June 4, 2012
It is hard to ‘review’ George Eliot’s Middlemarch. At nearly 800 pages it cannot really be compressed or distilled into easy parts. In fact, it’s great strength is that it is a profoundly inconvenient novel to modern readers. It took me a full 450 pages to see how the two basic halves of her story- town and country- would come together in any fashion other than proximity. That is not to say the book wanders or dithers (as I am prone to think most Dicken’s novels do), rather it takes time to consider- vis-a-vis a plethora of memorable characters- the full sweep of parochial England poised on the edge of The Reform Bill. Moreover, Eliot’s prose is adroitly self-conscious: she is ironic with out being bitter or compromising a basic sympathy towards humanity. She affords her self the time and space to both consider the ramifications of human choice on other humans but also gently check, glosses, and reproofs her characters. I could go on, and perhaps later will, but really it is hard to say anything other than it is the quintessential Victorian Novel. 

It is hard to ‘review’ George Eliot’s Middlemarch. At nearly 800 pages it cannot really be compressed or distilled into easy parts. In fact, it’s great strength is that it is a profoundly inconvenient novel to modern readers. It took me a full 450 pages to see how the two basic halves of her story- town and country- would come together in any fashion other than proximity. That is not to say the book wanders or dithers (as I am prone to think most Dicken’s novels do), rather it takes time to consider- vis-a-vis a plethora of memorable characters- the full sweep of parochial England poised on the edge of The Reform Bill. Moreover, Eliot’s prose is adroitly self-conscious: she is ironic with out being bitter or compromising a basic sympathy towards humanity. She affords her self the time and space to both consider the ramifications of human choice on other humans but also gently check, glosses, and reproofs her characters. I could go on, and perhaps later will, but really it is hard to say anything other than it is the quintessential Victorian Novel. 

June 4, 2012
(Mary Garth and Fred Vincy)
“No, indeed, father.  I don’t love him because he is a fine match.”
“What for, then?”
“Oh, dear, because I have always loved him.  I should never like scolding any one else so well; and that is a point to be thought of in a husband.”
-George Eliot, Middlemarch, ch. LXXXVI
Mary and Caleb Garth discussing Fred Vincy. George Eliot you are the best. The very best. 

(Mary Garth and Fred Vincy)

“No, indeed, father.  I don’t love him because he is a fine match.”

“What for, then?”

“Oh, dear, because I have always loved him.  I should never like scolding any one else so well; and that is a point to be thought of in a husband.”

-George Eliot, Middlemarch, ch. LXXXVI

Mary and Caleb Garth discussing Fred Vincy. George Eliot you are the best. The very best. 

May 30, 2012
"Will felt that his literary refinements were usually beyond the limits of Middlemarch perception; nevertheless, he was beginning thoroughly to like the work of which when he began he had said to himself rather languidly, “Why not?”—and he studied the political situation with as ardent an interest as he had ever given to poetic metres or mediaevalism. It is undeniable that but for the desire to be where Dorothea was, and perhaps the want of knowing what else to do, Will would not at this time have been meditating on the needs of the English people or criticising English statesmanship: he would probably have been rambling in Italy sketching plans for several dramas, trying prose and finding it too jejune, trying verse and finding it too artificial, beginning to copy “bits” from old pictures, leaving off because they were “no good,” and observing that, after all, self-culture was the principal point; while in politics he would have been sympathizing warmly with liberty and progress in general. Our sense of duty must often wait for some work which shall take the place of dilettanteism and make us feel that the quality of our action is not a matter of indifference."

-Will Ladislaw, the original Hipster. From George Eliot’s Middlemarch. Ladislaw and Werther would make a helluva pair. And yes. How perfect is Rufus Sewell as Ladislaw. I feel like the Oxford dude contingent is fully 63% Ladislaw. (The remainder is 17% Tertius Lydgate, 10% Causubon, 5% Sir James Chettam, 4% Fred Vincy, and 1% Mr. Brooke)

April 23, 2012
"He was but seven-and-twenty, an age at which many men are not quite common—at which they are hopeful of achievement, resolute in avoidance, thinking that Mammon shall never put a bit in their mouths and get astride their backs, but rather that Mammon, if they have anything to do with him, shall draw their chariot."

— George Eliot, Middlemarch, Chapter 15. W/r/t Tertius Lydgate but applicable to most men in their mid-twenties…aka the oldest 1% on tumblr

April 7, 2012
"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 us; and pride is not a bad thing when it only urges us to hide our own hurts-not to hurt others’"

— George Eliot, Middlemarch, ch. VI (p. 57-8 in the Oxford World Classic paperback). In all seriousness, I may disagree with Eliot to some degree but this is still basically true for Brits. At least the upper middle class type that one encounters in the Oxford-West London-Home Counties-Cotswold-Lake District orbit. Perhaps because that type of Brit still reads George Eliot.

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