This book reminded me why I should not read biographies of my favorite writers. What I learned from this book is that Dickens had an enormous generous streak, but was not someone to cross. And by "cross" I mean do something to anger him, including anything you may not be aware of. He could hold a grudge worth the best of them, including against his own children. It mostly depressed me. As to the style, I wasn't overly impressed. Mostly I felt like the author was just reciting a list of dates and publications, so it got boring at times.