When Rita, (from the new book club I am so lucky to have joined) offered me this book, I declined at first, due to my previously mentioned humongous pile of to-be-read books. But, when I saw it was by Matthew Pearl, I changed my mind. The Dante Club is also on my pile, since my husband recommended it. For some reason though, this book called to me first. So, I cheated and it bypassed all of the others for a place in my bag while I was traveling last week. When I was younger, I loved mysteries. Now, many years later, ahem, I am more intrigued by a mystery that has some sort of historical basis. Ok, maybe that does have something to do with my age – I love stories about things much older than me.
The Last Dickens asks the question, “What if Charles Dickens really did finish Edwin Drood, and we only had to find it?” With Dicken’s untimely death, he literally left the world hanging — reading the sixth installment of an announced twelve in the serialized version of his story The Mystery of Edwin Drood. This story is told from the American publisher’s point of view; who, at the time, was in a precarious position. Because there was no international copyright protection then, virtually anyone who could get their hands on the overseas’ edition could go ahead and print a pirated copy in the United States. The official publisher, then, races against several unsavory characters to find the alleged manuscript. There were many moments in reading this that called to mind The Alienist, which is, to me, a favorable comparison. I love to read about old New York, and the parts that take place in London are vividly depicted as well. I’ve always loved reading Dickens, I just never knew what an interesting person he was. The facts surrounding his life and his great fame also provided a perfect backdrop for the story. There is even a little romance, though the less sexy, more New England kind (the publisher is based in Boston).
The question this book asks is one we sometimes ask ourselves, is a secret ever a good thing? But, in true mystery fashion, we wonder if there’s even a secret after all; maybe some things were just never meant to be, and some stories better left untold.
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