You guys, Martin Chuzzlewit made me laugh out loud today. There's a character named Mark Tapley who thinks that his cheerfulness does him no credit because his life is too easy, and so he is trying out ideas for amping up his suffering quotient. It's a hoot.
Dickens is savage in his descriptions of the Pecksniffs. Mr. Pecksniff reminds me of Bleak House's Mr. Chadband, only with unctuous malice instead of vacuity at his core. At least I suspect it's unctuous malice. I would love to chat about the Pecksniffs if anybody else is reading along.
I'm a little behind where I had planned to be, but there are no Martin Chuzzlewit police. And you know, I could hang out on Twitter reading about the coming apocalypse tonight, or I could climb in bed and read about kind-hearted Tom Pinch and a young man in need of redemption. Let's go with option B.