I have always loved the story of Oliver Twist.
I know that some of my readers may be scratching their heads right now, trying to figure me out. I’ve never tried to make it a secret that I don’t like reading Charles Dickens’ books.
And no, I don’t love reading Dickens. In fact, Oliver Twist is the first of his books I’ve ever made it all the way through, and that only because I felt I needed to read the actual book in order to write a faithful retelling of it.
But I do love Dickens’ stories. I love his characters. What I don’t love is when he spends 6 pages describing a room only to have the character step inside, look around, and promptly leave… never to return to said room.
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