A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens *****

A close second to Great Expectations as my favorite Dickens novel, I thought I'd re-read this gem since it's been at least 14 years since I have previously.  A couple things struck me this time, one being the horrible conditions in France for the poor at the time of the revolution.  If you really consider it for a moment, how bad would it truly have to be for a people that had never known another system of government other than monarchy to decide that they didn't care what they got, they just couldn't stand living the way they were anymore.  I know that Dickens wrote with a bit of British bias about the French, especially since England was scared to death at the time that it's populace would rise up against King George also.  I'm sure the average English peasant wasn't treated that much better than the average French one, though. 

Another observation is that the horrible inequality of the haves & the have-nots can be deadly.  It's hard not to compare, just a little, to what is going on in the US right now with the rich getting so much richer while the people with the least are treated more harshly all the time.  The debate as to whether the rich should be taxed more becomes pretty moot when the "huddled masses" are angry & downtrodden.  One quote stuck with me:

Crush humanity out of shape once more, under similar hammers, and it will twist itself into the same tortured forms.  Sow the same seed of rapacious license and oppression over again, and it will surely yield the same fruit according to its kind.

No, I don't think we're on the verge of an anarchistic revolution.  But I do think that our politicians need to remember why a certain government benefit is called Social Security--it keeps our society secure. 

Great Expectations by Charles Dickens *****

One of the main reasons I love this book is just because of it's title.  It says it all.  Who among us hasn't had great expectations when we were younger of what our lives would be like?  We were going to be different.  Individuals, living how we wanted, not like our parents.  Not stuck in some small town or small mindset, but living large.  I was young enough when I first read Great Expectations to realize that's how I felt, but old enough to hear the nasty voice of doubt whispering in my ear. Since then I've come to realize that giving a child the gift of great expectations is actually a curse--they'll be like Sisyphus, pushing that boulder up the hill but having it crush them at the bottom in the end.
Pip grows up in the country being brought up "by hand" by his shrewish older sister & her gentle husband.  Joe, Pip's brother-in-law, is actually Pip's greatest childhood friend.  Joe is a simple & ignorant blacksmith, but his kindness & care for others makes you realize how wise he actually is.  Joe & Pip simply live for the day that Pip will be apprenticed to Joe & then "what larks!" they will have together.  But a series of events that seem to be unrelated conspire to make Pip wish to be more than he ever thought he could be, & to then give him the means to that end.
Great Expectations is about the foolishness of youth & about growing up & leaving behind those that we love.  It's about the abandoning of the people that made you good in favor of those that you think will make you great.  And it's about the journey back home after being led far afield.
It's also a book about judgement.  I can't tell you how many times I've labeled people in my mind based on some small aspect of their character that I think I've had some sort of special insight into.  It's all rubbish.  The label always comes from within the labeler-- you see something of yourself you'd rather not like to admit to in someone else.  There are several quotes from this book that I like, but by far my favorite is one where Pip refers to his great friend Herbert:

We owed so much to Herbert's ever cheerful industry and readiness, that I often wondered how I had conceived that old idea of his inaptitude, until I was one day enlightened by the reflection, that perhaps the inaptitude had never been in him at all, but had been in me.

Thanks Mr. Dickens.