How do you feel that it took me about as long to read this as to read The Count of Monte Cristo, which is a good 1,000 pages longer?
I started it in the summer of 2007, when the Romgi and I were working at an alarm system company call center. Our days started at 6am and I had to have something to keep myself awake. As much as I enjoy Dickens, he was probably not the best choice for staying focused during those early hours. I made it through about 70 pages that summer, and left it on a shelf afterwards.
So when I read the last of the books I’d never tried reading before, I pulled Oliver Twist out again, to help take my mind off the gallbladder death-pains (another story) and contractions. When I’d gotten about halfway through, our neighbors invited us over to watch a movie with them; they’d rented Oliver Twist from the library, and I thought it would be fun to see. Unfortunately, the further we got in the movie, the more I was confused about the plot, because it didn’t seem to be the same story as the book (it wasn’t). Then I stopped reading the book for a while, since I learned to crochet and found that to be an excellent diversion.
Once the Bwun was born, I got Oliver Twist out yet again to keep me awake during the late night and early morning when I was feeding him…do you see the problem? Actually, it didn’t turn out to be a problem. Either I’ve developed a better attention span or I’ve realized that one can only watch 2 episodes of my favorite Korean drama before the dvd is over and I have to stand up to put in the next disc. Not easy with the Bwun.
Anyway, I did eventually finish, and while I think the book is far superior to the movie (at least the Disney version with Richard Dreyfus and Elijah Wood), there are just way too many coincidences in the plot to make it anywhere near believable. And to me, for some reason, being believable is important. I’m glad I read it, because it is a classic, and Dickens is a rather amusing author, but there’s no way anything like that would ever happen. EVER.