One of the most lovely books that made me cry was Dombey and Son by Charles Dickens.
I did not read any classics until I was in my twenties and then I read A Christmas Carol, it was so scary. I had only seen the film which was scary enough but the film could not compare to the book.
After that I read The Pickwick Papers which are so funny and Mr Pickwick is such a funny character that I just fell in love with Dickens style of writing. After that there was no stopping me I read Bleak House which actually started the movement against child labour in England, Oliver. Great Expectations, Nicolas Nickelby, A tale of two cities and then finally the fantastic Dombey and Son.
It is a book about a man who is obsessed with having a son, he is so strict and cold towards his first born child a little girl called Florence and he shuns and humiliates her at every turn. Of course it could still be relevant today, but it is written in Victorian London. He causes her love to go abroad and treats this very good, kind hearted girl too all all sorts of pain and agony. You hate him,well I did and of course you want him to get his come-uppance In a way he does but not in a nice way. I don't know if I should reveal the end of the book, but it was so beautifully written and Dickens kept true to his character Florence that you can't help cry when the final chapter is done. I have put the final words of the book here, you will have to read it to understand why it is a remarkable ending.
You must read this book.
But no one, except Florence, knows the measure of the white-haired gentleman's affection for the girl. That story never goes about. The child herself almost wonders at a certain secrecy he keeps in it. He hoards her in his heart. He cannot bear to see a cloud upon her face. He cannot bear to see her sit apart. He fancies that she feels a slight, when there is none. He steals away to look at her, in her sleep. It pleases him to have her come, and wake him in the morning. He is fondest of her and most loving to her, when there is no creature by. The child says then, sometimes:
`Dear grandpapa, why do you cry when you kiss me?'
He only answers, `Little Florence! Little Florence!' and smooths away the curls that