“I have in my heart of hearts a favorite child.  And his name is David Copperfield.”  That’s what Charles Dickens said in the preface of his famous novel and I believe he meant it.  History didn’t record how his wife or his ten human children reacted to the statement (that would have been a Jerry Springer show in the making!) but, as sad as the remark probably made them, I doubt if they were surprised.  A large amount of fiction comes from the writer’s re-imagination of his or her own past and much of the novel David Copperfield can be traced to the life of Charles Dickens.  The transfiguration of those experiences in David Copperfield redeemed a lot of the author’s own childhood. It also made a much-loved book.

Every fan of fiction knows Charles Dickens had an unsettled childhood.  His father was always in debt and the family moved continually, trying to avoid Dad’s creditors.  That ended when his father was thrown into debtor’s prison and all of the family (except 12 year old Charles and his slightly older sister) were incarcerated there for a time.  His sister managed to stay in her school but his parents forced Charles to leave his studies and go to work in a shoe polish factory to support himself.  Charles Dickens never got over the humiliation of those experiences or the anger at his mother for trying to keep him in the factory after the family got financial relief and freedom.  After his father tried to capitalize on the adult son’s fame (borrowing from his son’s friends and publishers) Charles banished his parents to the country.

Those experiences found their way into David Copperfield. Dickens’s  father becomes two characters, the terrible Mr. Murdstone who forces his orphaned step-son, David into child labor and the likeable, irresponsible spend-thrift, Micawber with his financial advice and unfounded optimism that “something will turn up.”  By splitting the sin from the sinner, Dickens managed to write of his father with some remaining affection. (Since the Micawber ends up becoming one of the unlikely heroes of the story, a suspicious reader might infer a lot of fatherly affection remained with the author, despite his father’s profligate ways.)

Reality seeps through the fiction in other ways.  Dickens examines his own experience as an impoverished child laborer in the book and the unrelenting shame he felt about that episode.  Like his creator, David is embarrassed about his familiarity with pawnbrokers, rats and extreme poverty and once firmly past it, he keeps it a secret from his new friends but fear of poverty fuels the ambition in both hero and author.  Reality also makes David Copperfield a more identifiable protagonist than some of the author’s earlier heroes like Nicholas Nickelby or Martin Chuzzlewit.  David makes mistakes the earlier protagonists avoid, like drinking too much in the chapter, “My First Dissipation (The line, “‘Agnes!’ I said. “‘I’mafraidyou’renorwell.'” is terribly funny) and falling for all the wrong people but that’s because David Copperfield, like Charles Dickens is human.  The novel’s weakest spot is that the David’s “right people” are still too impossibly good to be believable but Mr. Dickens was still developing as a writer at this point.  If you want a Dickens heroine that isn’t a saint, you’ll have to pick up Great Expectations.  That’s further down the line.

Yes, David Copperfield‘s an old-fashioned novel.  It has a million characters with silly names and everything works out for the best.  But that’s part of the art of story, creating redemption through imagination and giving everyone a “good enough” ending. It’s a way to resolve some old issues and keep alive those that we miss.  There’s the life that we had and the life we wish we had and fiction connects the two.  Blessed be the fiction that binds.