In the literary world, monumental events will take place next year. One is the 50th anniversary of god Anthony Burgess’s novel, A Clockwork Orange. The other two are the release of another movie adaptation of Charles Dickens’ novel, Great Expectations, and Dickens’ 200th anniversary.
Recall that Burgess’s novel sparked infamy and inspired a cult following. It also presented to us a world of words like Moloko (oh, how those boys loved drinking their milk laced with alcohol for energy, ehrm, to wield violence) and Zemolchy. Remember, this is the movie that changed your mind about the positive vibes the song Singing in the Rain can grant one.
This site gives a glimpse of Burgess’s musical prowess. Unbeknownst to many, he was also a musician and wrote “more than 250 other musical works including a piano concerto, a ballet and stage musicals.” What a wonder.
The other power player is Charles Dickens. Author of well-loved creations as David Copperfield and A Christmas Carol, he was known in the publishing world during his time. Now, he is considered “the greatest writer of the Victorian period.”
With some of his passages bordering on sentimentality, Dickens makes up for it with his provision of iconic characters presented as wounded souls. Great Expectations is schizophrenic in a way for its having two endings: one stark, the other sentimental. Fast forward to next year with screenwriter David Nicholls presenting his adaptation with a “thriller” mood complete with a new ending! I wonder if this will cause Dickens to shift and turn in his grave.
Moreover, Dickens fans will certainly enjoy his home country’s commemoration of his 200th anniversary (while non-English fans like me will seethe in envy). This site says “prepare for a torrent of Dickens memorabilia. Dozens of new books, major exhibitions at the British Library (Dickens and the supernatural), The Victoria and Albert Museum (showing the original manuscript of David Copperfield) and the Museum of London (the author and his relationship with the capital).”
Disregarding limitations, I will enjoy the commemoration of the works of these two writers. In my own neck of the woods, I shall be toasting them with a carton of milk and a three-minute dance fest in front of the mirror channeling Mrs. Havisham. 2012 will be one crazy year indeed.
QUOTES
From A Clockwork Orange
We were all feeling a bit shagged and fagged and fashed, it being a night of no small expenditure
There was me, that is Alex, and my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie and Dim. And we sat in the Korova Milkbar, trying to make up our razudoks what to do with the evening. The Korova Milkbar sold milk-plus; milk plus vellocet or synthemesc or drencrom, which is what we were drinking. This would sharpen you up and get you ready for a bit of the old ultra-violence.
Oh bliss! Bliss and heaven! Oh, it was gorgeousness and gorgeousity made flesh. It was like a bird of rarest-spun heaven metal or like silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now. As I slooshied, I knew such lovely pictures.
Alex and his posse
From Great Expectations
Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but – I hope – into a better shape.
There was a long hard time when I kept far from me the remembrance of what I had thrown away when I was quite ignorant of its worth.
There either is or is not, that’s the way things are. The colour of the day. The way it felt to be a child. The saltwater on your sunburnt legs. Sometimes the water is yellow, sometimes it’s red. But what colour it may be in memory, depends on the day. I’m not going to tell you the story the way it happened. I’m going to tell it the way I remember it.
You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read, since I first came here, the rough common boy whose poor heart you wounded even then. You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since – on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets. You have been the embodiment of every graceful fancy that my mind has ever become acquainted with. The stones of which the strongest London buildings are made, are not more real, or more impossible to displace with your hands, than your presence and influence have been to me, there and everywhere, and will be. Estella, to the last hour of my life, you cannot choose but remain part of my character, part of the little good in me, part of the evil.
Mrs. Havisham's protege
what say you?