In cloisteresque Cloisterham, John 'Jack' Jasper lives with his ward and nephew, Mister Edwin Drood, and teaches music to Drood's own betrothed-the beguiling Rosa. Meanwhile, arriving at Cloisterham, the Landless twins, Neville and Helena of exotic advantage, cause a disruption to the quiet and monotonous lives of those in this Cathedral City.
Charles Dickens died before he could finish this novel. He wrote twenty-three chapters, each one carefully planned and written before giving it to be published in serial format, as were all his others. The Mystery of Edwin Drood
is indeed probably the greatest mystery of all, and we as readers and fans of Dickens must accept the fact.
It's a hard fact to accept, however. I cannot fully understand this feeling within me; not one I've felt after finishing (in-as-much as one can finish this book) any book, or at least very few
books. There is the obvious adoration for such a talented and captivating writer; there is the subdued anger that often Dickens can write so magnificently about nothing; there is the dismay at the knowledge that I knew it was unfinished when I went in; and of course there is the embarrassment of feeling let down despite of that fact.
What more can I say? It is Dickens. Do not start with this if you are new to him: but do not end with it, either. It may have been his last, but do not let it be yours.