It was a foggy day in London, and the fog was heavy and dark. Animate London, with smarting eyes and irritated lungs, was blinking, wheezing, and choking; inanimate London was a sooty spectre, divided in purpose between being visible and invisible, and so being wholly neither. Gaslights flared in the shops with a haggard and unblest air, as knowing themselves to be night-creatures that had no business abroad under the sun; while the sun itself, when it was for a few moments dimly indicated through circling eddies of fog, showed as if it had gone out, and were collapsing flat and cold.

Reading a Dickens novel is like stepping into a bath that is already piping hot - even if you've read many of his other books before, it still takes a moment to adjust, to settle into the pace, and begin the process of memorising its large cast of characters as well as starting to work out the connections between each of the various plots. I completely understand why this puts people off and why some readers give up within the first hundred pages, but, regardless of how overwhelming all of that can be, I love his books so much.

Our Mutual Friend was Dickens' final completed novel and, knowing that, it really does feel like a crescendo that highlights all of his strengths, demonstrates his development and growth over the years, and it just feels like a perfect farewell to one of the greatest writers of all time. It features some of his finest characters such as Eugene Wrayburn, Lizzie Hexam, Bradley Headstone, and the Boffins, it is a balanced blend of dark grittiness and twinkling humour, and the story itself unfolds so beautifully and, even though there's so much going on, it didn't lose me for one minute - I was completely engaged from page one.

The social commentary in this book is especially sharp, even for a Dickens, and, while he can be scathing about the follies and vapidity of society, his work also exudes so much love for the human condition. I think that Dickens despaired with society many times and in many ways, but he never completely succumbed to absolute pessimism and cynicism - he saw the charm and the tragedy, the flaws and the beauty, and there is so much hope in his books.

While I don't think this one quite surpasses the brilliance of Bleak House or Little Dorrit for me, Our Mutual Friend is a masterpiece and a perfect final novel.