Book Review - Bleak House (Charles Dickens)

The classical genre isn't one that I'm overly familiar with. While I've studied a few texts for university work, I've never sat down and read one in my own time. For a long time, I never really strayed outside the science fiction or fantasy genre. I decided if I should branch out, I should at least start with a name and a story I was familiar with. I've a vague recollection of a BBC adaptation of Dicken's gargantuan tome, made about ten years ago. So despite its great length, Bleak House felt a good place to start.

The story is a vast one, spread all over England with an endless amount of characters. The plot orbits an illegitimate girl named Esther Summerson, who is adopted by a man named John Jarndyce, the namesake of a notoriously complex and long-running Chancery suit. Meanwhile, Esther's estranged mother, Lady Dedlock, struggles to keep her secret safe while being threatened by the ruthless lawyer Mr Tulkinghorn. Multiple subplots cling to these narratives, but these two are the main ones.

Despite its length, the story revolves around a few key themes, and many of its characters share similar traits which highlight these themes. Parasitism is one of the most prominent, as shown through the likes of Harold Skimpole, one of the novel's most repugnant characters. Skimpole is a man of many friends, hopping from one to another like a flea, charming them out of their money. But what seperates him from other parasites such as Mr Smallweed or Mr Vholes, is the manner in which he does so. Smallweed for instance, is clearly a grotesque; decrepit and sunken in his chair, hurling insults and cushions at his senile wife. Smallweed is a moneylender, and claims to be the friend of his clients, but does so in such an obsequious manner that the pretense is obvious. Smallweed takes great pleasure in ensnaring his clients, then lording it over them when things turn against them, as happens to Mr George.

By contrast, Mr Skimpole seems completely oblivious to the detrimental effect he has on everyone he meets. Whenever confronted by this, he launches into rambling tirades about what a child he is, and thus that he cannot be held accountable for anything. The early descriptions of Skimpole are also deceptive, painting him at first as a friendly sprite-like figure - “He was a little bright creature, with ... a sweet voice, and there was a perfect charm about him”. While Smallweed's guise is so thin he clearly doesn't care about hiding his true nature from people, Skimpole maintains his guise even when everyone else has become disillusioned with him. The most damning example of this is when Esther confronts him on his betrayal of Jo to the police. Skimpole once again attempts to cover himself, but always with a charming smile as if he can really expect to get away with it. He has bought into his own delusion and so refuses to grow out of his childish ways. While Smallweed is unpleasant, Skimpole is absolutely infuriating as a character. While reading I wanted to somehow reach into the text and shake some sense into him.

The parasitism of these characters is reflected in the case itself. Jarndyce and Jarndyce reads like a Lovecraftian abomination – exposing yourself to it leaves you open to losing your mind. “The Mace and Seal” act like a siren that lures people to the courthouse, where the case siphons away their money and their senses. Miss Flite eerily describes to Esther how the case ruined her father, then her brother and sister, and finally she herself is caught in its grip. The story's tone here is highly deterministic, as it claims that there is no way to actively beat the intricacies of the legal system. Mr Jarndyce escapes only by ignoring it completely. The case comes to an end, not by being resolved, but by collapsing under its own costliness. The monster isn't beaten through determination or cleverness, but by being strangled by its own red tape.

The case is reflected in the story's plot, not only in complexity but also in predatoriness. Attempts to assert control over events often meet with disaster, with Mr Tulkinghorn being the most striking example. With his cold calculating manner, Tulkinghorn at first appears the type who would flourish in such an environment. He is not only fiercely intelligent, but pragmatic, never acting on impulse and always in control of himself. His prestige makes him a favourite of the elites, while his connections with the police mean he can dominate the lives of the poorer classes as well. He sees Lady Dedlock as “a study” as he toys with her, showing how his abilities have made him both arrogant and utterly emotionally dettached. But ultimately, Tulkinghorn's menacing nature is a red herring, when he's shot by Lady Dedlock's former maid, one of his agents. It proves a fitting end, where Tulkinghorn becomes a victim of his own games.

At the heart of the story lies Esther Summerson. She gets a narrative thread of her own, which is deeply personal, in contrast with the omniscient narrative which overlooks all the other characters. Esther's account is clearly meant to be the heart of the story, however I found many of her segments very tedious, largely because the characters she meets aren't that interesting. Esther herself was an engaging enough heroine to start with, but I became worn out as the story dragged on and on. The characters surrounding her (Ada, Richard, Mr Jarndyce, Caddy, Charley) aren't much better. I suppose it's the old cliche of the villains and grotesques more interesting than the heroes. Even Esther's relationship with Lady Dedlock failed to stimulate me. The revelation of her parentage does little to advance the plot (at least from Esther's perspective) until towards the end of the story. By this time, I had largely stopped caring.

It doesn't help that Esther spends a lot of time observing other characters' lives, instead of contributing to the story herself. Despite it being her narrative, much of it focuses on her two friends, Richard and Ada, falling in love. I found this subplot to be one of the story's worst elements – the romance is insipid and the two lovers are completely flat. Richard's death at the end of the novel is meant to serve as a tragic climax, but given his blandness beforehand I simply didn't care. Esther also watches as another friend of hers falls in love with a struggling dance instructor. The young couple have to endure his overbearing father, which made this subplot slightly more interesting as it gave the promise of some conflict. Unfortunately, this thread is never resolved and leaves something of a gap in the end. Esther's passivity is also glaringly obvious in the chase section of the story, as she accompanies Inspector Bucket in searching for her estranged mother. While Mr Bucket is the one actively searcing, Esther merely tags along and narrates for benefit of the reader. She is ultimately a useless character and many of her sections suffer as a result.

Esther is paralleled with Lady Dedlock, who also lies at the story's heart, yet is for the most part passive. However, Dickens here at least has a point to make. Lady Dedlock's paralysis is meant to show how empty life in the nobility can be. She may be wealthy and have a devoted and influential husband, but she is powerless against Mr Tulkinghorn's grim determination. Despite her status, Lady Dedlock is no more in control of her own life than any of the other characters. Her aloof manner for much of the story would also appear to make her as cold as the likes of Tulkinghorn, but it turns out this is only to mask her inner turmoil. Her failure to act against Mr Tulkinghorn gives her fate more poignancy; if she had killed him herself, it would have made the chance of a happy ending remote. But the fact that she flees as a result of a misunderstanding makes her fate seem more avoidable, and thus more tragic.

If Esther and Lady Dedlock are the heart of the story, Inspector Bucket is the brain. I found him to be the most fascinating character, due to his multi-dimensionality. He is introduced in the manner of a villain – acting as Mr Tulkinghorn's muscle to fetch Jo the sweeper as a witness. Later on though, he proves to be a sharp-witted man who not only catches Mr Tulkinghorn's murderer, but also sees through the vanity and shallowness of the people who clamour for financial aid from Sir Leicester Dedlock. Mr Bucket is also gracious to Esther, and comforts her as they try to find her mother. But this warmth clashes with his behaviour around Jo, which is nothing short of thuggish. Mr Bucket is also indirectly responsible for Jo's death, as he snatches him from the nurturing halls of Bleak House (to protect Mr Tulkinghorn's secrets) and leaves him to waste away in the slums of London. Although perceptive and compassionate, Mr Bucket also demonstrates the double standard of a society that is fair to some, but merciless to others.

The story's biggest flaw has to be its length. The copy I read was 990 pages long, but could have lost about 300 and wouldn't have suffered for it. The volume of characters makes it hard to recall exactly who everyone is and what their connections are with each other. The Jellyby family subplot, for instance, is one which could have been dropped. While I enjoyed the story for its themes and its vast scope, I felt Dickens became overindulgent in places. It's ironic that a story that attacks convoluted bureaucracy can't avoid being long-winded itself in places. With all that said, I would heartily recommed Bleak House. Its satire of a society peopled with memorable caricatures makes it a highly memorable read.