I’m finished with Oliver Twist. Speedy, eh? Not so much, I just like a story with a happy ending, and since I don’t really know how Dickens plans to end his tale (I know, I may be the only person in the universe who hasn’t seen the musical or movie) I’ve decided to quit reading in a place where life is peachy-keen for our main character. So here’s how Chapter XXXII wraps up in my book:
It seemed like a good idea. Oliver is happily residing with two lovely ladies, who care deeply for him. There are no lies floating about, or dangers in the air. Just mutual respect, gratitude, and love. Dickens calls it “true felicity.” I call it, The End.
But, I just hope that maybe some future reader will see my directive and heed the advice. However, I couldn’t leave well enough alone. And sure enough, just a measly two chapters later Fagin and Monks are peaking in the window, spying on Oliver’s mid-study nap.
See, I told myself, so.