great expectations - egmont uk · 2020-03-11 · great expectations. with thanks/apologies to...
TRANSCRIPT
G R E ATE X P E C TAT I O N S
With thanks/apologies to Charles Dickens
First published in Great Britain in 2020 by Egmont UK Limited2 Minster Court, 10th floor, London EC3R 7BBText and illustrations copyright © 2020 Jack Noel
The moral rights of the author and illustrator have been assertedISBN 978 1 4052 9404 1
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library70145/001
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original story by CHarlEs DiCKEns abriDgED by liZ banKEs DEsignED anD illustratED by JaCK noEl EDitED by liZ banKEs
witH luCy CourtEnay art-DirECtion by liZZiE garDinEr witH MargarEt HoPE ProDuCtion CHarlottE CooPEr anD tEaM
forEign rigHts JuliEttE ClarK anD tEaM salEs Jas fyfE, Dan DownHaM anD tEaM PublisHEr ali Dougal
agEnt ClairE wilson witH MiriaM tobin at rCw sPECial tHanKs to CHarlottE KnigHt
A N O L D B O O K B Y
C H A R L E S D I C K E N SW I T H N E W D O O D L E S B Y
JAC K N O E L
The forge(I live here)
Graveyard(Mum and Dad
live here)
The Three Jolly Bargemen
(the village pub)
The Marshes(Some cows live here)
Church
Prison ships
Satis House(Miss Havisham
lives here. It's fancy.)
TO LONDON!
The seaMY VILLAGE
MY SISTER
ME
(PIP)
PHILIP PIRRIP,
late of this parish,Georgianawife of the above,
☜
NAME:
AGE:
LOCATION:
LIFE PLANS:
Philip Pirrip
Twelve
I live in the blacksmith's forge with my sister
Mrs Joe and her husband Joe, the blacksmith
Joe says I'll be a blacksmith like him when
I grow up, but sometimes I think there
might be adventures waiting for me in the
world outside our little village . . .
But just call
me Pip
MY HOUSE
DAD
JOE
MUM
HELLO!MY NAME IS
My infant tongue
Infant me
Poop!
PIP!
PIP!
PIP!
My father’s family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip,
my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than PIP.
So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called PIP.
IC H A P T E R
PIP☺9
Sliced breadDinosaurs The
wheelPhotos
Mum + Dad
The internet
Mum
Me
Dad
TIME
MY FAMILY
I never saw my father or my mother, and never saw any likeness of either of them (for their days were long before the days of photographs). My first ideas regarding what they were like were unreasonably derived from their tombstones.
PHILIP PIRRIP, late of this parish,
Georgianawife of the above,
☜
10
Hello, son.
Hi, darling⁘ cough ⁘
⁘ cough ⁘⁘ sniff ⁘
The shape of the letters on my father’s tombstone gave me an odd idea that he was a square, stout, dark man, with curly black hair.
From my mother’s, I drew a childish conclusion that she was freckled and sickly.
PHILIP PIRRIP, late of this parish,
Georgianawife of the above,
☜
It was a memorable raw afternoon towards evening.
This bleak place overgrown with nettles was the churchyard;
wherePHILIP PIRRIP, late of this parish, and also
GEORGIANAwife of the above,
were dead and buried.
AND SO MY STORY BEGINS
PHILIP PIRRIP, late of this parish,
Georgianawife of the above,
☜
THEMARSHES
Me!
Mound
Gate
Cattle
The sea
The river
The dark flat wilderness beyond the churchyard, intersected with mounds
and gates, with scattered cattle feeding on it, was the marshes.
The low leaden line beyond was the river;
and that the distant savage lair from which the wind was rushing was the sea.
And the small bundle of shivers growing afraid of it all and beginning to cry, was PIP.