Thursday, April 21, 2005

Walt Dickens World

"Work is due to start on a £60m theme park in Kent based on the life and work of Charles Dickens. Dickens World is to be built on derelict dockland at Chatham, where the Victorian novelist lived as a boy. A multiplex cinema with bars and restaurants is to open in October 2006 and the theme park in April 2007. 'We look forward to Dickens World becoming one of Medway's leading visitor attractions,' said project director Jonathan Sadler.

"The themed attraction will be based on the life, times and books of Dickens. It will reproduce Victorian architecture, with cobbled streets and specialist lighting providing the background to rides and other entertainment. Work is expected to begin in the next two months. Chatham Maritime site is the flagship of the South East England Development Agency (Seeda). 'Rochester and Chatham make a natural location for a project based on Charles Dickens,' said Mr Sadler. 'Dickens not only lived here, but it is where he originated many of his storylines.'"

Oh, boy.

Reading this, I wondered what else there might be to do in Medway, and uncovered the following: "Medway has four cemeteries which are run and maintained by Medway Council, who are committed to providing a first class service and improving the appearance and safety of its cemeteries." Finally, a city with safe, first class cemetaries. The dead can now rest a lot easier.

From a casual glance, the area does seem to already be rather a haven for simulacra, something of a British Mystic Seaport. Tacking on Dickens World could conceivably be akin to the Magic Kingdom tacking on Epcot. I could be wrong though. I've never been there.

The New York Times has already taken a stand on Dickens World; they were predictably against it. I would imagine most people in a position to comment would prefer to comment negatively rather than positively. First of all, there's the poststructuralist books bastardized into simulation/simulacrum approach. Then there's the fact that, let's face it, the world Dickens wrote about was one bleak universe; I mean, Hard Times isn't quite an appealing travel brochure. Then there's the I'm too intellectual for any theme park but especially a theme park that de-intellectualizes approach. And no matter what approach you take, it is an easy target. Dickens World? Come on, now.

Me? I'm neutral. I like theme parks, and I like Dickens. Who knows?

It's just a coincidence that I've been thinking about Dickens a lot lately, because I've been thinking about writing in general thanks to Caveman. Dickens is in my personal pantheon, a conservative choice that is hardly worth an alert to the media. I think I came into Dickens in a lucky way, untainted by the way the poor guy seems to be taught nowadays. I remember distinctly reading a little yellow paperback of Oliver Twist around fifth or sixth grade, not getting too much of a fix on it but really liking the idea of the Artful Dodger and company. This was shortly followed by a read of Copperfield, which was an entry into a complete and real world the likes of which I had never seen before. Copperfield is far from a perfect novel structurally, but its wealth of characters is phenomenal. Micawber, Heep, the lone lorn creetur, the Murdstones, the Peggottys, Barkis, Mr. Dick — the list goes on. Then on to Expectations, at which point Dickens has mastered both structure and character. I was hooked.

The good news is, I never, ever had to read Dickens. I was never cursed with a high school assignment for Tale of Two Cities, that most un-Dickens of Dickens stories. Nobody reading Tale would ever suspect the richness of Copperfield or Pickwick. That rigidly controlled little historical is okay, but no one reads Dickens for rigid control. And although I do faintly recall an assignment on Expectations, having already read it, and seen the movie, I didn't have to spoil the work by forcing it into a classroom. What does being brought up by hand actually mean, anyhow?

So I saved Dickens for after college, and did him from start to finish. All the books in chronological order, with the exception of Barnaby Rudge which I postponed till later (I guess having only a mild fondness for the one historical limited my expectations of the other). The early novels are rangy beasts indeed. Pickwick is barely a novel at all, but the character of Sam Weller has become archetypal of the savvy servant. There's fine moments in Nickleby and Chuzzlewit and Dombey, etc., but it really isn't till Copperfield that Dickens turns the corner from good to great. At the summit are Bleak House (worse title ever for a not bleak book) and Our Mutual Friend. But it is always Copperfield that I go back to, having read it 4 or 5 times, I guess. I love that journey.

Dickens is filled with humor. Take the names, for instance. Murdstone. Pecksniff. Jarndyce. Unlike Restoration drama names that pin their characters to the wall, these wispy seminal names hint at character in the corners of your brain. Uriah Heep? Jeesh. Plus there's just plain funny situations, and wonderful slices of life. And some incredible writing. That moment in Friend when the Veneerings (another perfect name) spy one another spying on themselves in the mirror... I would kill to be able to write one moment of that material.

I would suggest that you ignore any Dickens you have to read, and pretend it never happened. Then start Copperfield on a nice summer day and see what happens. Read Bleak House the following summer. And Our Mutual Friend the summer after that. Then go to the beginning and start with Pickwick and when you get to the point where Drood stops, you can stop too. Or, if you're like me, then you can go back and read Barnaby Rudge. If you don't like this stuff—at least the major works—I'm sorry. You're missing out on one of the joys of Western civilization. It's akin to not liking the cathedral at Chartres or the Roman Colosseum or Beethoven's Ninth Symphony or Citizen Kane or the Sistine Chapel.

I have already acquired a new copy of The Pickwick Papers. I am ready to start again any day now.

No comments: