There are those even now who affect to disparage television. Who still call it the idiot box or the boob tube and boast how little they watch it. But I find that a bit odd in that it ignores the great variety that is on offer: dramas, documentaries, comedies, sport, and news. Yes, you can still watch your fill of pap, filler, crap, trash and so on, and you can waste hours watching the thing to no great benefit to anyone, but you can also enjoy great programming that entertains, illuminates, dazzles and educates. To do so, you probably need cable TV and expensive box sets and DVD/Blueray players but it can be done, and television is as intelligent as you want it to be - bounded by affordability.
The BBC has always enjoyed a reputation as a great production house of television, despite the fact they can produce crap the equal of anyone’s. But at its best, the BBC indeed deserves that reputation. One of their consistent strengths has been literary adaptation. I’m sure I am not alone in encountering many of the great classics first as a BBC production, and then reading the book. The latest stop on that journey has been Charles Dickens’ Bleak House.
I watched the BBC 2005’s production during a week at a well-to-do and generous friend’s house in England on DVD after every other form of entertainment in the house was eliminated through a problem with their internet connection. It was entertaining, gripping and challenging television. And memorable. When we told his wife we were watching Bleak House, her first response was ‘Shake me up, Judy’, the catchphrase of one of the more odious of Dickens’ creations, Grandfather Smallweed, played by Phil Davis. Imagine my surprise a few weeks later when I met Davis as the brother-in-law of a friend of mine. I resisted a strong temptation to say ‘Shake me up, Judy’ though it lingered at the tip of my tongue for the entire meal that we shared.
I almost bought a copy of the novel a few weeks later but resisted for some reason. Books I find have to be read at the proper time. How you determine the proper time is a mystery to me, but I hold this to be true. Sometime last year, I finally bought a copy. Sometime this year, I finally finished it. It is a mighty undertaking. The BBC serial though excellent through necessity simplified the plot. Or plots, there are so many, more than any other Dickens novel that I’ve read. And the list of minor characters is enormous. Dickens, or his publisher, has kindly presented us with a cast list at the beginning of the book, which is indeed useful but by no means complete. That said, and with the large gaps between readings, I still found it relatively easy to slip back into the Dickensian world of Lady Deadwood, Esther Summerson and Jarndyce and Jarndyce.
[The book also took some time because I bought it. I have read many other books in that time, usually ones borrowed from the library. The three-week loan period (which can be extended to six) makes you tend to focus on those books at the expense of ones you own. Even now I can see an Iliad, Lucky Jim and a critical look at Graham Greene glowering at me from my bookshelf. Soon, I promise!]
What did come through strongly in the TV series, which has been confirmed by my reading, is Dickens’ anger. Dickens can often be dismissed as a writer of sentimental stories depending heavily on co-incidence and populated by eccentric characters. Adaptations, in order to simplify his books to the limited time-span offered by the various mediums, can accentuate these undeniable aspects of his work. ‘Oliver!’ is probably the most obvious example. But who can forget David Lean’s opening scene of ‘Oliver Twist’ with Oliver’s heavily pregnant mother caught in a merciless storm? And in BBC’s Bleak House, they caught so well Dickens’ widely cast eye on the vagaries and mercilessness of the law, the chasm between rich and poor, strong and weak, between good and evil. Dickens’ blood would boil at the thought of the injustice in the England he loved so much, people thrown on society’s scrap heap, forgotten, mistreated, and those who would justify this as some sort of unquestionable order of society. The death of Jo would perhaps even soften Oscar Wilde’s heart.
So although Bleak House is not an easy read, it is a worthwhile one. The myriad stories are varied and satisfying, Dickens’ social commentary well observed and his humour rich. He is endlessly quotable. Those who have had dealing with the Law would find it hard to disagree with “The one great Principle of English law is, to make business for itself.” This book is said to be the beginning of Dickens’ dark period, so I suppose that accounts for the different experience I had in reading this and some of his earlier works. I also had difficulty in not picturing the actors again as I read the words. Dickens can often give quite detailed portraits of his characters, which in this case were often against the casting. But this is a minor quibble both in reading and watching.
Dickens was never afraid to use three words where one would have done, and his sentences can be ornate to the point of obscurity. But if you skim you can miss gems of phrases and words that shine like jewels in elaborate needlepoint. I tend to read on the train or in bed, both of which are not ideal places to savour writing, with the station or sleep fast approaching. Dickens wrote for the person sitting in their favourite armchair, reading for pleasure. Eventually, that’s what I had to do. Dickens wrote for an audience who had more time. Tune in, drop out and read.
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