Dickens” and “Dickensian” redirect here. English writer and social critic. His works enjoyed unprecedented journey to niagara by charles dickens essay during his lifetime, and by the 20th century critics and scholars had recognised him as a literary genius. His novels and short stories enjoy lasting popularity.
Within a few years he had become an international literary celebrity, famous for his humour, satire, and keen observation of character and society. Victorian mode for novel publication. The instalment format allowed Dickens to evaluate his audience’s reaction, and he often modified his plot and character development based on such feedback. Dickens improved the character with positive features. His plots were carefully constructed, and he often wove elements from topical events into his narratives. Dickens was regarded as the literary colossus of his age.
London and Paris, is his best-known work of historical fiction. Dickens and his writings, such as poor social conditions or comically repulsive characters. His father was a clerk in the Navy Pay Office and was temporarily stationed in the district. His Majesty’s Navy, gentleman, and head of an established firm, to act as godfather to Charles.
Kent, where he spent his formative years until the age of 11. His early life seems to have been idyllic, though he thought himself a “very small and not-over-particularly-taken-care-of boy”. He retained poignant memories of childhood, helped by an excellent memory of people and events, which he used in his writing. His wife and youngest children joined him there, as was the practice at the time. Charles, then 12 years old, boarded with Elizabeth Roylance, a family friend, at 112 College Place, Camden Town. The strenuous and often harsh working conditions made a lasting impression on Dickens and later influenced his fiction and essays, becoming the foundation of his interest in the reform of socio-economic and labour conditions, the rigours of which he believed were unfairly borne by the poor.
He later wrote that he wondered “how I could have been so easily cast away at such an age”. The blacking-warehouse was the last house on the left-hand side of the way, at old Hungerford Stairs. It was a crazy, tumble-down old house, abutting of course on the river, and literally overrun with rats. Its wainscoted rooms, and its rotten floors and staircase, and the old grey rats swarming down in the cellars, and the sound of their squeaking and scuffling coming up the stairs at all times, and the dirt and decay of the place, rise up visibly before me, as if I were there again. The counting-house was on the first floor, looking over the coal-barges and the river. There was a recess in it, in which I was to sit and work. When a certain number of grosses of pots had attained this pitch of perfection, I was to paste on each a printed label, and then go on again with more pots.