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Too much is made, one can argue, about the protracted nature of the celebrated Jarndyce litigation.
He is a distinguished lawyer and advisor to one of England’s most powerful families.) to that: how so-called practitioners skirt various temptations (or fail to do so); and how a certain lawyer or doctor justifies his work, comes to terms with his perceived obligations, responds in mind and heart to the hurt, the vulnerability, the alarm if not panic of his clients, his patients.Even as in we see George Eliot trying to comprehend the fate of Dr.Men, women, and children still find themselves irritated, then confounded, then outraged, and finally maddened by cases which affect them deeply, and seem to go on and on and on—maybe not for generations, as happened in , but long enough for particular children to suffer in extended custodial fights, and for particular workers and families to suffer while the responsibility for, say, dangerous environmental pollution is argued in court for months which become years.Yet is much more than a novel that portrays the outcome of a legal impasse.Inside him burned, even then, a writer’s desire to expand upon incidents, convey a given atmosphere, give moral shape to a particular factuality. Shortly thereafter he began the first of his Pickwick pieces—”The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club.” By now he was ready to marry, and to shift course as a writer.He abandoned the writing of conventional journalism, though he worked for a while (two years) as an editor.At 15 Dickens was studying law as an attorney’s apprentice. He had a keen eye for 19th-century English politics—its moral postures, its moments and longer of theater, both high and low, its possibilities, and its sad limitations. He traveled anywhere and everywhere in search of a good political story.He also had developed a compelling manner of narrative presentation—strong, suggestive prose. All London became his routine beat; all England easily tempted him, if he felt the story demanded that extra effort.In his spare time he wandered the streets of London, a penniless lad curious to understand the teeming confusion of a great port city. He loved the English language, dreamed of using it in one way or another.It was only the death of his paternal grandmother that enabled his father to be released from prison. The lesson would never be forgotten by a novelist who was forever reminding his readers, through the workings of one or another plot, how arbitrary fate can be and how good can come of bad—or, of course, vice versa. In 1829 he became a court reporter for the Court of Chancery, whose majestic inscrutability would, decades later, dominate , His specialty was parliamentary reportage. Moreover, he was astonishingly energetic—a quality he’d never stop possessing.