Then there was George Chuzzlewit, a gay bachelor cousin, who claimed to be young but had been younger, and was inclined to corpulency, and rather over-fed himself: to that extent, indeed, that his eyes were strained in their sockets, as if with constant surprise; and he had such an obvious disposition to pimples, that the bright spots on his cravat, the rich pattern on his waistcoat, and even his glittering trinkets, seemed to have broken out upon him, and not to have come into existence comfortably.
I’ve been listening to a free
Librivox audiobook of Charles Dickens’ Martin Chuzzlewit at work. The quality of the narration and recording is better than I expected. Apparently,
Martin Chuzzlewit isn’t one of Dickens’ most popular works, but even so I’ve really enjoyed the rich, wordy greatness of passages like the one above. Worth a listen!