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In "The Puzzle of Dickens's Last Plot," Andrew Lang delves into the enigmatic final work of one of England's most celebrated novelists, Charles Dickens. Combining a narrative analysis with keen literary criticism, Lang meticulously examines the intricacies and unresolved threads woven throughout Dickens's unfinished manuscript, "The Mystery of Edwin Drood." Utilizing a rich tapestry of literary allusions and historical context, Lang situates Dickens within the Victorian literary landscape, illuminating the author's stylistic evolution while probing the cultural and psychological factors that may have influenced his final narrative choices. Andrew Lang, a renowned Scottish poet, novelist, and literary critic, possessed an intimate familiarity with Dickens's oeuvre, which undoubtedly informed his exploration of this complex text. His diverse academic background—spanning folklore, anthropology, and literary history—equipped him with the analytical tools necessary for deciphering the layers of meaning in Dickens's work. Lang's admiration for Dickens's artistry also renders this exploration a deeply personal endeavor, reflecting a scholar profoundly engaged with literary legacy and modern interpretation. For scholars, students, and avid readers alike, Lang's "The Puzzle of Dickens's Last Plot" serves as an indispensable guide to understanding the unresolved mysteries of Dickens's narrative ambitions. This thoughtful and analytical exploration provides fresh insights into the author's creative mind, making it a compelling read for anyone interested in Victorian literature or the intricacies of literary endings.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022
Forster tells us that Dickens, in his later novels, from Bleak House onwards (1853), “assiduously cultivated” construction, “this essential of his art.” Some critics may think, that since so many of the best novels in the world “have no outline, or, if they have an outline, it is a demned outline,” elaborate construction is not absolutely “essential.” Really essential are character, “atmosphere,” humour.
But as, in the natural changes of life, and under the strain of restless and unsatisfied activity, his old buoyancy and unequalled high spirits deserted Dickens, he certainly wrote no longer in what Scott, speaking of himself, calls the manner of “hab nab at a venture.” He constructed elaborate plots, rich in secrets and surprises. He emulated the manner of Wilkie Collins, or even of Gaboriau, while he combined with some of the elements of the detective novel, or roman policier, careful study of character. Except Great Expectations, none of his later tales rivals in merit his early picaresque stories of the road, such as Pickwick and Nicholas Nickleby. “Youth will be served;” no sedulous care could compensate for the exuberance of “the first sprightly runnings.” In the early books the melodrama of the plot, the secrets of Ralph Nickleby, of Monk, of Jonas Chuzzlewit, were the least of the innumerable attractions. But Dickens was more and more drawn towards the secret that excites curiosity, and to the game of hide and seek with the reader who tried to anticipate the solution of the secret.
In April, 1869, Dickens, outworn by the strain of his American readings; of that labour achieved under painful conditions of ominously bad health—found himself, as Sir Thomas Watson reported, “on the brink of an attack of paralysis of his left side, and possibly of apoplexy.” He therefore abandoned a new series of Readings. We think of Scott’s earlier seizures of a similar kind, after which Peveril, he said, “smacked of the apoplexy.” But Dickens’s new story of The Mystery of Edwin Drood, first contemplated in July, 1869, and altered in character by the emergence of “a very curious and new idea,” early in August, does not “smack of the apoplexy.” We may think that the mannerisms of Mr. Honeythunder, the philanthropist, and of Miss Twinkleton, the schoolmistress, are not in the author’s best vein of humour. “The Billickin,” on the other hand, the lodging-house keeper, is “in very gracious fooling:” her unlooked-for sallies in skirmishes with Miss Twinkleton are rich in mirthful surprises. Mr. Grewgious may be caricatured too much, but not out of reason; and Dickens, always good at boys, presents a gamin, in Deputy, who is in not unpleasant contrast with the pathetic Jo of Bleak House. Opinions may differ as to Edwin and Rosa, but the more closely one studies Edwin, the better one thinks of that character. As far as we are allowed to see Helena Landless, the restraint which she puts on her “tigerish blood” is admirable: she is very fresh and original. The villain is all that melodrama can desire, but what we do miss, I think, is the “atmosphere” of a small cathedral town. Here there is a lack of softness and delicacy of treatment: on the other hand, the opium den is studied from the life.