I was reading Bleak House on the train the other day, as I do, when the man sitting next to me commented on it. Nothing particularly profound - "Great book," I believe he said. I agreed. We didn't settle into a conversation, mostly because I don't think he intended to really interrupt my reading of said-great book, and because I was inclined to keep reading as well. Also, this is New York City. I think the gruff, closed-off attitude is overhyped, but small talk on the train isn't terribly common, either. (This man had luggage, which undoubtedly was filled with awesome books.)
Anyway, as the train approached this man's stop, he mentioned that I should read Drood, which he praised highly. As I like to think someone who appreciates Bleak House knows his stuff, and because I wanted to read Drood anyway, I think this sounds like a fine suggestion.
Although I don't do a very good job keeping up with modern fiction, I read a great review of Drood (by Dan Simmons, for the record) a few months back and title stuck in my head. I mean, Dickens? Good. Mystery? Good. Great review? Well, good, hopefully.
It seems like it could be helpful/interesting to read Dickens's The Mystery of Edwin Drood first, but I think I'm going to find it very hard to get completely invested in a story without an end. Terribly frustrating. Drood, however, is 100% complete is far as I know, which is certainly another point in its favor.
I'm in the home stretch on Bleak House: 150 pages to go; I anticipate I'll be back to write about it later this week.
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