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Description
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Classic from the year 2009 in the subject English Language and Literature Studies - Literature, , language: English, abstract: Our BoreIT is unnecessary to say that we keep a bore. Everybody does. But, the bore whom we have the pleasure and honour of enumerating among our particular friends, is such a generic bore, and has so many traits (as it appears to us) in common with the great bore family, that we are tempted to make him the subject of the present notes. May he be generally accepted![...]Our English Watering-PlaceIn the Autumn-time of the year, when the great metropolis is so much hotter, so much noisier, so much more dusty or so much more water-carted, so much more crowded, so much more disturbing and distracting in all respects, than it usually is, a quiet sea-beach becomes indeed a blessed spot.[...]Our French Watering-PlaceHaving earned, by many years of fidelity, the right to be sometimes inconstant to our English watering-place, we have dallied for two or three seasons with a French watering-place: once solely known to us as a town with a very long street, beginning with an abattoir and ending with a steam-boat, which it seemed our fate to behold only at daybreak on winter mornings, when (in the days before continental railroads), just sufficiently awake to know that we were most uncomfortably asleep, it was our destiny always to clatter through it, in the coupe of the diligence from Paris, with a sea of mud behind us, and a sea of tumbling waves before.[...]Our Honourable FriendWe are delighted to find that he has got in! Our honourable friend is triumphantly returned to serve in the next Parliament. He is the honourable member for Verbosity - the best represented place in England.[...]Our SchoolWe went to look at it, only this last Midsummer, and found that the Railway had cut it up root and branch. A great trunk-line had swallowed the playground, sliced away the schoolroom, and pared off the corner of the house: which, thus curtailed of its proportions, presented itself, in a green stage of stucco, profilewise towards the road, like a forlorn flat-iron without a handle, standing on end.[...]Our VestryWe have the glorious privilege of being always in hot water if we like. We are a shareholder in a Great Parochial British Joint Stock Bank of Balderdash. [...]Out of the SeasonIt fell to my lot, this last bleak Spring, to find myself in a watering-place out of the Season. A vicious north-east squall blew me into it from foreign parts, and I tarried in it alone for three days, resolved to be exceedingly busy.[...][...]
(Author portrait)
Charles Dickens (1812-1870), geboren in Landport bei Portsea, wuchs in Chatham bei London auf. Als er elf Jahre alt war, musste sein Vater wegen nicht eingelöster Schuldscheine ins Schuldgefängnis; seine Mutter folgte ihm mit Charles' Geschwistern dorthin. Charles, das zweitälteste Kind, musste währenddessen in einer Schuhwichsfabrik arbeiten. Erst als der Vater nach einigen Monaten entlassen wurde, besuchte Charles wieder eine Schule. Mit fünfzehn begann er in einem Rechtsanwaltsbüro als Gehilfe zu arbeiten, später wurde er Zeitungsreporter.
Seine schriftstellerische Karriere begann er mit seinen Skizzen des Londoner Alltagslebens. Anschließend entstanden in rascher Folge die ersten Romane. Dickens wurde Herausgeber der liberalen Londoner Zeitung "Daily News", reiste in die USA und nach Italien und verfasste 1848/1849 "David Copperfield", der viel autobiographisches Material enthält.
Dickens' liebevolle Schilderungen menschlicher Schwächen, sein Kosmos skurriler und schrulliger englischer "Originale" und die satirische Anprangerung sozialer Missstände machten ihn bereits zu Lebzeiten zu einem der beliebtesten Romanciers der Weltliteratur. Seine Bücher brachten ihm außerdem beträchtlichen Wohlstand ein. Seit 1860 lebte er auf seinem Landsitz Gad's Hill Place in Kent, wo er im Alter von nur 58 Jahren an einem Schlaganfall starb.
