Reader, Writer, Merciless Reviewer and Incurable Romantic
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I don't think I'm liking this book.
Except for the annoying present tense, it's quite Dickensian, but without the original Victorian acerbity. Dickens was preaching to people who didn't know any better and who were contemporaneous with the events he depicted. Biddle, on the other hand, offers a critique of a city and way of life that are safely in the past. The taint cannot possibly reach all the way from 1842 to . . . . today. Thank goodness.