I hate Charles Dickens. I know he’s like Mr. Classic Literature, but there’s something I find insufferable about his work. I once tried to read Oliver Twist, but got halfway through and gave up in boredom and annoyance. ‘Oy I’m a poor little waif named Oliver and all I want is a bowl of soup and someone to love, but alas cruel fate is maligned against me. Oh God! Oh England! Shut up and get a job Oliver. According to William Blake there’s loads of chimney sweeping gigs available, and you could look sad and pathetic with coal dust all over your face.

At least I made it halfway through that one. I’m not sure I got past the first paragraph of Great Expectations. I lost interest when Dicky was blathering on about the times and said that it was “the epoch of incredulity.” Really? The epoch of incredulity? I don’t even think people said that kind of stuff 150 years ago. I think you meant the epoch of verbosity Dick. Or the epoch of writing sentences so long that the reader can’t remember the beginning by the time we get to the end. Wait, I think I remember something about someone dying in a tower. Now normally that type of thing would catch my attention, but I’m sure I forgot because I was bogged down in the mintuae of what type of stones the tower was made of and how many and whether there was an odd or an even number, and that’s before we even godforbid get to the curtains. Not to mention that Dickens was the biggest flaming racist of the Victorian era.

What I really need is a time machine so that I will never have to hear anything described as Dickensian ever again. Next stop: Mormon County, Utah to have a little chat with Stephanie Meyers about empowering her protagonist a little.

Fantasy #2:

I will go to JK Rowlings house and she will show me the secret entrance to Hogwarts hidden in the basement of her castle. Listen, we all know Harry Potter was much too imaginative and detailed to be fiction. Obviously JK got her material from the source-aka Harry Potter, and the series is clearly a biography for muggles, not an incredible young adult fantasy series. If I get sent to jail and send out a blog asking for bail money it will be because I broke into Rowling’s house and was throwing things in the fireplace looking for Flu Powder.

Fantasy #3:

I want to hit up a happy hour with Elizabeth Bennet. She just seems like a great one for girls night out. We could make fun of her cousin Mr. Collins and speculate together on whatever could have possessed Charlotte to marry him. Maybe Jo from Little Women would show up and we could discuss the benefits of dating an older man.  And Much Ado About Nothing‘s Beatrice would keep us all laughing with her witty (yet loving) quips about Benedick.

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