In Which I Read David Copperfield

This evening I went late to a birthday party because I needed to finish reading David Copperfield, like a bougie little weirdo.

l had laughed out loud at the antics of Betsy Trotwood and Mr. Dick. I cheered silently when I heard her tell one of the villains of the story—Miss Murdstone—to vacate her home at once or she’d rip off her bonnet and step on it.

I tightened my fists as I listened on my morning run to the smarmy machinations of Uriah Heep. I wondered if he might be the subject of that They Might Be Giants song called “Turn Around,” which talks about an unnamed cadaver which, when reanimated, “had the same obsequious manner/which was the reason I had him killed.”

I also thought I recognized the template of Wodehouse’s famous Jeeves in the infamous Mr. Litimer.

But when Daniel Pegotty went looking for his adopted niece, Little Em’ly, promising only dogged searching and complete forgiveness, I just sobbed. I cried so much I had to stick my face in a bowl of ice water to shock my system into pulling some of the tears back in, for safekeeping.

That’s the way, Pegotty. That’s the way. Keep the candle in the window, and keep searching every public house until you find the one.

What’s the last classic you read and enjoyed?