Just a short preview, as it were, of my upcoming Christmas readings at the bookstore, tomorrow night. This is not actually from the scenes from
The Pickwick Papers I'll be reading then. This bit is from the first page of Chapter 28, when Dickens is addressing the reader directly about the power of Christmas, and memory, to comfort and unite us. (I thought reading Dickens in my nightshirt and robe was, somehow, not too much a problem, but please forgive the informality.)
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