned them back, or sent them on, or stopped them and laid them in hold, as their capricious judgment or fancy deemed best for the dawning Republic One and indivisible, of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death.
The universal watchfulness so encompassed him, that if he had been taken in a net, or were being forwarded to his destination in a cage, he would not have felt his freedom more completely gone.
"Everybody says it [the decree] is but one of several, and that there will be others--if there are not already--banishing all emigrants, and condemning all to death who return. That is what he meant when he said your life was not your own."
"But there are no such decrees yet?"
"What do I know!" said the postmaster, shrugging his shoulders; "there may be, or there will be. It is all the same. What would you have?"
That he had fallen among far greater dangers than those which had developed themselves when he left England, he of course knew now. That perils had thickened about him fast, and might thicken faster and faster yet, he of course knew now. He could not but admit to himself that he might not have made this journey, if he could have foreseen the events of a few days. And yet his misgivings were not so dark as, imagined by the light of this later time, they would appear. Troubled as the future was, it was the unknown future, and in its obscurity there was ignorant hope. The horrible massacre, days and nights long, which, within a few rounds of the clock, was to set a great mark of blood upon the blessed garnering time of harvest, was as far out of his knowledge as if it had been a hundred thousand years away. The "sharp female newly-born, and called La Guillotine," was hardly known to him, or to the generality of people, by name. The frightful deeds that were to be soon done, were probably unimagined at that time in the brains of the doers. How could they have a place in the shadowy conceptions of a gentle mind?
And now I feel all guilty for being so hard on him.
So strangely clouded were these refinements by the prison manners and gloom, so spectral did they become in the inappropriate squalor and misery through which they were seen, that Charles Darnay seemed to stand in company of the dead. Ghosts all! The ghost of beauty, the ghost of stateliness, the ghost of elegance, the ghost of pride, the ghost of frivolity, the ghost of wit, the ghost of youth, the ghost of age, all waiting their dismissal from the desolate shore, all turning on him eyes that were changed by the death they had died in coming there.
Chapter Two: The Grindstone
In which it occurred to me that Dickens could have easily written vampire novels.
Chapter Three: The Shadow
In which Madame Defarge is SCARY SCARY SCARY SCARY SCARY.
It was a passionate, loving, thankful, womanly action, but the hand made no response--dropped cold and heavy, and took to its knitting again.
There was something in its touch that gave Lucie a check. She stopped in the act of putting the note in her bosom, and with her hands yet at her neck, looked terrified at Madame Defarge. Madame Defarge met the lifted eyebrows and forehead with a cold, impassive stare.
Chapter Four: Calm in Storm
In which over a year passes, and Darnay remains in prison.
_____________________________________________
Previously:
The Reading Schedule
Book the First, Chapters 1-3
Book the First, Chapters 4-6
Book the Second, Chapters 1-5
Book the Second, Chapters 6-9
Book the Second, Chapters 10-12
Book the Second, Chapters 13-16
Book the Second, Chapters 17-20
Book the Second, Chapters 21-24
_____________________________________________
Other reader/bloggers:
_____________________________________________
Free copies of A Tale of Two Cities are available at Project Gutenberg and Librivox.
22 September 2008 in The Big Read III: A Tale of Two Cities | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBack (0)
Chapter Twenty-One: Echoing Footsteps
In which six years pass and the people storm the crap out of the Bastille.
At first, there were times, though she was a perfectly happy young wife, when her work would slowly fall from her hands, and her eyes would be dimmed. For, there was something coming in the echoes, something light, afar off, and scarcely audible yet, that stirred her heart too much. Fluttering hopes and doubts--hopes, of a love as yet unknown to her; doubts, of her remaining upon earth, to enjoy that new delight--divided her breast. Among the echoes then, there would arise the sound of footsteps at her own early grave; and thoughts of the husband who would be left so desolate, and who would mourn for her so much, swelled to her eyes, and broke like waves.
*Whispering*: Is this about pregnancy and childbirth? I'm feeling really dumb right now. Okaythanksbye.
"I know that, to be sure," assented Mr. Lorry, trying to persuade himself that his sweet temper was soured, and that he grumbled, "but I am determined to be peevish after my long day's botheration."
Who gave them out, whence they last came, where they began, through what agency they crookedly quivered and jerked, scores at a time, over the heads of the crowd, like a kind of lightning, no eye in the throng could have told; but, muskets were being distributed--so were cartridges, powder and ball, bars of iron and wood, knives, axes, pikes, every weapon that distracted ingenuity could discover or devise. People who could lay hold of nothing else, set themselves with bleeding hands to force stones and bricks out of their places in walls. Every pulse and heart in Saint Antoine was on high-fever strain and at high fever heat. Every living creature there held life as of no account, and was demented with a passionate readiness to sacrifice it.
PHEW. At the wine-shop, Defarge is giving out weapons and orders, and Madame Defarge has put down her knitting:
Madame's resolute right hand was occupied with an axe, in place of the usual soft implements, and in her girdle were a pistol and a cruel knife.
This whole section, the storming of the Bastille, kept me completely entranced (even though we had company over (Jane calls him 'The Loud Man' -- yes, our dog talks)) not just because of the action, but also because of the rhythm. I felt like my pulse changed pace, even. Basically, it was awesome. This morning:
Me: So they stormed the hell out of the Bastille last night.
Josh: Uh huh.
Me: And THEN, they caught the governor of the Bastille and Madame Defarge put her foot on his neck and CHOPPED OFF HIS HEAD. And she DIDN'T EVEN USE HER AXE. She, like, SAWED HIS HEAD OFF WITH HER KNIFE. Is it wrong that I think she's kind of awesome?
Josh: (looking as nervous as he can without his morning coffee) Jesus.
Chapter Twenty-Two: The Sea Still Rises
In which this says it all: "The men were terrible, in the bloody-minded anger with which they looked from windows, caught up what arms they had, and came pouring down into the streets; but, the women were a sight to chill the boldest."
Instantly Madame Defarge's knife was in her girdle; the drum was beating in the streets, as if it and a drummer had flown together by magic; and The Vengeance, uttering terrific shrieks, and flinging her arms about her head like all the forty Furies at once, was tearing from house to house, rousing the women.
What would Miss Manette have been like if she hadn't been brought up in England? And Miss Pross?
Nor was this the end of the day's bad work, for Saint Antoine so shouted and danced his angry blood up, that it boiled again, on hearing when the day closed in that the son-in-law of the despatched, another of the people's enemies and insulters, was coming into Paris under a guard five hundred strong, in cavalry alone. Saint Antoine wrote his crimes on flaring sheets of paper, seized him--would have torn him out of the breast of an army to bear Foulon company--set his head and heart on pikes, and carried the three spoils of the day, in Wolf-procession through the streets.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Fire Rises
In which the dead Marquis' chateau (which I assume technically belongs to Mr. Darnay now, yes?) is torched.
The prison on the crag was not so dominant as of yore; there were soldiers to guard it, but not many; there were officers to guard the soldiers, but not one of them knew what his men would do--beyond this: that it would probably not be what he was ordered.
The tocsin rang impatiently, but other help (if there were any) there was none. The mender of roads, and two hundred and fifty particular friends, stood with folded arms at the fountain, looking a the pillar of fire in the sky. "It must be forty feet high," said they, grimly; and never moved.
The result of that conference was, that Gabelle again withdrew himself to his housetop behind his stack of chimneys; this time resolved, if his door were broken in (he was a small Southern man of retaliative temperament), to pitch himself head foremost over the parapet, and crush a man or two below.
Why would something like that make me like someone? I'm a horrible person.
Chapter Twenty-Four: Drawn to the Loadstone Rock
In which Mr. Stryver is a complete jerk (shocking!) and Mr. Darnay receives a letter.
_____________________________________________
Previously:
The Reading Schedule
Book the First, Chapters 1-3
Book the First, Chapters 4-6
Book the Second, Chapters 1-5
Book the Second, Chapters 6-9
Book the Second, Chapters 10-12
Book the Second, Chapters 13-16
Book the Second, Chapters 17-20
_____________________________________________
Other reader/bloggers:
TadMack @ Finding Wonderland
Heidi @ Adventures in Multiplicity
_____________________________________________
Free copies of A Tale of Two Cities are available at Project Gutenberg and Librivox.
19 September 2008 in The Big Read III: A Tale of Two Cities | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBack (0)
Chapter Seventeen: One Night
In which Doctor Manette talks about The Past.
"I have looked at her, speculating thousands of times upon the unborn child from whom I had been rent. Whether it was still alive. Whether it had been born alive, or the poor mother's shock had killed it. Whether it was a son who would some day avenge his father. (There was a time in my imprisonment, when my desire for revenge was unbearable.) Whether it was a son who would never know his father's story; who might even live to weigh the possibility of his father's having disappeared of his own will and act. Whether it was a daughter who would grow up to be a woman."
That was it? All that time to imagine possibilities for his unborn, unknown child and that was the only option he came up with for the female. Nice, Doctor Manette. Reeeeeeally nice.
Chapter Eighteen: Nine Days
In which there is a wedding and a relapse.
"Really? Well; but don't cry," said the gentle Mr. Lorry.
"I am not crying," said Miss Pross; "you are."
"I, my Pross?" (By this time, Mr. Lorry dared to be pleasant with her, on occasion.)"My Pross"! See, there's hope. What, by the way, is Charles Darnay up to? Where's he at?
"You think there never might have been a Mrs. Lorry?" asked the gentleman of that name.
"Pooh!" rejoined Miss Pross; "you were a bachelor in your cradle."
"Well!" observed Mr. Lorry, beamingly adjusting his little wig, "that seems probable, too."
"And you were cut out for a bachelor," pursued Miss Pross, "before you were put in your cradle."
"Then, I think," said Mr. Lorry, "that I was very unhandsomely dealt with, and that I ought to have had a voice in the selection of my pattern."
Chapter Nineteen: An Opinion
In which I decide I am totally head-over-heels in love with Mr. Lorry.
Even when he had satisfied himself that he was awake, Mr. Lorry felt giddily uncertain for some few moments whether the late shoemaking might not be a disturbed dream of his own...it was but the inquiry of his first confusion and astonishment, the answer being obvious. If the impression were not produced by a real corresponding and sufficient cause, how came he, Jarvis Lorry, there?
I heart him. On the next page, Mr. Lorry bathes and whatnot, and then shows up for breakfast "in his usual white linen, and with his usual neat leg". I love how he tries so hard to look imperturbable. And I love that he's vain about his legs.
So wicked do destruction and secrecy appear to honest minds, that Mr. Lorry and Miss Pross, while engaged in the commission of their deed and in the removal of its traces, almost felt, and almost looked, like accomplices in a horrible crime.
Chapter Twenty: A Plea
In which I decide that Miss Manette is so lame that Charles Dickens himself couldn't have really liked her.
"Mr. Darnay," said Carton, "I wish we might be friends."
_____________________________________________
Previously:
The Reading Schedule
Book the First, Chapters 1-3
Book the First, Chapters 4-6
Book the Second, Chapters 1-5
Book the Second, Chapters 6-9
Book the Second, Chapters 10-12
Book the Second, Chapters 13-16
_____________________________________________
Other reader/bloggers:
_____________________________________________
Free copies of A Tale of Two Cities are available at Project Gutenberg and Librivox.
17 September 2008 in The Big Read III: A Tale of Two Cities | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)
Chapter Thirteen: The Fellow of No Delicacy
In which Sydney Carton bares his soul to Miss Manette.
If Sydney Carton ever shone anywhere, he certainly never shone in the house of Doctor Manette.
Judging by the chapter titles, I suspect that what goes on in this chapter will mirror what went on in chapter twelve. But knowing what little I know about Sydney Carton, I anticipate much more drama and much more angst.
"Since I knew you, I have been troubled by a remorse that I thought would never reproach me again, and have heard whispers from old voices impelling me upward, that I thought were silent for ever. I have had unformed ideas of striving afresh, beginning anew, shaking off sloth and sensuality, and fighting out the abandoned fight. A dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where he lay down, but I wish you to know that you inspired it."
She's one of those girls who says, "O", for crying out loud! Then again, so did the damsels in distress in silent films, and they were pretty adorably irresistible...
"For you, and for any dear to you, I would do anything. If my career were of that better kind that there was any opportunity or capacity of sacrifice in it, I would embrace any sacrifice for you and for those dear to you."
I give her credit for not freaking out halfway through the conversation and leaving the room to get away from him -- to have that much unhappy passion directed at you would be more than a little scary.
Chapter Fourteen: The Honest Tradesman
In which we learn a whole lot more about Jerry Cruncher.
Time was, when a poet sat upon a stool in a public place, and mused in the sight of men. Mr. Cruncher, sitting on a stool in a public place, but not being a poet, mused as little as possible, and looked about him.
Hee.
Thus, with beer-drinking, pipe-smoking, song-roaring, and infinite caricaturing of woe, the disorderly procession went its way, recruiting at every step, and all the shops shutting up before it. Its destination was the old church of Saint Pancras, far off in the fields. It got there in course of time; insisted on pouring into the burial-ground; finally, accomplished the interment of the deceased Roget Cly in its own way, and highly to its own satisfaction.
"I'm a going--as your mother knows--a fishing. That's where I'm going to. Going a fishing."
"Your fishing-rod gets rayther rusty; don't it, father?"
The devoutest person could have rendered no greater homage to the efficacy of an honest prayer than he did in this distrust of his wife. It was as if a professed unbeliever in ghosts should be frightened by a ghost story.
Towards that small and ghostly hour, he rose up from his chair, took a key out of his pocket, opened a locked cupboard, and brought forth a sack, a crowbar of convenient size, a rope and chain, and other fishing tackle of that nature.
Chapter Fifteen: Knitting
In which we hear about the capture of the man who killed the Marquis.
Out of the wine-shop into the street, out of the street into a court-yard, out of the court-yard up a steep staircase, out of the staircase into a garret--formerly the garret where a white-haired man sat on a low bench, stooping forward and very busy, making shoes.
No white-haired man was there now; but, the three men were there who had gone out of the wine-whop singly. And between them and the white-haired man afar off, was the one small link, that they had once looked in at him through the chinks in the wall.
I get the distinct feeling that things are really going to start Coming Together. And also Happening.
"Jacques," returned Defarge, drawing himself up, "if madame my wife undertook to keep the register in her memory alone, she would not lose a word of it--not a syllable of it. Knitted, in her own stitches and her own symbols, it will always be as plain to her as the sun. Confide in Madame Defarge. It would be easier for the weakest poltroon that lives, to erase himself from existence, than to erase one letter of his mane or crimes from the knitted register of Madame Defarge."
Well. She and her knitting are just AWESOME. She's a little scary, too, though. For that matter, it's all a little scary. More than a little.
Chapter Sixteen: Still Knitting
In which a spy is no match for Madame Defarge.
Their decease made no impression on the other flies out promenading, who looked at them in the coolest manner (as if they themselves were elephants, or something as far removed), until they met the same fate. Curious to consider who heedless flies are!--perhaps they thought as much at Court that sunny summer day.
"But it is very strange--now, at least, is it not very strange"--said Defarge, rather pleading with his wife to induce her to admit it, "that, after all our sympathy for Monsieur her father, and herself, her husband's name should be proscribed under your hand at this moment, by the side of that infernal dog's who just left us?"
_____________________________________________
*A guy in college once said to me (I swear I am not making this up) that he had "lived beyond his years". It was not a line that worked.
**It made me think of Claudius' description of Caligula merrily shoving people into the ocean.
_____________________________________________
Previously:
The Reading Schedule
Book the First, Chapters 1-3
Book the First, Chapters 4-6
Book the Second, Chapters 1-5
Book the Second, Chapters 6-9
Book the Second, Chapters 10-12
_____________________________________________
Other reader/bloggers:
TadMack at Finding Wonderland
Heidi at Adventures in Multiplicity
_____________________________________________
Free copies of A Tale of Two Cities are available at Project Gutenberg and Librivox.
15 September 2008 in The Big Read III: A Tale of Two Cities | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Chapter Ten: Two Promises
In which Darnay Has A Talk with Doctor Manette about his feelings for Lucie.
...the assassination at the deserted chateau far away beyond the heaving water, and the long, long dusty roads--the solid stone chateau which had itself become the mere mist of a dream--had been done a year...
Really makes it sound as if he did it. Is Mr. Charles Darnay actually a killer? Could his soppy nature all be an act? Could he secretly be a vigilante? Oh, PUH-LEASE let it be so!
"I understand equally well, that a word from her father in any suitor's favour, would outweigh herself and all the world. For which reason, Doctor Manette," said Darnay, modestly but firmly, "I would not ask that word to save my life."
I really should like him more.
Chapter Eleven: A Companion Picture
In which Sydney starts out wasted and then proceeds to get wasted-er.
"Sydney, I rather despair of making myself intelligible to you, because you are such an insensible dog."
"And you," returned Sydney, busy concocting the punch, "are such a sensitive and poetical spirit."
Oh, hell. I know where this is going. I realize that a lot may have happened over the past year, but does Stryver really think he has a chance with She-Of-The-Perfect-Forehead? Really?
Sydney Carton drank the punch at a great rate; drank it by bumpers, looking at his friend.
"Now you know all about it, Syd," said Mr. Stryver. "I don't care about fortune: she is a charming creature, and I have made up my mind to please myself: on the whole, I think I can afford to please myself. She will have in me a man already pretty well off, and a rapidly rising man, and a man of some distinction: it is a piece of good fortune for her, but she is worthy of good fortune. Are you astonished?"
Carton, still drinking the punch, rejoined, "Why should I be astonished?"
"You approve?"
Carton, still drinking the punch, rejoined, "Why should I not approve?"
Chapter Twelve: The Fellow of Delicacy
In which Stryver is an ass.
Mr. Stryver having made up his mind to that magnanimous bestowal of good fortune on the Doctor's daughter, resolved to make her happiness known to her before he left town for the Long Vacation. After some mental debating of the point, he came to the conclusion that it would be as well to get all the preliminaries done with, and they could then arrange at their leisure whether he should give her his hand a week or two before Michaelmas Term, or in the little Christmas vacation between in and Hilary.
He's just as bad (if not almost worse) than Mr. Collins. If Lucie hits him with a parasol, I will never mock her again, I SWEAR.
____________________________________________
*Oh, God. I blame the boys for that.
____________________________________________
Previously:
The Reading Schedule
Book the First, Chapters 1-3
Book the First, Chapters 4-6
Book the Second, Chapters 1-5
Book the Second, Chapters 6-9
_____________________________________________
Other reader/bloggers:
TadMack @ Finding Wonderland
Heidi @ Adventures in Multiplicity
_____________________________________________
Free copies of A Tale of Two Cities are available at Project Gutenberg and Librivox.
12 September 2008 in The Big Read III: A Tale of Two Cities | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)
Chapter Six: Hundreds of People
In which we enjoy the return of Miss Pross, Queen of Awesome.
Although the Doctor's daughter had known nothing of the country of her birth, she appeared to have innately derived from it that ability to make much of little means, which is one of its most useful and most agreeable characteristics.
I suspect that cartoon birds braid her hair in the morning, too.*
"I don't want dozens of people who are not at all worthy of Ladybird, to come here looking after her," said Miss Pross.
"Do dozens come for that purpose?"
"Hundreds," said Miss Pross.
It was characteristic of this lady (as of some other people before her time and since) that whenever her original proposition was questioned, she exaggerated it.
Poor Mr. Jarvis Lorry. He's so totally out of his depth with her. "...Mr. Lorry shook his head; using that important part of himself as a sort of fairy cloak that would fit anything." Hee.
Chapter Seven: Monseigneur in Town
In which I got so caught up in the action that I didn't actually take any notes so I'm just going to throw some quotes up.
Deep would have been the blot upon his escutcheon if his chocolate had been ignobly waited on by only three men; he must have died of two.
Chapter Eight: Monseigneur in the Country
In which the Marquis continues to suck mightily.
The village had its one poor street, with its poor brewery, poor tannery, poor tavern, poor stable-yard for relays of post-horses, poor fountain, all usual poor appointments. It had its poor people too.
Chapter Nine: The Gorgon's Head
In which I used an impressive amount of self-restraint and didn't swear AT ALL in regards to the stupid and horrible Marquis.
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*Yes, I swiped that from Veronica Mars.
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Previously:
The Reading Schedule
Book the First, Chapters 1-3
Book the First, Chapters 4-6
Book the Second, Chapters 1-5
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Other readers/bloggers:
TadMack @ Finding Wonderland
Heidi @ Adventures in Multiplicity
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Free copies of A Tale of Two Cities are available at Project Gutenberg and Librivox.
10 September 2008 in The Big Read III: A Tale of Two Cities | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)
Book the Second, Chapter One: Five Years Later
In which a boot is thrown, a young boy is curious, and not much else happens.
This was no passive belief, but an active weapon which they flashed at more convenient places of business. Tellson's (they said) wanted no elbow-room, Tellson's wanted no light, Tellson's wanted no embellishment. Noakes and Co.'s might, or Snooks Brothers' might; but Tellson's, thanks Heaven!--
When they took a young man into Tellson's London house, they hid him somewhere till he was old. They kept him in a dark place, like a cheese, until he had the full Tellson flavour and blue-mould upon him.
It was a very muddy boot, and may introduce the odd circumstance connected with Mr. Cruncher's domestic economy. that, whereas he often came home after banking hours with clean boots, he often got up the next morning to find the same boots covered with clay.
Or, judging by the speech that follows the boot bit, he might just be bananas.
Book the Second, Chapter Two: A Sight
In which I learn that the precursor to razzle-dazzle was jingle and jangle.
Altogether, the Old Bailey, at that date, was a choice illustration of the precept that "Whatever is, is right"; an aphorism that would be as final as it is lazy, did it not include the troublesome consequence, that nothing that ever was, was wrong.
Book the Second, Chapter Three: A Disappointment
In which the chapter title totally gives away the verdict of the trial.
That, they never could lay their heads upon their pillows; that, they never could tolerate the idea of their wives laying their heads upon their pillows; that, they could never endure the notion of their children laying their heads upon their pillows; in short that there never more could be, for them or theirs, any laying of heads upon pillows at all, unless the prisoner's head was taken off.
Ever borrow money of the prisoner? Yes. Ever pay him? No.
I loved that paragraph.
He had never been suspected of stealing a silver teapot; he had been maligned respecting a mustard-pot, but it turned out to be only a plated one. He had known the last witness seven or eight years; that was merely a coincidence.
Book the Second, Chapter Four: Congratulatory
In which Carton and Darney go out do dinner and Carton gets wasted.
"As to me, the greatest desire I have, is to forget that I belong to it. It has no good in it for me--except wine like this--nor I for it. So we are not much alike in that particular. Indeed, I begin to think we are not much alike in any particular, you and I."
Book the Second, Chapter Five: The Jackal
In which we get much more of Sydney Carton and his tortured self.
Sadly, sadly, the sun rose; it rose upon no sadder sight than the man of good abilities and good emotions, incapable of their directed exercise, incapable of his own help and his own happiness, sensible of the blight on him, and resigning himself to let it eat him away.
Previously:
Book the First, Chapters 1-3
Book the First, Chapters 4-6
Other reader/bloggers:
TadMack @ Finding Wonderland
Adventures in Multiplicity
Free copies of A Tale of Two Cities are available at Project Gutenberg and Librivox.
08 September 2008 in The Big Read III: A Tale of Two Cities | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBack (0)
Chapter Four: The Preparation
In which Miss Manette is told that her father is still alive.
The Concord bedchamber being always assigned to a passenger by the mail, and passengers by the mail being always heavily wrapped up from head to foot, the room had the odd interest for the establishment of the Royal George, that although but what kind of man was seem to go into it, all kinds and varieties of men came out of it.
And then at least seven employees of the hotel (including the landlady) stand around and wait to see what Mr. Lorry looks like all cleaned up. Hee hee. Oh, and just for kicks I looked up sea-coal.
"If it was ever intended that I should go across salt water, do you suppose Providence would have cast my lot in an island?"
This being another question hard to answer, Mr. Jarvis Lorry withdrew to consider it.
Chapter Five: The Wine-Shop
In which we learn that life in Paris is less than awesome.
Those who had been greedy with the staves of the cask, had acquired a tigerish smear about the mouth; and one tall joker so besmirched, his head more out of a long squalid bag of a nightcap than in it, scrawled upon a wall with his fingers dipped in muddy wine-lees--BLOOD.
The time was to come, when that wine too would be spilled on the street-stones, and when the stain of it would be red upon many there.
Chapter Six: The Shoemaker
In which we meet Miss Manette's father, who is quite possibly a broken man.
Mr. Lorry had come silently forward. leaving the daughter by the door. When he had stood, for a minute or two, by the side of Defarge, the shoemaker looked up. He showed no surprise as seeing another figure, but the unsteady fingers of one of his hands strayed to his lips as he looked at it (his lips and his nails were of the same pale lead-colour), and then the hand dropped to his work, and he once more bent over the shoe. The look and the action had occupied but an instant.
"Did you ask me for my name?"
"Assuredly I did."
"One Hundred and Five, North Tower."
"Is that all?"
"One Hundred and Five, North Tower."
Madame Defarge immediately called to her husband that she would get them, and went, knitting, out of the lamplight, through the court-yard. She quickly brought them down and handed them in;--and immediately afterwards leaned against the door-post, knitting, and saw nothing.
Color me impressed.
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Other reader/bloggers:
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Free copies of A Tale of Two Cities are available at Project Gutenberg and Librivox.
05 September 2008 in The Big Read III: A Tale of Two Cities | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBack (0)
My Big Read post will go up after work today -- it was my day to post over at Guys Lit Wire today, so that messed with my timing this morning.
Never fear, though -- there will be more A Tale of Two Cities goodness! I will, I will, I will stick to my schedule! (Also, I really want to find out what this Recalled to Life business is all about!)
!!!
05 September 2008 in The Big Read III: A Tale of Two Cities | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)
Book the First, Chapter One: The Period
In which we get a broad overview of the times, and I discover that Chas. Dickens is actually pretty funny.
There were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a plain face, on the throne of England; there were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a fair face, on the throne of France. In both countries it was clearer than crystal to the lords of the State preserves of loaves and fishes, that things in general were settled forever.
Book the First, Chapter Two: The Mail
In which the action begins with a messenger almost getting himself shot.
There was a steaming mist in all the hollows, and it had roamed in its forlornness up the hill, like an evil spirit, seeking rest and finding none. A clammy and intensely cold mist, it made its slow way through the air in ripples that visibly followed and overspread one another, as the waves of an unwholesome sea might do.
"I know this messenger, guard," said Mr. Lorry, getting down into the road--assisted from behind more swiftly than politely by the other two passengers, who immediately scrambled into the coach, shut the door, and pulled up the window.
With those words the passenger opened the coach-door and got in; not at all assisted by his fellow-passengers, who had expeditiously secreted their watches and purses in their boots, and were now making a general pretence of being asleep. With no more definite purpose than to escape the hazard of originating any other kind of action.
I suppose I should be concentrating more on the Mysterious Message (Wait at Dover for Mam'selle) and Just As Mysterious Response (RECALLED TO LIFE), but... that'll all become clear soon enough. Hopefully.
"Did you hear the message?"
"I did, Joe."
"What did you make of it, Tom?"
"Nothing at all, Joe."
"That's a coincidence, too," the guard mused, "for I made the same of it myself."
Book the First, Chapter Three: The Night Shadows
In which the coach passenger sleeps lightly and has creepy dreams that I don't understand.
He was on his way to dig some one out of a grave.
I assume this is metaphorical, as the guy is supposed to have been buried alive for eighteen years. I also assume that everything in this chapter will be explained, and soon. I'm not just being dense, right? Right?
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Other reader/bloggers:
An introduction to The Big Read III at Finding Wonderland (TadMack)
Chapters 1-3 at Finding Wonderland
An introduction to The Big Read III at Finding Wonderland (a. fortis)
A bit more from a. fortis (second paragraph)
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Free copies of A Tale of Two Cities are available at Project Gutenberg and Librivox.
03 September 2008 in The Big Read III: A Tale of Two Cities | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBack (0)
September 3: Book the First, Chapters 1-3
September 5: Book the First, Chapters 4-6
September 8: Book the Second, Chapters 1-5
September 10: Book the Second, Chapters 6-9
September 12: Book the Second, Chapters 10-12
September 15: Book the Second, Chapters 13-16
September 17: Book the Second, Chapters 17-20
September 19: Book the Second, Chapters 21-24
September 22: Book the Third, Chapters 1-4
September 24: Book the Third, Chapters 5-8
September 26: Book the Third, Chapters 9-12
September 29: Book the Third, Chapters 13-15
As with the other two Big Reads, this is the schedule I'll be following. What you decide to do is up to you! If you do post as you read, let me know in the comments and I'll link 'em all up. If you don't have a copy and it's checked out at your library, it's available for free at Project Gutenberg and there's a free audio version at Librivox.
02 September 2008 in The Big Read III: A Tale of Two Cities | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)
I'm going to take advantage of my current French Revolution mania and finally read A Tale of Two Cities. Anyone in? If so, I'm planning to start next Wednesday & I'll post a schedule shortly.
25 August 2008 in Books - Classics, Books - Historical Fiction, The Big Read III: A Tale of Two Cities | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBack (0)
