The Mystery of Charles Dickens... um, I mean, Edwin Drood: A Review

Every summer I start reading my yearly Dickens novel and I wonder "will this novel be better than the others?" Sometimes, as was the case with Oliver Twist and Nicholas Nickleby, the answer was that there are Dickens novels worthier of the reader's time. More often than not, my conclusion is that Dickens is a genius and deserves all the praise that he gets. In my mind, none of Dickens' novels could ever compare with Bleak House and Little Dorrit, and frankly they will always be the Dickens standard for me.

Upon beginning The Mystery of Edwin Drood about a month ago, I struggled with Dickens the same way that I always do. It normally takes me the first hundred pages or so to get into the style and language, and gradually enjoy the novel more as the pages pass. The problem with Edwin Drood is that there isn't much beyond the first hundred pages; Charles Dickens never had the luxury of finishing this novel. He died in June of 1870, halfway through writing Edwin Drood.

The main plot can be boiled down to a single sentence. Edwin Drood disappears, presumably murdered, but the clues surrounding his disappearance are scarce. It is unusual that a Dickens novel can be so concisely summarized, but all the clues that Dickens gives us, before and after Edwin's disappearance, all points toward the culprit. Of course, there is much more to the story than just the murder -- it wouldn't be a Dickens novel without characters' fate being interwoven.

But here's the most amazing thing about this novel: even though Dickens never finished it, I can speak with absolute certainty on who murdered Edwin. That's the fantastic thing about Dickens. Not a single paragraph is unnecessary in a Dickens novel; every character and every minute, over-detailed description has a unique, crucial purpose. (All of this is even more amazing when you realize that Dickens submitted his novels for publication in installments before he even finished them. He couldn't go back and add a little detail here and there to make everything connect.) Almost before Edwin even disappeared, I could have told you who was going to kill him and where his dead body could be found. The murder scene was never described, but all the clues are clearly visible for the reader to piece the puzzle together. But what is even more amazing is that you don't realize that you're being handed pieces to the puzzle until you really sit and think about it and everything falls into place. Suddenly, the chapters about the opium house, the odd old woman, and the cathedral crypt are not as seemingly random as they seem. And when the last pieces of the puzzle are put into place, the picture on top is nothing less than astonishing.

Upon finishing Edwin Drood, I sent my best friend a text something to the effect of "Charlie died at a really inopportune time." This novel had the potential of being his best novel, in my opinion, but nobody knows word-for-word how it would have ended. But upon considering the "seemingly random" details, I realized that he finished enough of the novel that it isn't as "inopportune" as one might think. There are minor details which are up for speculation, like whom marries whom, but for the most part he answers all the important questions. Had he died a chapter sooner, a major detail would have been left unaddressed. Of course, it would have been nice to read more but death can only be controlled on the pages of fiction.

This is why Dickens is a literary genius. How many authors can weave such a masterful tale, let alone leave it unfinished but gift the audience with all the clues that they need? He says nothing definitely, and yet he doesn't need to. His manner of laying out a novel and stating the facts allows the reader put two and two together on his own. That, I believe, is a remarkable achievement. Dickens uses the reader's intelligence to his advantage, and solves the mystery without even finishing the book.

The moral to this story is don't judge a book by it's cover. Or in this case, don't ignore The Mystery of Edwin Drood because Dickens died before finishing it. This is, without a doubt, one of Dickens' greatest accomplishments as an author. Despite the fact that we only have half the story, it deserves to be on the list of great Dickens novels because it was left unfinished and it is still perfection. He didn't need 800 pages to create a masterpiece like he did in Bleak House. He only needed 250 pages to simultaneously produce a masterpiece and the greatest cliffhanger of all time. Only Dickens could have made a mystery out of a mystery novel.

One more stop in Reading Europe 2016. Back to the Continent!