Book 146: Middlemarch by George Eliot (Finished-A Victorian Celebration).

“And, of course men know best about everything, except what women know better.”

George Eliot is always such a treat for me to read. She was one of the first classics writers that I discovered on my own, and I have been happily reading and enjoying her books ever since my first read of Silas Marner. It has been a few years since I last picked up Middlemarch, so a lot of the details were very fuzzy (to be fair, it is a very LARGE book).

As I began reading and starting plowing through Eliot's writing, bits and pieces fell back into place and I remembered who I liked and who annoyed me (Celia annoys me like no other. And I'm not sure why). In any case, it still took me a good chunk of time to get through all 900 pages of Victorian-era commentary (it took 2 1/2 weeks!). But when I set the book down, I realized that I enjoyed it more than I did during my first read quite a few years ago.

One of the things I love about Eliot is that you notice pieces on rereads that you didn't notice the first time around. I had completely forgotten the plot with Fred Vincy, so when I stumbled across poor Fred and his adoration for Mary, it broke my heart a bit. I felt for Fred, who fumbled and who could never quite get his head on straight....unless it came to his feelings for Mary. I believe I paid far more attention to their chapters on this read than I had on the one before.

I think Fred's story, and his struggle with finding a purpose within the confines of Victorian society probably rang true for many in the time period. I am sure that many a young man was unruly and unsure of a path to take. Fred, for example, was clearly not a man that should have headed into the church. As he told Mary, he could do the job, but he wouldn't have passion for it. He needed some kind of work to inspire him and make him a better person. I can relate to that so well! Part of the reason I love teaching is that it challenges and inspires me to try new things, to push myself. I saw a lot of myself in Fred and his struggle. And, of course, I was happy with the way his story ended. 

I also had to chuckle quite a bit at Mr. Brooke, who never intends to be funny, but always seems to bring out a smile. His insistence on stepping in when things get a little bit tough is endearing, especially when he reverses what he sets out to do and muddles things up even more than they already were!

I was also quite drawn to Lydgate and his situation as a new man in Middlemarch. I found the passages pertaining to his medical practice interesting in that he really seemed to have new ideas for the folks living in town. The storyline with his courting of young Rosamond and their eventual marriage was one of my favorites in the dozen or so character storylines. It seemed obvious to me from the beginning that they had different ideals and expectations about their marriage and what it would entail. I should admit that I wanted to yell at Lydgate for going into debt for selfish Rosamond and her "appearances." That's something no one should ever do! You don't need the shiny new dishes or the fancy house for appearances Lydgate! :)

But obviously, the main storyline concerning Dorothea Brooke and her marriage to stuffy Mr. Casaubon deserves a bit of attention. Dorothea is one of those female characters that I love in Victorian literature. She has a strong set of ideas and dreams for her own life, and while others may be persuading her to go one way, she is resolute in the direction she wishes to go, even when she realizes it wasn't such a good idea to begin with! In her marriage to Mr. Casaubon, it was obvious that she had lofty ideas about him as a learned man. As a young girl, she was attracted to the visage of intelligence and hoped that he would be welcoming in his knowledge-teach her and inspire her to learn as well. It became pretty obvious he had no such ideas, but saw her as more of a secretary than a wife. I particularly loved this bit of commentary from her...

"But it is very difficult to be learned; it seems as if people were worn out on the way to great thoughts, and can never enjoy them because they are too tired."

When I read that, I had to agree with her, because yes, focusing and exploring areas to become learned is a tiring process. That piece definitely resonated with me as I continue on in my own exploration of literature and the classics. Sometimes I feel like I am rushing through to get to the next title. That I must push onward and forward in an attempt to get to it all. And I am slowly losing the bits of enjoyment from savoring passages that I love, raving about writing, and loving the characters. So thanks, Dorothea, for reminding me.

What I love, however, is that Eliot gives Dorothea a chance to live her life with the early passing of Casaubon. And while Casaubon is a bit of a jerk in his will (you'll have to read it to find out!), Dorothea finally has the means to pursue her own passions as a free woman. The last two parts or so, where she is finally free, were inspiring. I love a Victorian woman with a sense of purpose. I love that she went against the wishes of her male relatives. She was firey and passionate and everything that I love!

As usual, the writing was superb. Eliot has a such a way of stringing words together to incite passion, force a laugh, and make me bite my nails in anticipation...

“We mortals, men and women, devour many a disappointment between breakfast and dinner-time; keep back the tears and look a little pale about the lips, and in answer to inquiries say, "Oh, nothing!" Pride helps; and pride is not a bad thing when it only urges us to hide our hurts -- not to hurt others.”

For a book that is, at it's core, a true study of the way relationships and marriage worked in this society, it was inspirational and heart-warming. In each of the couples, I found something that I understood and related to as a married woman in the 21st century. In a way, it kind of amazes me that the same issues they faced we still face today. I think this bit from the "finale" says it better than I can..

"Marriage, which has been the bourne of so many narratives, is still a great beginning, as it was to Adam and Eve, who kept their honeymoon in Eden, but had their first little one among the thorns and thistles of the wilderness. It is still the beginning of the home epic-the gradual conquest or irremediable loss of that complete union which makes the advancing years a climax, and age the harvest of sweet memories in common."

Yes, Eliot is a master, and Middlemarch is definitely a great work. But can I be honest? As much as I loved Middlemarch, it's characters, and the messages it portrays, my heart yearned a little bit for The Mill on the Floss. And while I can see why so many love Middlemarch and see it as Eliot's crowning achievement, I'm happy with saying that I think that title goes to Mill. While they both hold a lot of passion and strength, there is something much more powerful in The Mill on the Floss.

But you should still read this one-to savor the language and the various ways that Eliot explores the many facets of Victorian life. There is so much more to this 900 page chunker than I could hope to write about here!

“If youth is the season of hope, it is often so only in the sense that our elders are hopeful about us; for no age is so apt as youth to think its emotions, partings, and resolves are the last of their kind. Each crisis seems final, simply because it is new. We are told that the oldest inhabitants in Peru do not cease to be agitated by the earthquakes, but they probably see beyond each shock, and reflect that there are plenty more to come.”

Book 146: Starting Middlemarch by George Eliot.

I've been avoiding getting back into Nicholas Nickleby, so I started a new chunkster for the Victorian Celebration instead. I've been craving some Eliot since finishing The Lifted Veil last week, and Middlemarch was calling to me off the shelf. After staring at it, Nicholas Nickleby, and Far From the Madding Crowd, the pink cover won out and I started it Sunday morning.

Needless to say, I am flying steadily through Eliot's chunkster. It has been years since I've read it, so bits of the story are "new" to me on this read. I forgot how Eliot begins the narrative in one place, introducing the reader to a character or two...then meanders to someone we met briefly, then to another, and another. It works in some odd way. And while the characters we met in chapter one disappear for 100 pages, I still remembered exactly what they were up to when the disappeared from view for a bit.

I also love the comfort of Eliot's writing as she discusses the "Miss Brookes" and their problems. She has such a warm tone to the way she describes their interactions that it brings a smile to my face as I read. I love Celia's snarky comments, and Dorothea's determination that she knows what is best. I also love the meddling neighbors, the concern over who will wed who, and the silly politics of a sleepy country town. It makes me smile and keeps me turning the pages.

And while I know I've read this before, I am still anxious for the characters and wondering what will happen to them by the end of 880 page edition of the book I have. That is the mark of a great writer-that I can still wonder at their intent. That I can still question what a character will say or do when I turn the page.

The whole thing just feels comforting and warm-just what I need right now.

The Lifted Veil by George Eliot (A Victorian Celebration).

 “We learn words by rote, but not their meaning; that must be paid for with our life-blood, and printed in the subtle fibres of our nerves.” 

I decided to sit down a read a book yesterday afternoon. You see, I came home from work at the park and decided to do some blogging. Then I became utterly depressed because while all the participants in my little event are speeding along with their reading, I was still floundering along back at the start waiting to begin. So, I stood and stared at my bookshelves. For a long time. Then I realized I had a volume with Silas Marner, The Lifted Veil, and Brother Jacob. "Couldn't I read one of the latter two titles? They're short, right?" So I clutched my book, sat on the couch, and told myself I couldn't leave until I finished something (except to go change over the laundry).

I decided on reading The Lifted Veil. I hadn't read it before, so I figured it was about time. I've really only read Eliot's longer works, so I wasn't sure what to expect from this super short piece of fiction (I feel I should mention that I love Eliot. All of her work is simply fabulous with The Mill on the Floss being my ultimate favorite-yes, even more so than Middlemarch). So, I sat on my couch and read.

Well, apparently Eliot had a big of courage in her to try something a little different. Maybe I was expecting the usual-pastoral setting, bickering women-folk, and a girl who doesn't quite fit the "normal" role. Nope. Instead I got a story told in first-person from a male voice, and that was vaguely science-fictiony/gothic. It was odd. And not what I was really expecting from my first Victorian piece.

But I dove in, enjoyed it, then set it aside and said, "huh." Yes, I did enjoy Eliot's voice. I feel like I can always pick her out of a crowd-the way she strings sentences together just sings of her work, and I certainly felt that in The Lifted Veil. I also felt slightly uncomfortable...as if she was trying to maintain a firm grip on what she was writing about and maybe wasn't all that sure of where her story was truly going...

The main character has the ability to see some things in the future, as well as hear the thoughts of others if he allows himself to get close enough. This has set him aside from his relations and those in his community. So when tragedy strikes and he eventually marries, it doesn't really bode well for his marriage. It is an odd story, and one that seemed all too short (my edition was only 55 pages). I felt like I was just getting into his voice when I flipped the last page. I felt like the climax was too soon and then it was over.

Looking around online, I stumbled onto a few theories on why Eliot may have written the novella in the first place. Her real name was Mary Ann Evans (a fact I already knew), but she wrote under the pen name George Eliot in hopes of her identity as a woman being protected. Her first novel, Adam Bede, was published under her pen name, and there was a search done to determine the identity of the writer. The Lifted Veil was published shortly after and her identity was leaked. I suppose there are some direct comparisons. Obviously Eliot had to feel some pressure to be under the public eye (aren't all celebrities?), and that might be reflected in her main character here. He pulls away from society so as not to hurt himself (by hearing their thoughts or getting too close), so perhaps Eliot was pointing out the need for privacy?

I'm just not sure I buy that, or whether I want to dive into thinking that about the novella.

In any case, I'm glad to have finished one Victorian piece, so now I can feel better about myself as the supposed host of the event. :) I still have Brother Jacob to read, and I might get to it later this week. I think it is supposed to be more in her usual style than this one, so I'll look forward to it. :)


Yep. This was read for A Victorian Celebration, as well as the 2012 Victorian Challenge and as a title for my Classics Club List. But was it on the original 250 list? Nope. :)