Sometimes classics are great, and I surprise myself by getting through what looks at first like a tiresome slog- other times they’re just difficult. Like this one. I became interested in reading David Copperfield after enjoying Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver. I was plenty curious to see where she’d drawn her inspiration from. I think perhaps I should have left more time between the two, though. It made me feel a bit- discomfited- to recognize the characters Kingsolver copied. I know the original is old enough that this is not considered plagiarism, but still- some of the situations and people were so exactly duplicated it really jumped out at me, and it felt odd. I kind of wondered why the modern author didn’t come up with her own characters.
I was enjoying this at first. It is, of course, well-written and a lot of the narrative flows in an easy, lively fashion. It starts with David recounting some incidents surrounding his birth, and much of what follows is so familiar (from my reading of the other novel): the superstition about the caul, the mother re-marrying an unkind man who pretty much kicks David out after she later dies, the shiftless foster family that’s always planning to make it big (which never happens) and pawning all their belongings, the older spinster aunt who supports young women and is surprised when David shows up on her doorstep, the slightly not-quite-all-there but still very intelligent in his own way brother of hers, who writes his life story on kites and then flies them . . . what was missing for me was some actual connection to the main character. I felt as if I was reading David narrating everything that happened around him, without sharing much of his own reactions to or feelings for things. It seemed far more detailed about telling all the goings on of people around him, and the very interesting and quirky character traits. I did laugh out loud when I read of the aunt’s repeated protests when people rode donkeys across a bit of lawn in front her house. I think I feel much the same way about people letting their dogs crap on the hellstrip in front of my yard (because some of them don’t pick it up). Nearly two centuries later, and some things never change!
But I lost steam. I started this book right after The Great White Bear, and had to take a few breaks, interspersing some lighter reads. I was intrigued at first by the depictions of all the different people, amused at some of the turns of events and conversations, interested in the additional notes and explanations in the appendix (needing two bookmarks for this one) and even read most of the introduction which explains how much of this book is supposedly based on Dicken’s own life experiences. It’s fairly autobiographical. But after having another break to read Dancing with Bees, I just couldn’t get back into David Copperfield. I forgot what was going on and who the people surrounding the main character now were. I backtracked a bit to remind myself but then found my mind unfocused and wandering for pages. I tried again the next day, skimmed ahead a bit, perused all the illustrations, and sighed. It’s just not resonating with me now. I quit on page 266, which I make note of in case I decide to pick this one up again someday (even though I’ll probably start over from the beginning again).
Borrowed from the public library.