It's a little ironic that one of the first of many Christmas Carol knockoffs should be written by Charles Dickens himself. Unfortunately for Mr. Dickens, it does not hold up. In fact, this short story is a combination of all the worst impulses of Dickens' prose. From the moral (and religiosity) that feels like it's being jack-hammered into your skull, to the single woman's only trait being her unbelievable perfect goodness, to the tropes of characters and the odd humor. This story truly fails on all accounts besides being of course very readable.

It's a pity that Dickens doesn't seem in this story to understand what made A Christmas Carol work so well. Perhaps we can forgive him, since that question is hard to answer to some extent. But as the author, I should hope he'd have known! Alas Dickens, not your best but I still love you.