Looking In The Mirror And Seeing The Poetic Young Blogger

I have a feeling that I have said this before, but I will say it again. Indeed I will carry on saying it until someone takes heed of what I am saying. I will repeat myself again and again, without rest or repose, until the cows return home, unpack their suitcases, settle down for the night by a warm fire, and nod off in front of yet another repeat episode of All Creatures Great And Small. I will say it with a certainty that is unsullied by doubt and untouched by even the faintest possibility of contradiction. Charles Dickens invented blogging. There, I have said it, but just in case those momentous words somehow got lost amongst the lettered apostles that walk with them, let me say it again : Charles Dickens invented blogging.

Whilst this is not the place to assemble evidence or construct fine arguments, all you need to do is to reflect on how Dickens worked.  Those stories divided up into neat little weekly packages were nothing but the first entries in some Victorian meme. Those descriptions in which the prose drips with vibrant words are his submission to Theme Thursday or Creative Tuesday or even Sepia Saturday. Dickens may not have known it, but he was a born blogger. Dickens may not be celebrated for it, but he invented blogging. So let us imagine CD's blog post for today. Let us imagine that he was describing the typical blogger : describing you, describing me, describing himself. The following few sentences are taken from the chapter on "The Poetic Young Gentleman" from "Sketches by Boz" All I have done is substitute "the blogger" for "the poetic young gentleman". It's like looking in a mirror!

"The favourite attitude of the blogger is lounging on a sofa with his eyes fixed upon the ceiling, or sitting bolt upright in a high-backed chair, staring with very round eyes at the opposite wall. When he is in one of these positions, his mother, who is a worthy, affectionate old soul, will give you a nudge to bespeak your attention without disturbing the abstracted one, and whisper with a shake of the head, that John’s imagination is at some extraordinary work or other, you may take her word for it". 

"The blogger is fond of quoting passages from his favourite authors, who are all of the gloomy and desponding school. He has a great deal to say too about the world, and is much given to opining, especially if he has taken anything strong to drink, that there is nothing in it worth living for. He gives you to understand, however, that for the sake of society, he means to bear his part in the tiresome play, manfully resisting the gratification of his own strong desire to make a premature exit; and consoles himself with the reflection, that immortality has some chosen nook for himself and the other great spirits whom earth has chafed and wearied".

"When the blogger makes use of adjectives, they are all superlatives. Everything is of the grandest, greatest, noblest, mightiest, loftiest; or the lowest, meanest, obscurest, vilest, and most pitiful. He knows no medium: for enthusiasm is the soul of poetry; and who so enthusiastic as a blogger?"