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Oliver Twist (Signet Classics) Mass Market Paperback – April 5, 2005
Charles Dickens (Author) Find all the books, read about the author, and more. See search results for this author |
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This tale of the orphan who is reared in a workhouse and runs away to London is a novel of social protest, a morality tale, and a detective story. Oliver Twist presents some of the most sinister characters in Dickens: the master thief, Fagin; the leering Artful Dodger; the murderer, Bill Sikes…along with some of his most sentimental and comical characters. Only Dickens can give us nightmare and daydream together.
According to George Orwell, “in Oliver Twist…Dickens attacked English institutions with a ferocity that has never since been approached. Yet he managed to do it without making himself hated, and, more than this, the very people he attacked have welcomed him so completely that he has become a national institution himself.”
With an Introduction by Frederick Busch
and an Afterword by Edward Le Comte
- Print length512 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- Dimensions4.19 x 0.8 x 6.81 inches
- PublisherSignet
- Publication dateApril 5, 2005
- ISBN-109780451529718
- ISBN-13978-0451529718
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Editorial Reviews
Review
"One of the great poets of the novel, a genius of his art."—Edgar Johnson
"All of his characters are my personal friends—I am constantly comparing them with living persons and living persons with them, and what a spirit there was in all he wrote."—Leo Tolstoy
About the Author
Distinguished writer, teacher, and critic Frederick Busch is the author of more than twenty works of fiction, including North, Girls, and The Mutual Friend, a novel about Charles Dickens.
Edward Le Comte (1916-2004) was professor of English at the State University of New York at Albany, and he also taught at Columbia, his alma mater, and the University of California at Berkley. He was the author of more than twenty books, including novels, a biography of John Donne, and two memoirs. His specialty, both in teaching and in numerous influential articles and books, was Milton.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Treats of the place where Oliver Twist was Born; and of the Circumstances attending his Birth.
Among other public buildings in a certain town, which for many reasons it will be prudent to refrain from mentioning, and to which I will assign no fictitious name, there is one anciently common to most towns, great or small: to wit, a workhouse; and in this workhouse was born: on a day and date which I need not trouble myself to repeat, inasmuch as it can be of no possible consequence to the reader, in this stage of the business at all events: the item of mortality whose name is prefixed to the head of this chapter.
For a long time after it was ushered into this world of sorrow and trouble, by the parish surgeon, it remained a matter of considerable doubt whether the child would survive to bear any name at all; in which case it is somewhat more than probable that these memoirs would never have appeared; or, if they had, that being comprised within a couple of pages, they would have possessed the inestimable merit of being the most concise and faithful specimen of biography, extant in the literature of any age or country.
Although I am not disposed to maintain that the being born in a workhouse, is in itself the most fortunate and enviable circumstance that can possibly befal a human being, I do mean to say that in this particular instance, it was the best thing for Oliver Twist that could by possibility have occurred. The fact is, that there was considerable difficulty in inducing Oliver to take upon himself the office of respiration,-a troublesome practice, but one which custom has rendered necessary to our easy existence; and for some time he lay gasping on a little flock mattress, rather unequally poised between this world and the next: the balance being decidedly in favour of the latter. Now, if, during this brief period, Oliver had been surrounded by careful grandmothers, anxious aunts, experienced nurses, and doctors of profound wisdom, he would most inevitably and indubitably have been killed in no time. There being nobody by, however, but a pauper old woman, who was rendered rather misty by an unwonted allowance of beer; and a parish surgeon who did such matters by contract; Oliver and Nature fought out the point between them. The result was, that, after a few struggles, Oliver breathed, sneezed, and proceeded to advertise to the inmates of the workhouse the fact of a new burden having been imposed upon the parish, by setting up as loud a cry as could reasonably have been expected from a male infant who had not been possessed of that very useful appendage, a voice, for a much longer space of time than three minutes and a quarter.
As Oliver gave this first proof of the free and proper action of his lungs, the patchwork coverlet which was carelessly flung over the iron bedstead, rustled; the pale face of a young woman was raised feebly from the pillow; and a faint voice imperfectly articulated the words, "Let me see the child, and die."
The surgeon had been sitting with his face turned towards the fire: giving the palms of his hands, a warm and a rub alternately. As the young woman spoke, he rose, and advancing to the bed's head, said, with more kindness than might have been expected of him:
"Oh, you must not talk about dying yet."
"Lor bless her dear heart, no!" interposed the nurse, hastily depositing in her pocket a green glass bottle, the contents of which she had been tasting in a corner with evident satisfaction. "Lor bless her dear heart, when she has lived as long as I have, sir, and had thirteen children of her own, and all on 'em dead except two, and them in the wurkus with me, she'll know better than to take on in that way, bless her dear heart! Think what it is to be a mother, there's a dear young lamb, do."
Apparently this consolatory perspective of a mother's prospects, failed in producing its due effect. The patient shook her head, and stretched out her hand towards the child.
The surgeon deposited it in her arms. She imprinted her cold white lips passionately on its forehead; passed her hands over her face; gazed wildly round; shuddered; fell back-and died. They chafed her breast, hands, and temples; but the blood had stopped for ever. They talked of hope and comfort. They had been strangers too long.
"It's all over, Mrs. Thingummy!" said the surgeon at last.
"Ah, poor dear, so it is!" said the nurse, picking up the cork of the green bottle which had fallen out on the pillow as she stooped to take up the child. "Poor dear!"
"You needn't mind sending up to me, if the child cries, nurse," said the surgeon, putting on his gloves with great deliberation. "It's very likely it will be troublesome. Give it a little gruel7 if it is." He put on his hat, and, pausing by the bed-side on his way to the door, added "She was a good-looking girl, too; where did she come from?"
"She was brought here last night," replied the old woman, "by the overseer's order. She was found lying in the street. She had walked some distance, for her shoes were worn to pieces; but where she came from, or where she was going to, nobody knows."
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Product details
- ASIN : 0451529715
- Publisher : Signet; Reissue edition (April 5, 2005)
- Language : English
- Mass Market Paperback : 512 pages
- ISBN-10 : 9780451529718
- ISBN-13 : 978-0451529718
- Reading age : 18 years and up
- Item Weight : 8.5 ounces
- Dimensions : 4.19 x 0.8 x 6.81 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #834,206 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #10,289 in Coming of Age Fiction (Books)
- #21,094 in Classic Literature & Fiction
- #46,341 in Literary Fiction (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
About the authors
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Charles Dickens was born in 1812 near Portsmouth where his father was a clerk in the navy pay office. The family moved to London in 1823, but their fortunes were severely impaired. Dickens was sent to work in a blacking-warehouse when his father was imprisoned for debt. Both experiences deeply affected the future novelist. In 1833 he began contributing stories to newspapers and magazines, and in 1836 started the serial publication of Pickwick Papers. Thereafter, Dickens published his major novels over the course of the next twenty years, from Nicholas Nickleby to Little Dorrit. He also edited the journals Household Words and All the Year Round. Dickens died in June 1870.
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Reviewed in the United States on February 23, 2020
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Reviewed in the United States on February 23, 2020
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Please sir, may I have some more.
Is written like this with lots of words on one line then
two words
on next line then on and on and on making it difficult to read
I would
Not buy this again and I wish I could get my money back.
Top reviews from other countries

I have to take one star off for a few things. The art is generally very good. A few.minor flaws with proportion and perspective. I don't count it a mistake that Oliver is drawn to look ridiculously sweet and innocent, because honestly that's pretty much how Sickens wrote him.
There are a few changes in the story. It's not necessarily a problem that they left out the Monks subplot and Oliver being the heir to a fortune. But it's a bit strange how they said that Cabin was under thirty (a, he wasn't, he was an old man, and b, that's weirdly specific) and said that Mr. Sowerberry threw Oliver out instead of him running away. Also, that Oliver quickly realised Fagin and his boys were thieves, when in fact he didn't.
The final problem is that this was obviously written by someone who didn't speak English as a first language. There are numerous minor English errors that any native speaker of English could have fixed immediately.
But even with all these flaws the book is still well worth buying, and I can recommend it. It's a competent retelling of a beautiful tale, with lovely pictures. Children everywhere will enjoy reading it.
Besides which, I'm planning on giving it to my class as an English test, to see if they can spot all the mistakes!

The book is very much of its time, and although Dickens was acutely aware of poverty and class, he seemed to have a racial blind spot - still controversial to this day.



For most people, even if they have never read this before they will recognise a number of the characters, such as Oliver himself, Fagin, Artful Dodger, Bill Sikes, Nancy, the dog Bull’s Eye, and of course the beadle Mr Bumble. The story of course follows the character of the title, as we read of Oliver being born, how he got his name, and how he was given birth to in a workhouse. Taking in the conditions in such institutions and the baby farming that went on, along with the abuse of the system, so we can easily see that young Twist’s life is not an easy one.
As he grows so we read of trying to get him away from the workhouse by apprenticing him, and then his running away to London, where he falls in with certain characters of the underworld. There is certainly a lot of incident here as we read of plots against our hapless main character and the mystery surrounding his mother. Thus falling between those who are moral and those who are immoral so we see the machinations carried out by the latter to keep him on the path of criminalisation for devious purposes.
Taking in the inequalities of the period and the hypocrisy as well as greed of others, although we do see with the likes of the Artful Dodger certain characters of the criminal fraternity glamourizing their deeds, we also see what ends can be awaiting them. This book has always been a popular read, and for many of us this is something that we often come back to, and if this is the first time you are going to read this then prepare to be impressed as you get caught up in the whole tale, although nowadays I should warn you that some of the scenes are a bit oversentimental.