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Summary
Summary
From his first terrifying encounter with Magwitch, an escaped convict, Pip's life is engaged with misconceptions about guilt, money and class, thanks to Miss Haversham and Estella.
Author Notes
Charles Dickens, perhaps the best British novelist of the Victorian era, was born in Portsmouth, Hampshire, England on February 7, 1812. His happy early childhood was interrupted when his father was sent to debtors' prison, and young Dickens had to go to work in a factory at age twelve. Later, he took jobs as an office boy and journalist before publishing essays and stories in the 1830s.
His first novel, The Pickwick Papers, made him a famous and popular author at the age of twenty-five. Subsequent works were published serially in periodicals and cemented his reputation as a master of colorful characterization, and as a harsh critic of social evils and corrupt institutions. His many books include Oliver Twist, David Copperfield, Bleak House, Great Expectations, Little Dorrit, A Christmas Carol, and A Tale of Two Cities.
Dickens married Catherine Hogarth in 1836, and the couple had nine children before separating in 1858 when he began a long affair with Ellen Ternan, a young actress. Despite the scandal, Dickens remained a public figure, appearing often to read his fiction. He died in 1870, leaving his final novel, The Mystery of Edwin Drood, unfinished.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (5)
Publisher's Weekly Review
This beloved classic from Dickens follows the life and adventures of a six-year-old orphan named Pip as he makes his way and comes of age in 19th-century England. Simon Prebble turns in a solid performance in this audio edition, offering up a lush and resolutely dramatic reading and creating a panoply of unique voices and accents for the book's many characters. But while Prebble's performance is lavish, it fails to distinguish itself from the scores of previous audio productions of Dickens's novels. Still, his reading remains a pleasure and a well-orchestrated introduction to the world of Dickens-one that could serve as a wonderful opportunity for both fans and those new to the author's work. (Nov.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Horn Book Review
While this attractive abridged version of the sprawling Dickens novel about Pip, an orphan-turned-aristocrat, retains some of the spirit of the original, some characters are completely absent. Pip's reversal of fortune, too, lacks punch, as the story's brevity dilutes his tribulations. Still, this may be useful as an introduction to the classic. Black-and-white and color illustrations realistically capture both the setting and character. From HORN BOOK Spring 2003, (c) Copyright 2010. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
School Library Journal Review
Gr 7 Up-The team responsible for Pride and Prejudice (2014) and The Scarlet Letter (2015, both Udon) present another classic tale in manga form. As in the original, orphaned Pip, raised by his harsh sister and her simple yet kind husband, Joe, encounters hints of the finer things when he is brought to visit with the bitter and twisted Miss Havisham and her ward, the beautiful but imperious Estella. The author and illustrators demonstrate an understanding of Dickens's tale, conveying how Pip's shame at his humble beginnings and his eagerness to make something of himself when a mysterious benefactor comes into his life gives way eventually to his realization of what is truly important in life. Many of the more well-known lines of dialogue are reproduced but made more accessible to a modern audience, such as Miss Havisham's diatribe against love. Readers who are put off by Dickens's dense prose may prefer Poon's beautiful, stylized art. The illustrator translates key scenes, using dynamic angles and dramatic blocking, giving the work an almost cinematic look. Tone, setting, and characters, too, are easily established through the visuals. However, attempting to condense a novel of this length presents a few problems. Some characters are thin and underdeveloped, and there are plot points that feel rushed. Still, on the whole, this offering will go over well with teens. VERDICT An effective adaptation, though not without its flaws; students may wish to read the manga alongside the original.-Mahnaz Dar, School Library Journal © Copyright 2015. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Guardian Review
He sat astride the gun Zam-Zammah, opposite the Lahore Wonder House. Burnished black by the sun, though definitely not a native for he was the orphaned son of an Irish soldier, Kim yonder espied a Tibetan lama. "Whither goest thou, most Holy Asiatic man?" he asked. "I searcheth for the River in which the Arrow of Life has landed," the lama replied. "And what, pray, is thy name, boy?" "They callest me Friend of the World," Kim said, "and I shall be your chela on your quest to escape the Wheel of Things. But first, lettest me say farewell to my erstwhile guardian." "God's curse on all Unbelievers," Mahbub Ali exclaimed, reflecting the colourful diversity of the Indian sub-continent. "Since thou musteth go, then telleth the British commander in Umballah his stallion is pukka." With the natural disguise of the native and the intelligence of the sahib, Kim overheard two brigands talking. There was more to Mahbub Ali's note than met the eye. "Come," he said to the lama. "Letteth us leave on the te-rain before there's trouble afoot." "Thou art a doughty fellow," the Colonel said, glancing at the note. With the natural disguise of the native and the intelligence of the sahib, the Friend of the World realised the Game was on. There was to be fighting in the North! But first, he would remain the lama's chela and seek out the River of the Arrow. "Hit ye not that snake," the lama cried as they walked the Grand Trunk Road. "For within is a fallen man seeking redemption." "Actually," the cobra hissed, "I was a millipede in my last life and I'm on the way up." "How happy we are," the Sikh and the Pathan declared, sharing their victual with Kim and the lama. "We artest truly blessed to enjoy the rich diversity of India." "Indeed we are," the Old Soldier agreed. "The Mutiny is but a long-forgotten aberration. Verily, those that did riseth up against the Sacred Sahibs were grippest by a Fevered Madness. How else can one explaineth so profane an act against the benevolence of the Raj?" With the natural disguise of the native and the intelligence of the sahib, Kim procured some tikkuts for the te-rain and, after many pages on the richness of Indian culture, realised the plot was getting seriously waylaid. "Forsooth," cried Kim, "my parents always toldeth me the Red Bull would beareth me Good News. And thither is a flag of the Red Bull." "Behold," whispered the lama. "It is the ensign of your father's regiment. The prophecies cometh true." "Well, young man," the chaplain declared. "Seeing as thou art a pure Sahib by birth, the regiment will taketh you in and schooleth thee at Lucknow." "God's teeth," the Colonel exclaimed. "With his natural disguise of the native and his intelligence of the sahib, the boy will becometh a top spy in the Great Game once we have taughteth him a feweth lessons. Come playeth the White Man, boy!" "I musteth returneth to my spiritual quest for the River of the Arrow," the lama whispered. "Else I shall be grindeth by the Wheel of Things. Yet letteth my chela visit me from time to time." "Thou art a mischievous imp, O Friend of the World," Mahbub Ali groaned some three years later. "Thy constant scampish cunning and thy boundless romantic idealism of Indian imperialism becometh rather wearing after a whileth. Prithee, forgeteth the fake fakirs and get oneth with the story. Such as it iseth." "Mayest I sayeth a word?" enquired Huneefa, the token woman. "Nay, impenitent heathen," the colonel replied. "Women are a distraction to the affairs of Empire." Kim flung himself upon the next turn of the Wheel, learning the arts of the Game, first with Sahib Lurgan and his Hindu servant, and then with Babu Hurree Chunder Mookherjee. "What the dooce!" cried Babu Mookherjee. "We neeeedeth to find the eveeeedence of an attack in the north." "Taketh no notice of Babu's funny voice," the Colonel laughed. "He talketh stupid to letteth you know that though he iseth a well-educated Indian, he iseth stilleth a native and canneth never be oneth of us." "Do not thou and I also talk quaintly?" Kim enquired. "'Pon my word tis a bitteth late to thinketh of that. Now get thee hence to the North to playeth the Great Game". "Come chela , perhaps the River of the Arrow is to be found in the Karakorum," the lama said. "Yet what manner of Unenlightened strangers shall be found in the mountains?" " Da . Niet . Dosvedanya ." "Good fortune!" Kim said. "We haveth cometh upon the Russians, and yea it iseth the Russians who are the enemy of Blessed India. Keepeth them talking while I nicketh their code books and diaries and thence we shall sneaketh off." "You haveth the eveeeedence, O Friend of the World," Babu smiled. "The Great Game hath beeeeen won." "Methinks I hath been looking for the River of the Arrow in the wrong place," the lama said sadly. "Wilt thou comest with me to find the Meaning of Life further south?" "Perhaps I will. For I am Kim. Or am I?" John Crace's Digested Reads appear in G2 on Tuesdays. Caption: article-DigKim.1 "God's curse on all Unbelievers," Mahbub Ali exclaimed, reflecting the colourful diversity of the Indian sub-continent. "Since thou musteth go, then telleth the British commander in Umballah his stallion is pukka." With the natural disguise of the native and the intelligence of the sahib, [Kim] overheard two brigands talking. There was more to Mahbub Ali's note than met the eye. "Come," he said to the lama. "Letteth us leave on the te-rain before there's trouble afoot." "Taketh no notice of Babu's funny voice," the Colonel laughed. "He talketh stupid to letteth you know that though he iseth a well-educated Indian, he iseth stilleth a native and canneth never be oneth of us." - John Crace.
Library Journal Review
Starred Review. Expertly narrated by Simon Vance, with a PDF copy of the book included on the first disc. Great Expectations also won an Audie in 2010 for classic and solo narration male (Audio Connoisseur, narrated by Charlton Griffin), but that edition will likely be more difficult for libraries to acquire. (c) Copyright 2014. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
Chapter I. My father's family name being Pirrip, and my christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip. I give Pirrip as my father's family name, on the authority of his tombstone and my sister - Mrs. Joe Gargery, who married the blacksmith. As I never saw my father or my mother, and never saw any likeness of either of them (for their days were long before the days of photographs), my first fancies regarding what they were like, were unreasonably derived from their tombstones. The shape of the letters on my father's, gave me an odd idea that he was a square, stout, dark man, with curly black hair. From the character and turn of the inscription, "Also Georgiana Wife of the Above," I drew a childish conclusion that my mother was freckled and sickly. To five little stone lozenges, each about a foot and a half long, which were arranged in a neat row beside their grave, and were sacred to the memory of five little brothers of mine - who gave up trying to get a living exceedingly early in that universal struggle - I am indebted for a belief I religiously entertained that they had all been born on their backs with their hands in their trousers-pockets, and had never taken them out in this state of existence. Ours was the marsh country, down by the river, within as the river wound, twenty miles of the sea. My first most vivid and broad impression of the identity of things, seems to me to have been gained on a memorable raw afternoon towards evening. At such a time I found out for certain, that this bleak place overgrown with nettles was the churchyard; and that Philip Pirrip, late of this parish, and also Georgiana wife of the above, were dead and buried; and that Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobias, and Roger, infant children of the aforesaid, were also dead and buried; and that the dark flat wilderness beyond the churchyard, intersected with dykes and mounds and gates, with scattered cattle feeding on it, was the marshes; and that the low leaden line beyond was the river; and that the distant savage lair from which the wind was rushing, was the sea; and that the small bundle of shivers growing afraid of it all and beginning to cry, was Pip. "Hold your noise!" cried a terrible voice, as a man started up from among the graves at the side of the church porch. "Keep still, you little devil, or I'll cut your throat!" A fearful man, all in coarse grey, with a great iron on his leg. A man with no hat, and with broken shoes, and with an old rag tied round his head. A man who had been soaked in water, and smothered in mud, and lamed by stones, and cut by flints, and stung by nettles, and torn by briars; who limped, and shivered, and glared and growled; and whose teeth chattered in his head as he seized me by the chin. "Oh! Don't cut my throat, sir," I pleaded in terror. "Pray don't do it, sir." "Tell us your name!" said the man. "Quick!" "Pip, sir." "Once more," said the man, staring at me. "Give it mouth!" Excerpted from Great Expectations by Charles Dickens All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
