“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” is one of the most recognizable lines in literature. Long after its release in 1859,  A Tale of Two Cities remains one of the best-selling novels ever. Divided into three parts–Book One, Book Two, and Book Three–Charles Dickens’s classic follows several intertwined lives. It stars Doctor Manette, a father reunited with his daughter after eighteen years of imprisonment, Charles Darnay, a French émigré who renounces his aristocratic lineage, and Sydney Carton, a gifted lawyer whose self-destructive tendencies fuel his belief that he has wasted his life. 

 

The novel is renowned for its harrowing portrayal of the conditions leading to the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror, including the iconic scene in which French peasants lick spilled wine from the streets. But whether you’re reading the  three-hundred-page version or the  four-hundred-fifty page one, there’s a crucial element that the novel lacks. Not even its iconic opening and closing monologues can mask the fact of the matter: A Tale of Two Cities lacks an engaging plot. Frankly, this makes the novel overrated.

 

The novel drags–Dickens takes far too long to set the story in motion. Book One is filled with lengthy descriptions detailing  Doctor Manette’s release from prison and his temporary lodging above a wine shop. The only significant plot event is the reunion between Doctor Manette and his daughter, but even that fails to catalyze any meaningful events. The opening monologue may draw readers in, but an overemphasis on scene-setting forces readers to trudge through page after page until Book One finally ends.

To call Dickens’s novel wordy would be an understatement. A Tale of Two Cities clocks in at roughly 130,000 words, while most novels of similar page count hover around 100,000. Even for the grandiose nineteenth-century style, where writers favored ornate prose over direct statements of time and place, Dickens uses far more words than necessary to make his point. The aforementioned wine scene may be rich in symbolism, but the first half of that chapter is only tangentially related to the plot–simply because it takes place outside the wine shop. Even worse, not a single event occurs in the entire first chapter! Instead, the chapter is devoted to outlining the conditions of pre-revolutionary England and France, setting the scene like a Shakespearean prologue rather than a narrative. What happened to the English-class adage that the story should start with a hook? Besides the first paragraph, Chapter One devolves into a rambling exposition that could’ve been sprinkled in throughout the novel,  allowing readers to immerse themselves within the story rather than slog through a history lesson. 

 

The strongest works of fiction balance the literary triad: plot-driven momentum, character-driven depth, and thematic resonance. But A Tale of Two Cities leans too heavily on theme at the expense of the other two. Instead of a deeper exploration into Darnay's motivations for renouncing his lineage, or an examination of the factors that influenced Carton’s self-destructive behavior, Dickens devotes pages to reiterating his themes. While his flagship work brilliantly underscores the brutality of revolution, as well as enduring ideas of revenge and sacrifice so influential that Christopher Nolan cited them as inspiration for The Dark Knight Rises, themes alone have propelled the book to stardom. When stripped to its fundamental elements of plot progression and character depth, the novel offers surprisingly little–save for Carton’s closing monologue. 

 

None of this is to say you should avoid A Tale of Two Cities altogether. In fact, I highly encourage you to read it and form your opinion. But if you’re not a fan of flowery language and dense passages, don’t get your hopes up.

 

Still determined to read Dickens? Give Great Expectations a try. While it still lacks the brevity needed to keep a reader hooked, the story of Pip’s rise from an orphan into gentility and the hard-learned lessons along the way make for a much more emotionally resonant and narratively satisfying classic. Its balancing of plot, character, and theme surpass A Tale of Two Cities with ease. 

 

If you want to read two great books that master all three elements of the literary triad, consider The Kite Runner and The Covenant of Water. Both feature gripping plots, immersive characters, and themes that linger long after closing the final page. They’re also far more recent than 1859, employing succinct, contemporary writing that modern readers will find easier and more enjoyable to digest.

 

Whichever of the three you choose, you’re sure to have a page-turner on your hands.