A Tale of Two Cities

I, shockingly, loved reading A Tale of Two Cities. When I finished it, my heart was racing, I declared it was the best book I ever read, and I actually started a list of possible essay topics. Nerdy I know. No, I didn't write the essay. But you know a book is powerful when it makes you want to write an essay, yeah?

But as far as giving an adequate blog description here, I've been waiting for inspiration to strike. That was two months ago, and I'm still waiting. I figure better late then never, and better inadequate then altogether absent. So here's what I've got:

I say shockingly because I formerly thought it was the most boring book on the planet. You see, I "read" it in high school. The only thing I remembered about it was a page long description of a door and that someone dies at the end. I didn't even remember what two cities Dickens was talking about. (How embarrassing.) I realize in retrospect that I was lost in the first few pages, decided then I didn't like the book, so skimmed the rest of it. And my teacher unfortunately didn't help. He taught us to memorize facts he stated: Soho = utopia; footsteps = foreshadowing. Does that help someone love a book? No.

So when I scoffed at when my husband Ben told me it was perhaps his favorite book he made me vow to read it. So we actually started reading it together outloud. He explained a few key points in the beginning and clued me in on the characters to remember. Armed with those facts, I found I couldn't put it down.

Though long-winded, Dickens' style is unmatched in showing the reader. A textbook could summarize the French Revolution with "the peasants were poor and hungry because the upperclass had all the money so the peasants revolted." But Dickens makes you feel starving, he makes you feel dirty and desperate. Then his description of the marquis having his 4 chocolate attendants and later unapologetically running over a child in his coach makes you hate him and everyone like him. But then the revenge is so ugly and heartless you realize how black the French Revolution was.

One line in-particular keeps haunting me. After the peasants riot and accomplish the most savage kind of murders, they return to their children at home, "wailing and breadless". These people killed for self-appointed justice. Was their situation helped? No, they returned to the same hunger, the same problems, to the same poor children, but now with blood on their hands; now not the same pitiful parents, but merciless butchers. In my mind they killed all love within them that their children needed when they put down their babies and went marching to the death drums. Chilling. In contemplating these things I said a small silent prayer that my heart would be guarded against marching away from my children for any kind of self-fulfillment not in their best interest.

Then, of course, there is such good in many characters too! I just love Mr. Lorry, Dr. Manette, Lucie, Charles Darney, Sydney Carton and Miss Pross. I even kind of like Jerry Cruncher by the end. I love their individuality. I love their courage and loyalty and hope. And then the way Dickens' weaves everyone's story together is truly incredible. And all with gorgeous language and striking analogies.

It made me consider how I treat others; others I like and others I don't. It made me consider what sacrifices I'm willing to make. It made me thankful for the peace and freedom I enjoy. It made me contemplate the current problems of wealth and poverty. It made me want to be generous and kinder. It made me want to know history and current events and be a more active citizen. It really changed me I think. It is truly a great work.

If you've never read it or never appreciated it, I recommend trying it. Maybe with Sparknotes for the first few chapters. (And maybe not outloud, as the violence is hard enough to stomach while reading silently.) I only wish I could hold some kind of virtual book club to discuss it with you!