Yesterday was the 200th year anniversary of the birth of Charles Dickens. I have not read many of his works, and in fact, the few that I have read were those from my secondary school literature days. Hence while I do not know much about his books nor his life, I still remember my utmost respect for a great writer, for his quietly powerful observations about life and his awe-inspiring nuanced descriptions of his characters' emotions. I recalled how I could virtually see the scenes in front of me and feel exactly the pain that the characters were going through, as I indulged myself in every word. I remembered too my fervor in devouring memorable quotes from the characters in A Tale of Two Cities, namely from Sydney Carton (my favourite main character in the story) and Jarvis Lorry (my favourite underdog character) and churning them out with great relish in my essays. It's the best thing I could do next to producing them.
Reading his life story in the papers today reaffirmed my respect for a self-made man who pick up shorthand and went on to be a reporter in different fields. He actually even set up a home for prostitutes to help them begin lives anew. Most of all, I respect him for his strong belief that ordinary people have as interesting lives to tell as the rich and famous.
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