Dickens' second important book (after Sketches by Boz), and first novel, The Pickwick Papers is a real delight. A comic travelogue that reminds me of a cross between Pynchon's Mason and Dixon and a particularly silly Jeeves short story, it's a book in which only the most minor things go wrong, characters' lives are primarily about meditation and misunderstanding, and one can easily understand why it caused a sensation in 1836, and how Dickens came about at just the right time to capture the public spirit with his own twist on the sentimental literature of the era. I probably wouldn't recommend this for newcomers to Dickens, who should go on to read his next work, Oliver Twist, but once you know you enjoy works from this era, this is a kind of warm sip of brandy for the soul. ( )

I'm setting this one aside and might try again another time. For now, it's just too tedious.

O Pickwick Club despacha o Sr. Pickwick e um grupo de amigos para viajarem pela Inglaterra e relatarem as coisas interessantes que encontrem. No decorrer das viagens, eles encontram repetidamente o amigável Sr. Jingle, de má reputação, que se torna uma fonte contínua de problemas para todos que o conhecem. O próprio Pickwick é vítima de uma série de mal-entendidos que lhe trazem constrangimentos e problemas com a lei. George Orwell, em seu ensaio sobre Dickens, diz que uns lamentam que ele descontinuasse romances cômicos como "Pickwick". É verdade que alguns (P G Wodehouse, por exemplo) produziram livros engraçados com sucesso o tempo todo. Mas teríamos perdido ¨Bleak house ¨e "Great Expectations" se Dickens permanecesse um comedi´ografo. ( )

Even Charles Dickens had a first book. This is it. Unlike virtually all his later works, Pickwick Papers has only the loosest of plots. It’s more the story of Mr. Pickwick and his travels. There are, to be sure, a few overarching story lines but mostly it is episodic. Most of the episodes work, but I also found a few chapters downright boring. Still, I imagine that an “abridged” Pickwick is anathema. In any event, Dickens is Dickens (which is, to my mind, a great compliment), even in his first book. The characters (and their names) are inimitable and indelible. The situations…Dickensian. And the ending, a tear-jerker. Some superb characters, some minor (such as Mr. Wardle) and certainly Pickwick himself and Sam Weller. Not among my favorites but I’m glad to have read it and don’t consider the time (it’s 800+ pages long) ill-spent—and often delightful. ( )

There are very few moments in a man's existence when he experiences so much ludicrous distress, or meets with so little charitable commiseration, as when he is in pursuit of his own hat.
(page 72)

Strongly illustrative of the Position, that the Course od True Love is not a Railway.
(page 135)

Can I view thee panting, lying
On thy stomach, without sighing;
Can I unmoved see thee dying
On a log
Expiring frog!

'Beautiful' said Mr. Pickwick.
'Fine,' said Mr. Leo Hunter; 'so simple.'
'Very,' said Mr. Pickwick.
(page 268)

Now, the screaming had subsided, and faces were in a glow. and curls in a tangle, and Mr. Pickwick, after kissing the old lady as before mentioned, was standing under the mistletoe, looking with a very pleased countenance on all that was passing around him, when the young lady with the black eyes, after a little whispering with the other young ladies, made a sudden dart forward, and, putting her arm round Mr. Pickwick's neck, saluted him affectionately on the left cheek; and before Mr. Pickwick distinctly knew what was the matter, he was surrounded by the whole body, and kissed by every one of them.
It was a pleasant thing to see Mr. Pickwick in the centre of the group, now pulled this way, and then that, and first kissed on the chin, and then on the nose, and then on the spectacles, and to hear the peals of laughter which were raised on every side;
(page 529)

'Severe weather, Sam,' observed Mr. Pickwick.
'Fine time for them as is well wropped up, as the Polar bear said to himself, ven he was practising his skating,' replied Mr Weller.
(page 547)

'The bis'ness, Samivel,' replied the old gentleman, 'good-vill, stock, and fixters, vill be sold by private contract; and out o' the money, two hundred pound, agreeable to a rekvest o' your mother-in-law's to me, a little afore she died, vill be invested in your name in - What do you call them things agin?'
'Wot things?' inquired Sam.
'Them things as is always a-goin' up and down, in the city.'
'Omnibuses?' suggested Sam.
'Nonsense,' replied Mr. Weller.
'Them things as is alvays a-fluctooatin', and gettin' theirselves inwolved somehow or another vith the national debt, and the chequers bill; and all that.'
'Oh! the funds,' said Sam.
'Ah!' rejoined Mr. Weller, 'the funs;
(page 968)

'... and all the rest o' my property, of ev'ry kind and description votsoever, to my husband, Mr. Tony Weller, who I appint as my sole eggzekiter.'
(page 1036)

'Remarkably so, indeed,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 'Very seasonable.'
'Seasonablest veather I ever see, sir,' rejoined Mr. Weller.
(page 1053)

'... The happiness of young people,' said Mr. Pickwick, a little moved, 'has ever been the chief pleasure of my life. It will warm my heart to witness the happiness of those friends who are dearest to me, benaeth my own roof.'
(page 1071)

Everything was so beautiful! The lawn in front, the garden behind, the miniature conservatory, the dining room, the drawing-room, the bedrooms, the smoking-room, and, above all, the study, with its pictures and easy-chairs, and odd cabinets, and queer tables, and books out of number, with a large cheerful window opening upon a pleasant lawn and commanding a pretty landscape, dotted here and there with little houses almost hidden by the trees; and then the curtains, and the carpets, and the chairs, and the sofas! Everything was so beautiful, so compact, so neat, and in such exquisite taste, said everybody, that there really was no deciding what to admire most.
And in the midst of all this, stood Mr. Pickwick, his countenance lighted up with smiles, which the heart of no man, woman, or child, could resist: himself the happiest of the group: ...'
(page 1074)

There are dark shadows on the earth, but its lights are stronger in the contrast. Some men, like bats or owls, have better eyes for the darkness than for the light. We, who have no such optical powers, are better pleased to take our last parting look at the visionary companions of many solitary hours, when the brief sunshine of the world is blazing full upon them.
(page 1075) ( )