{"product_id":"great-expectations-isbn-9780141439563","title":"Great Expectations","description":"\u003cb\u003e'\u003ci\u003eGreat Expectations\u003c\/i\u003e is up there for me with the world's greatest novels' Howard Jacobson. \u003cb\u003eNominated as one of America’s best-loved novels by PBS’s \u003ci\u003eThe Great American Read\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCharles Dickens's \u003ci\u003eGreat Expectations\u003c\/i\u003e charts the course of orphan Pip Pirrip's life as it is transformed by a vast, mysterious inheritance. A terrifying encounter with the escaped convict Abel Magwitch in a graveyard on the wild Kent marshes; a summons to meet the bitter, decrepit Miss Havisham and her beautiful, cold-hearted ward Estella at Satis House; the sudden generosity of a mysterious benefactor - these form a series of events that change the orphaned Pip's life forever, and he eagerly abandons his humble station as an apprentice to blacksmith Joe Gargery, beginning a new life as a gentleman. Charles Dickens's haunting late novel depicts Pip's education and development through adversity as he discovers the true nature of his identity, and his 'great expectations'.  This definitive version uses the text from the first published edition of 1861. It includes a map of Kent in the early nineteenth century, and appendices on Dickens's original ending and his working notes, giving readers an illuminating glimpse into the mind of a great novelist at work.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor more than seventy years, Penguin has been the leading publisher of classic literature in the English-speaking world. With more than 1,700 titles, Penguin Classics represents a global bookshelf of the best works throughout history and across genres and disciplines. Readers trust the series to provide authoritative texts enhanced by introductions and notes by distinguished scholars and contemporary authors, as well as up-to-date translations by award-winning translators.\"No story in the first person was ever better told.\"\u003cb\u003eCharles Dickens\u003c\/b\u003e was born on February 7, 1812, in Landport, Portsea, England. He died in Kent on June 9, 1870. The second of eight children of a family continually plagued by debt, the young Dickens came to know not only hunger and privation,but also the horror of the infamous debtors’ prison and the evils of child labor. A turn of fortune in the shape of a legacy brought release from the nightmare of prison and “slave” factories and afforded Dickens the opportunity of two years’ formal schooling at Wellington House Academy. He worked as an attorney’s clerk and newspaper reporter until his \u003ci\u003eSketches by Boz\u003c\/i\u003e (1836) and \u003ci\u003eThe Pickwick Papers\u003c\/i\u003e (1837) brought him the amazing and instant success that was to be his for the remainder of his life. In later years, the pressure of serial writing, editorial duties, lectures, and social commitments led to his separation from Catherine Hogarth after twenty-three years of marriage. It also hastened his death at the age of fifty-eight, when he was characteristically engaged in a multitude of work.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eDavid Trotter\u003c\/b\u003e is Quain Professor of English Language and Literature and Head of Department at University College London. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e Charlotte Mitchell\u003c\/b\u003e is Lecturer in English at University College London.Chapter I.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy father's family name being Pirrip, and my christian name Philip, my\u003cbr\u003einfant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than\u003cbr\u003ePip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI give Pirrip as my father's family name, on the authority of his tombstone\u003cbr\u003eand my sister – Mrs. Joe Gargery, who married the blacksmith. As I never saw\u003cbr\u003emy father or my mother, and never saw any likeness of either of them (for\u003cbr\u003etheir days were long before the days of photographs), my first fancies\u003cbr\u003eregarding what they were like, were unreasonably derived from their\u003cbr\u003etombstones. The shape of the letters on my father's, gave me an odd idea\u003cbr\u003ethat he was a square, stout, dark man, with curly black hair. From the\u003cbr\u003echaracter and turn of the inscription, \"Also Georgiana Wife of the Above,\"\u003cbr\u003eI drew a childish conclusion that my mother was freckled and sickly. To\u003cbr\u003efive little stone lozenges, each about a foot and a half long, which were\u003cbr\u003earranged in a neat row beside their grave, and were sacred to the memory of\u003cbr\u003efive little brothers of mine – who gave up trying to get a living exceedingly\u003cbr\u003eearly in that universal struggle – I am indebted for a belief I religiously\u003cbr\u003eentertained that they had all been born on their backs with their hands in\u003cbr\u003etheir trousers-pockets, and had never taken them out in this state of\u003cbr\u003eexistence.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOurs was the marsh country, down by the river, within as the river wound,\u003cbr\u003etwenty miles of the sea. My first most vivid and broad impression of the\u003cbr\u003eidentity of things, seems to me to have been gained on a memorable raw\u003cbr\u003eafternoon towards evening. At such a time I found out for certain, that\u003cbr\u003ethis bleak place overgrown with nettles was the churchyard; and that Philip\u003cbr\u003ePirrip, late of this parish, and also Georgiana wife of the above, were\u003cbr\u003edead and buried; and that Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobias, and\u003cbr\u003eRoger, infant children of the aforesaid, were also dead and buried; and\u003cbr\u003ethat the dark flat wilderness beyond the churchyard, intersected with dykes\u003cbr\u003eand mounds and gates, with scattered cattle feeding on it, was the marshes;\u003cbr\u003eand that the low leaden line beyond was the river; and that the distant\u003cbr\u003esavage lair from which the wind was rushing, was the sea; and that the\u003cbr\u003esmall bundle of shivers growing afraid of it all and beginning to cry, was\u003cbr\u003ePip.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Hold your noise!\" cried a terrible voice, as a man started up from among\u003cbr\u003ethe graves at the side of the church porch. \"Keep still, you little devil,\u003cbr\u003eor I'll cut your throat!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA fearful man, all in coarse grey, with a great iron on his leg. A man with\u003cbr\u003eno hat, and with broken shoes, and with an old rag tied round his head. A\u003cbr\u003eman who had been soaked in water, and smothered in mud, and lamed by\u003cbr\u003estones, and cut by flints, and stung by nettles, and torn by briars; who\u003cbr\u003elimped, and shivered, and glared and growled; and whose teeth chattered in\u003cbr\u003ehis head as he seized me by the chin.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Oh! Don't cut my throat, sir,\" I pleaded in terror. \"Pray don't do it,\u003cbr\u003esir.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Tell us your name!\" said the man. \"Quick!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Pip, sir.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Once more,\" said the man, staring at me. \"Give it mouth!\"","brand":"Penguin Classics","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46299794571493,"sku":"NP9780141439563","price":11.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780141439563.jpg?v=1767728462","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/great-expectations-isbn-9780141439563","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}