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A Christmas Carol (Aladdin Classics Series)
     

A Christmas Carol (Aladdin Classics Series)

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by Charles Dickens, Nancy Farmer (Foreword by)
 

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Charles Dickens is probably the best-known and, to many people, the greatest English novelist of the nineteenth century. Since its publication in 1843, A Christmas Carol has been adapted for film, television, and the stage, proving that Dickens's characters and themes continue to captivate generation after generation.

Overview

Charles Dickens is probably the best-known and, to many people, the greatest English novelist of the nineteenth century. Since its publication in 1843, A Christmas Carol has been adapted for film, television, and the stage, proving that Dickens's characters and themes continue to captivate generation after generation.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9780689871801
Publisher:
Aladdin
Publication date:
10/01/2004
Series:
Aladdin Classics Series
Edition description:
Includes Reading Group Guide
Pages:
128
Product dimensions:
5.14(w) x 7.66(h) x 0.44(d)

Read an Excerpt

MARLEY was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it: and Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail.

Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners for I don't know how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend and sole mourner. And even Scrooge was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnised it with an undoubted bargain.

The mention of Marley's funeral brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet's Father died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turningout after dark in a breezy spot—say Saint Paul's Churchyard for instance—literally to astonish his son's weak mind.

Scrooge never painted out Old Marley's name. There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrooge and Marley. The firm was known as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people new to the business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names: it was all the same to him.

Oh! but he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shrivelled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue; and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dog-days; and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas.

External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could warm, nor wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn't know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often 'came down' handsomely, and Scrooge never did.

Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, 'My dear Scrooge, how are you? when will you come to see me?' No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle, no children asked him what it was 'oclock, no man or woman ever once in all his life inquired the way to such and such a place, of Scrooge. Even the blindmen's dogs appeared to know him; and when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners into doorways and up courts; and then would wag their tails as though they said, 'no eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!'

But what did Scrooge care? It was the very thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was what the knowing ones call 'nuts' to Scrooge.
Once upon a time—of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve—old Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house. It was cold, bleak, biting weather: foggy withal: and he could hear the people in the court outside, go wheezing up and down, beating their hands upon their breasts, and stamping their feet upon the pavement-stones to warm them. The city clocks had only just gone three, but it was quite dark already: it had not been light all day: and candles were flaring in the windows of the neighbouring offices, like ruddy smears upon the palpable brown air. The fog came pouring in at every chink and keyhole, and was so dense without, that although the court was of the narrowest, the houses opposite were mere phantoms. To see the dingy cloud come drooping down, obscuring everything, one might have thought that Nature lived hard by, and was brewing on a large scale.

The door of Scrooge's counting-house was open that he might keep his eye upon his clerk, who in a dismal little cell beyond, a sort of tank, was copying letters. Scrooge had a very small fire, but the clerk's fire was so very much smaller that it looked like one coal. But he couldn't replenish it, for Scrooge kept the coal-box in his own room; and so surely as the clerk came in with the shovel, the master predicted that it would be necessary for them to part. Wherefore the clerk put on his white comforter, and tried to warm himself at the candle; in which effort, not being a man of a strong imagination, he failed.


From the Audio Cassette edition.

Copyright 1986 by Charles Dickens

Meet the Author

Charles Dickens (1812-1870) is probably the greatest novelist England has ever produced, the author of such well-known classics as A Christmas Carol, Great Expectations, David Copperfield and Oliver Twist. His innate comic genius and shrewd depictions of Victorian life — along with his indelible characters — have made his books beloved by readers the world over.

Brief Biography

Date of Birth:
February 7, 1812
Date of Death:
June 18, 1870
Place of Birth:
Portsmouth, England
Place of Death:
Gad's Hill, Kent, England
Education:
Home-schooling; attended Dame School at Chatham briefly and Wellington

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A Christmas Carol Aladdin Classics Series) 5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 3 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Ok, I have read many books. Me and my little btother worship books. I own a sixteen foot book shelf!!!! Series of unfortunate events,(the whole series),harry potter,old yeller,mr popper's penguins. And this new series called Diary of a wimpy kid that kids like to read. So acouple mounths ago i read Diary of a wimpy kid the first. I liked well,LOVED,it. Please do not call me nerd. Call me BOOK WORM! People say i need to pull my head out of books and put your head into the real world. They say i need to watch the movies more often instead of the books. Better to read than to not succsed,i always say. Then at school when the teacher is teaching a lesson. I slip a book open and read for one to three minutes max. And then the lesson is don and i have now idea what to do for the lesson. Once that happend and i changed my saying up a little. Better read Than succsed! They may sound the same but the first time i said it i said "better to read than not succsed. The second time i said "better to read than to sucseed". But anyway. One day near christmas time. Iwas looking for a good book that had somthing to do with christmad. So i saw the word "A CHRISTMAS CAROL" i thoght it would be about christmas carolers and one of the carolers got sick and he got better but his voice sounded horrid. But aparently i was waaaaaaaaaayyy off. What does ghost and old men have to do with my guessing summary. Whoops! SPOILER ALERT!My bad. But anyway if you look at this page. It's BIG. That was kind of my goal so i could get in the world record book. But this goal has been broken alredy by a colige student. But at least i broke the record boringest pappet ever. Ashton C, Stubblefield
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
You may be a bit too young to read this. And you are exagerating. Its only one paragraph! And it is ONE page. I reccomend for you a book called The Search for Wondla.