This is Dickens' final, forever-unfinished novel, and it haunts. The story opens in the opium dens of Cloisterham, a drowsy cathedral town where respectable choirmaster John Jasper leads a secret life of drug-fueled fantasy and obsessive love for Rosa Bud, his nephew Edwin's fiancée. When Edwin and Rosa mutually agree to break off their engagement, believing duty has replaced feeling, the stage is set for catastrophe. On a stormy Christmas Eve, Edwin vanishes entirely, leaving only his personal effects and a growing suspicion that his jealous uncle is the culprit. Dickens died with only six of twelve planned installments complete, taking the solution to the grave. What remains is a psychological thriller of remarkable darkness: Jasper's dual existence, his possessive fixation on Rosa, the sinister undercurrents beneath Cloisterham's genteel surface. For over 150 years, readers have turned detective, argued in drawing rooms, and written their own endings. The mystery remains. It will always remain.
