Return to Middlemarch

 I've finished it and am glad I read it.  I admit to skimming over some especially lengthy bits of narrative but I was captured by the evolving stories of three more or less star-crossed couples and delighted by Eliot's sly depiction of various characters.

For example, two ladies talking of a third whose husband has been discovered to have some disgraceful secrets in his past:

"...Do you think any hint has reached her?"

"I should hardly think so," said Mrs. Tom Toller. "We hear that he is ill and has never stirred out of the house since the meeting on Thursday; but she was with her girls at church yesterday, and they had new Tuscan bonnets. Her own had a feather in it. I have never seen that her religion made any difference in her dress."

There are any number of little gems in the dialogue that I loved -- but I doubt that George Eliot, were she looking for publication today, would have an easy time of it. Tastes change and nowadays lengthy moralizing is generally frowned on.

And Dorothea's desire to subjugate herself to her elderly husband by becoming his amanuensis is fairly incomprehensible. (Now had there been chains, whips, and leather -- that might sell.)   

It seems to me that the reading public's attention span is growing ever shorter. (I'm generalizing -- I know some still love lengthy tomes.) Is it the influence of texting and tweeting and social media of all sorts?

I know I find myself writing shorter paragraphs -- or rather, writing as I always have and then going back and seeing if that paragraph might read easier if it were broken in two.

Still, I'm going to continue to challenge myself by giving Mill of the Floss a whirl. Not immediately though. I need to reread Lev Grossman's The Magicians first. And I see that John has just downloaded Lee Child's Gone Tomorrow. It's been a while since I read a Reacher story. That will make an interesting change.

Dipping a Cautious Toe into Middlemarch

A while back one of my students from Tampa days (Cindy? Alicia?) posted an article on Facebook that referenced George Eliot's Middlemarch in a positive way. My memory of reading this novel is right there with my memory of Silas Marner -- which is to say, I hated it. 

But that was a long time ago and Middlemarch is one of those works that always turns up on lists like 100 Books You Really Should Have Read.

As most of you know, I read a lot. But it's generally for pleasure.  So I decided I should challenge myself and fight my way through  give Middlemarch another chance.

The opening was a little discouraging with the author asking (at some length) who among us, interested in the history of man, "has not dwelt, at least briefly, on the life of Saint Theresa, has not smiled with some gentleness at the thought of the little girl. walking forth one morning hand-in-hand with her still smaller brother, to go a seek martyrdom in the country of the Moors?"

Well, me, for one, I thought and closed the book, reconsidering my plan of challenging myself. 

A week later, having beguiled the time with (among others) The Graveyard Book and a review copy of a book by another student, I almost picked up an Elmore Leonard paperback that's been on my bedside table for some time. But my conscience pricked me and I decided to give Middlemarch another chance.

The opening (Prelude) was still annoying but I forged on.

Chapter 1 was more  interesting, delineating Dorothea's character as a religious enthusiast "enamoured of intensity and greatness, and rash in embracing whatever seemed to her to have those aspects; likely to seek martyrdom, to make retractions, and then to incur martyrdom after all in quarter where she had not sought it." 

Okay, even though the editor in my head was shouting, Show, don't tell. However, the editor in my head wasn't being fair, as this is a 19th Century novel and Tell is usual. From what I remember of the story, the ensuing pages will show how this prophecy is fulfilled.

But then I came to this delightful description of Dorothea:

"Riding was an indulgence which she allowed herself in spite of conscientious qualms; she felt that she enjoyed it in a pagan sensuous way and always looked forward to renouncing it."

Well,  I thought to myself, wry wit! We're in Jane Austen territory now. And I love Jane Austen. Read on!

And later, this exchange between Dorothea's sister and a neighbor:

"I am so sorry for Dorothea."

"Sorry! It is her doing, I suppose."

"Yes, she says Mr. Causabon has a great soul."

"With all my heart."

"Oh, Mrs. Cadwallader. I don't think it can be nice to marry a man with a great soul."

"Well,my dear, take warning. You know the look of one now; when the next comes and wants to marry you, don't you accept him."

"I'm sure I never should."

I can absolutely see this on stage. On in a movie -- of which I believe there is one. So strange, I have no memory of finding this  book anything but tedious, much less humorous. Now I'm hooked.

I'll let you know how it goes.