Whenever Charles Dickens is introduced in a film or on television, I cringe. As a man who owns two and a half complete sets of Dickens (one published in 1898), it’s disheartening to see writers go for the easy references and avoid the fact that Dickens was a far more complex figure than people know him as (his lifelong affair with Ellen Lawless Ternan, for example, had considerable influence on his work).

However, the most recent Doctor Who episode, “The Unquiet Dead,” demonstrates a surprising familiarity with the great Boz’s material:

COACH DRIVER: Everything in order, Mr. Dickens?
DICKENS: No, it is not.
THE DOCTOR: What did he say?
DICKENS: Let me say this first. I’m not without a sense of humor.
THE DOCTOR: Dickens?
DICKENS: Yes.
THE DOCTOR: Charles Dickens?
DICKENS: Yes.
THE DOCTOR: The Charles Dickens?
COACH DRIVER: Should I remove the gentleman, sir?
THE DOCTOR: Charles Dickens! You’re brilliant, you are! Completely 100% brilliant! I’ve read ’em all! Great Expectations, Oliver Twist. And what’s the other one? The…the one with the ghost?
DICKENS: “A Christmas Carol?”
THE DOCTOR: No, no, no. The one with the trains. “The Signal-Man!” That’s it! Terrifying! The best short story ever written. You’re a genius!
COACH DRIVER: Do you want me to get rid of him sir?
DICKENS: Uh, no. I think he can stay.
THE DOCTOR: Honestly, Charles…can I call you Charles? I’m such a big fan!
DICKENS: Wh..wh..wh..what? A big what?
THE DOCTOR: Fan! Number one fan! That’s me.
DICKENS: How exactly are you a fan? In what way, do you resemble a means of keeping one’s self cool?
THE DOCTOR: No, it means “fanatic.” Devoted to you. Mind you, for God’s sake, the American bit in Martin Chuzzlewit, what’s that about? Was that just padding? Or what? I mean, it’s rubbish, that bit.
DICKENS: I thought you said you were my fan.
THE DOCTOR: Well, if you can’t take criticism. Come on! Do the death of Little Nelly! It cracks me up!

For any Dickens afficianado, the last piece of dialogue is particularly amusing, for It invokes Oscar Wilde, who famously remarked, “One must have a heart of stone to read the death of Little Nell without laughing.”

It’s good to know that there are some writers out there working in television who pay attention to these things.

As widely reported at other places, Lee Samantha Chang will be Frank Conroy’s replacement as the director of the University of Iowa Writers’ Workshop. Maud links to an interview with Robert Birnbaum, whereby Chang revealed that she found her calling as a writer almost entirely by accident.

And back in February, the erstwhile Max provided some inside details on Chang’s “audition.”

Andrea Dworkin has died. She was 59 years old. The cause of her death was unknown.

Dworkin was one of the more vocal and radical of feminists. In 1983, she drafted a law that set up pornography as a civil rights violation against women. And while it was easy to caricature her, as this Michael Moorcock interview with her notes, her positions were often more nuanced than her most gave her credit for.

Personally, I’ll miss Dworkin. Even if I didn’t always agree with her, there was a determination and a tenacity within Dworkin that I admired. While everyone else was retreating from the gender divide in a post-ERA world, Dworkin kept fighting without abandoning the points she wanted to make, even when she was ridiculed, sometimes unfairly, in the process.

The news that Paris Hilton is going to play Daisy Buchanan in an upcoming film version of The Great Gatsby might seem horrifying to some — until we remember the fact that Daisy Buchanan was rich, ditsy and superficial. And so is Paris Hilton.

Even if Paris Hilton simply shows up to the set, this is nothing less than perfect casting.

Here are a few reasons why Paris Hilton will succeed in the role of Daisy Buchanan:

The other girl, Daisy, made an attempt to rise–she leaned slightly
forward with a conscientious expression–then she laughed, an absurd,
charming little laugh, and I laughed too and came forward into the
room.

“I’m p-paralyzed with happiness.” She laughed again, as if she said something very witty, and held my hand for a moment, looking up into my
face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted
to see. That was a way she had.

* * *

“Gatsby?” demanded Daisy. “What Gatsby?”

* * *

“Why CANDLES?” objected Daisy, frowning. She snapped them out with her fingers. “In two weeks it’ll be the longest day in the year.”

She looked at us all radiantly. “Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day in the year and then miss it.”

* * *

Perhaps Daisy never went in for amour at all–and yet there’s something in that voice of hers. . . .

* * *

Then from the living-room I heard a sort of choking murmur and part of a laugh, followed by Daisy’s voice on a clear artificial note: “I certainly am awfully glad to see you again.”

* * *

He hadn’t once ceased looking at Daisy, and I think he revalued
everything in his house according to the measure of response it drew
from her well-loved eyes.