I haven't read this since I was in grade school, and I was so surprised by how unremittingly grim it is. In Dickens (as in Shakespeare), the reader can almost always count on a comic character or situation to relieve the tragedy that is unfolding. I found nothing like that here. It's clear from the author's foreword that Dickens was enraged by the treatment of indigent orphans, and his anger is evident throughout. The psychological portraits, especially of Fagin (although oddly not of Oliver himself, who is fairly one-dimensional), are deeply textured.

Multimedia note: A high-school production of "Oliver!" that I saw as an elementary-school kid led me to read this the first time. After my second reading this year, I watched the 1968 film version and was appalled by its happy-go-lucky vibe: a complete misreading of the original.