Real Diehard Dickens Readers Celebrate His Birthday in Monthly Serialized Installments
"Happy Birthday" Sung in Small Bits Throughout the Year
Harkening back to a publishing practice of the Victorian era, Charles Dickens’ most dedicated readers celebrate his birthday all throughout the year in monthly serialized installments.
In fact, friends and family of the author would keep to the custom even when old Boz was still alive, celebrating the day of his birth over a period of many weeks or months.
Cakes were slowly consumed until they were stale or inedible, presents delivered piece by piece until the enthusiasm was lost. “Happy Birthday” would go on ad infinitum, a verse sang every few weeks or so.
Cakes were slowly consumed until they were stale or inedible, presents delivered piece by piece until the enthusiasm was lost. “Happy Birthday” would go on ad infinitum, a verse sung every few weeks or so.
Dickens would regret his decision to publish his novels—most notably Nicholas Nickleby, David Copperfield, and Bleak House—in monthly parts following a specific formula developed by his publishers following the accidental success of The Pickwick Papers.
Appearing in 20 parts over the span of 19 months, each issue contained 32 pages of letter press, two illustrations, and a few advertisements, all bound in a cheap green paper that went for about a shilling each.
His friends assumed Charles was more freakshow than frugal, deciding the author had some sort of obsessive-compulsive order where all things in his life had to be painstakingly slow and carried out in increments.
It wasn’t true, however; his publisher wanted to cover their expenses and was just too cheap to pay him for his novel all at once!
History looks back at him as some sort of mad publishing genius, creating demand and excitement for each part of his story. In fact, Dickens hated the scheduled release dates and payment plan, wishing he could just all of his money upfront so he could buy a bunch of candles, or a lot of opium, or whatever Victorians purchased when they were flush with cash.
Unfortunately, family assumed he was possessed by these small details and lived his entire life by a meticulous release schedule.
Letters were sent to him addendum, with important details and additional material being withheld to the very end. Visits were phased and piecemeal, with guests sometime abruptly getting up in the middle of a conversation forcing him to wait until another visit next month. Birthdays were celebrated throughout the year, sometimes overlapping into one another.
Even his illicit affair with 18-year-old actress Ellen Ternan was carried out gradually and gradationally, “the piece of ass” delivered in sequential pieces.
The relationship with Ternan would destroy his marriage and even his divorce from his wife Catherine was dragged out for the remainder of their lives.
And even in death, Dickens suffered for 5 long hellish years from various illnesses and symptoms until a neglected diagnosis of parietal-temporal disorder led to a stroke causing his death in 1870.
Can’t the guy just have something all at once, just one quick thing in its complete totality?
For Dickens, it is not to be. In fact, even his most ardent and avid fans find it hard to read Hard Times, Dickens’ shortest novel at 352 pages, in one sitting.
So this year, let’s do the guy a favor he was never afforded in his life and sing “Happy Birthday” together one time through.
“Happy Birth—
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