One Christmas, perhaps I was nine or ten years old, we had very little under our tree. Mother had been in the mental hospital that fall, and all our money had gone for that. We had a gift exchange (not sure if that was at school or at home, memory fails me) and I received a ceramic pixie, in red and green, a delightful little figurine.
Christmas morning, I found one package under the tree, in the shape of a book, to my joy. It was Great Expectations, and I never had a better Christmas. To my heart this is the best of all Dickens' works, but I am highly prejudiced in this matter, as it was my first experience of him. The magical tragical Miss Havisham, The Convict, the temperamental Estella, and of course, Pip himself, enchanted me and absorbed me.
When I am reading fiction that is of this calibre, I hate to have to leave the world it evokes. Now the movie is on Turner Classic Movies, and I am grateful.