Little Dorrit : With original illustrations

Rereading Little Dorrit this past summer, I was reminded of my diminutive maternal grandmother, born less than a decade after her "beloved Dickens" died, who liked nothing better than to spend wet afternoons reading his novels aloud to her granddaughters. I remember my mother, too, choking up over the last chapter of A Tale of Two Cites. But the tradition ended with me. I could never interest my own children in Dickens; they demanded Tolkien, or the television.

So I belong, I suppose, to the...