REVIEW FOR MIDDLEMARCH BY GEORGE ELIOT
George Eliot’s ‘Middlemarch’ is an epic tale about people, mostly middle and upper class, set in rural England during the 1800’s. The characters are complicated and evolving and, like the town, fictitious.
Eliot, tells the story from many points of view, allowing her to get inside many heads. In doing so, she proves herself to be not only a wonderful storyteller, but a gifted psychologist with an understanding of both sexes.
The main character, Dorothea, is outspoken, strong-willed and trusting, but on a path she has set to becoming molded and compliant. She marries an older man of the church, a supposed great scholar, a man of superior intellect she looks up to, but who reveals himself to be controlling. His pomposity camouflages self-doubt and insecurity. Through Eliot’s insightful character studies, we feel for these characters, sympathizing with their imperfections; Casaubon a jealous old fraud, helpless and insecure; she, young, strong, faithful, more clever than he. Eliot brings us the inner workings of Casaubon’s mind and his torments, not only that he might not finish his life’s written work, but maybe after his death, Dorothea might marry the man he despises, a man who is young, dynamic and good looking. He has observed a growing attraction between them, and this for him is intolerable. While Casaubon smolders, he thinks that even after premature death, if it should occur, he will find a way of controlling her, and punishing her.
‘There was no denying that Dorothea was as virtuous and lovely a young lady as he could have obtained for a wife; but the young lady turned out to be something more troublesome than he had conceived. She nursed him, she read to him, she anticipated his wants, and was solicitous about his feelings; but there had entered into the husband’s mind the certainty that she judged him, and that her wifely devotedness was like a penitential expiation of unbelieving thoughts—was accompanied with a power of comparison by which himself and his doings were seen too luminously as a part of things in general…Poor Mr. Casaubon! This suffering was the harder to bear because it seemed like a betrayal: the young creature who had worshipped him with perfect trust had quickly turned into the critical wife; a remark from her which he had not in any way anticipated was an assertion of conscious superiority; her gentle answers had an irritating cautiousness in them; and when she acquiesced it was a self-approved effort of forbearance.’
Casaubon ponders his own mortality:
‘To Mr. Casaubon now, it was as if he suddenly found himself on the dark river-brink and heard the plash of the oncoming oar, not discerning the forms, but expecting the summons.’
Characters develop beautifully – their arcs moving throughout the book. I especially like the beautiful Rosemond and Dr. Tersia Lydgate, a good-looking, young surgeon, a couple that fall blindly in love. What could possibly go wrong? Their love will see them through won’t it! But then again character flaws, come into play causing readers to become more curious and invested.
‘Poor Lydgate! or shall I say, Poor Rosamond! Each lived in a world of which the other knew nothing…But Rosamond had registered every look and word, and estimated them as the opening incidents of a preconceived romance—incidents which gather value from the foreseen development … If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel’s heartbeat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence. As it is, the quickest of us walk about well wadded with stupidity.’
Other figures are complicated and conflicted too, adding to the richness and suspense. This is not chick lit. It’s the work of genius. The plot is intricate, weaving, twisting and turning in unexpected directions. How could life in rural, Victorian England be so complicated! But like Forster’s ‘Howards End’, Austin’s ‘Pride and Prejudice’, Hardy’s ‘Far from the Madding Crowd’, life can be a challenge! And no, it’s not fair.
The actions of the characters revolve around love mostly, as well as ambition, deceit, greed, possessiveness, selfishness, fall from grace, and of course, money and death. Eliot peels back their skins and lays her characters bare, showing their inner weaknesses, their hopes and desires. At times, she pops in and talks to us directly, which I found antiquated, but nice.
There are gems throughout Eliot’s writing, providing insight and worldly knowledge about life—a treat for authors. I often found myself thinking of situations in these modern times and saw similarities. Not much has changed and probably never will—given the nature of man.
Through her descriptive prose, one gets the feel of the country, the rural, provincial way of life, life on the land and horses, cattle and corn. One can vividly imagine, the wrath and dissatisfaction among the locals at the coming of the railways, as land was commandeered all over the countryside for construction.
Reading this, for me, was time well spent.
Eliot, tells the story from many points of view, allowing her to get inside many heads. In doing so, she proves herself to be not only a wonderful storyteller, but a gifted psychologist with an understanding of both sexes.
The main character, Dorothea, is outspoken, strong-willed and trusting, but on a path she has set to becoming molded and compliant. She marries an older man of the church, a supposed great scholar, a man of superior intellect she looks up to, but who reveals himself to be controlling. His pomposity camouflages self-doubt and insecurity. Through Eliot’s insightful character studies, we feel for these characters, sympathizing with their imperfections; Casaubon a jealous old fraud, helpless and insecure; she, young, strong, faithful, more clever than he. Eliot brings us the inner workings of Casaubon’s mind and his torments, not only that he might not finish his life’s written work, but maybe after his death, Dorothea might marry the man he despises, a man who is young, dynamic and good looking. He has observed a growing attraction between them, and this for him is intolerable. While Casaubon smolders, he thinks that even after premature death, if it should occur, he will find a way of controlling her, and punishing her.
‘There was no denying that Dorothea was as virtuous and lovely a young lady as he could have obtained for a wife; but the young lady turned out to be something more troublesome than he had conceived. She nursed him, she read to him, she anticipated his wants, and was solicitous about his feelings; but there had entered into the husband’s mind the certainty that she judged him, and that her wifely devotedness was like a penitential expiation of unbelieving thoughts—was accompanied with a power of comparison by which himself and his doings were seen too luminously as a part of things in general…Poor Mr. Casaubon! This suffering was the harder to bear because it seemed like a betrayal: the young creature who had worshipped him with perfect trust had quickly turned into the critical wife; a remark from her which he had not in any way anticipated was an assertion of conscious superiority; her gentle answers had an irritating cautiousness in them; and when she acquiesced it was a self-approved effort of forbearance.’
Casaubon ponders his own mortality:
‘To Mr. Casaubon now, it was as if he suddenly found himself on the dark river-brink and heard the plash of the oncoming oar, not discerning the forms, but expecting the summons.’
Characters develop beautifully – their arcs moving throughout the book. I especially like the beautiful Rosemond and Dr. Tersia Lydgate, a good-looking, young surgeon, a couple that fall blindly in love. What could possibly go wrong? Their love will see them through won’t it! But then again character flaws, come into play causing readers to become more curious and invested.
‘Poor Lydgate! or shall I say, Poor Rosamond! Each lived in a world of which the other knew nothing…But Rosamond had registered every look and word, and estimated them as the opening incidents of a preconceived romance—incidents which gather value from the foreseen development … If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel’s heartbeat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence. As it is, the quickest of us walk about well wadded with stupidity.’
Other figures are complicated and conflicted too, adding to the richness and suspense. This is not chick lit. It’s the work of genius. The plot is intricate, weaving, twisting and turning in unexpected directions. How could life in rural, Victorian England be so complicated! But like Forster’s ‘Howards End’, Austin’s ‘Pride and Prejudice’, Hardy’s ‘Far from the Madding Crowd’, life can be a challenge! And no, it’s not fair.
The actions of the characters revolve around love mostly, as well as ambition, deceit, greed, possessiveness, selfishness, fall from grace, and of course, money and death. Eliot peels back their skins and lays her characters bare, showing their inner weaknesses, their hopes and desires. At times, she pops in and talks to us directly, which I found antiquated, but nice.
There are gems throughout Eliot’s writing, providing insight and worldly knowledge about life—a treat for authors. I often found myself thinking of situations in these modern times and saw similarities. Not much has changed and probably never will—given the nature of man.
Through her descriptive prose, one gets the feel of the country, the rural, provincial way of life, life on the land and horses, cattle and corn. One can vividly imagine, the wrath and dissatisfaction among the locals at the coming of the railways, as land was commandeered all over the countryside for construction.
Reading this, for me, was time well spent.
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