Sasha's Reviews > Middlemarch
Middlemarch
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by

Sasha's review
bookshelves: 2011, reading-through-history, perfect-novels, top-100, rth-lifetime, 2018
Jul 05, 2011
bookshelves: 2011, reading-through-history, perfect-novels, top-100, rth-lifetime, 2018
Read 2 times. Last read February 24, 2018 to March 30, 2018.
This is the best book ever written, and why would you even think that? Who cares? It seems like a particularly male thing to do, this categorizing, this ranking. When George Eliot introduces Casaubon, a compulsive categorizer who has accomplished nothing of value, it feels like more than a character. It's a warning. She keeps quoting Eve from Paradise Lost, who was impressed by a man and look how that turned out. Eliot's talking about women following men and their dumb, arcane knowledge. Dorothea wants to be part of something grand, and the very idea is patriarchal. She ends up lost in a tomb. This is Casaubon, the archetypal mansplainer: so many facts, so little truth.
So she leads with this grand male ambition, The Key To All Mythologies, but she's heading somewhere else. Here's the quote that she's spending 800 pages aiming for:
And you're like oh, fuck yeah, right? Unhistoric acts are my whole jam! This is the truth: most of us will be regular. We can hope to find love, or at least acceptance. We hope that the cumulative effect of very many of us trying to do more or less the right thing will be that the world is more or less nice. A few of us will create great art, or live great lives. Very many of us will wish we had. George Eliot thinks we should settle down.
People are surprised when they find out that I read mostly classics. "What for?" they ask. It sounds boring. "What are you getting out of this?" At its worst, it's some kind of Casaubonesque desire to know everything about something. Better, I hope there's some kind of cumulative effect of empathy and perspective. But best of all: this here, Middlemarch, is the only book I've ever read that changed the way I look at my entire life. It teaches me to settle down. I'm in the process of living faithfully a hidden life here. So perhaps are you. Coming to terms with that isn't just a lesson, it's the lesson, right? It's the whole game. It's either this or buy a convertible and re-pierce my ear. I read classics in hopes of finding something this good again.
Okay so the whole game is in here, and the funny thing about this being the best book ever is that for the best book ever it is fucking boring. There's this whole part, like the middle third or so, that's frankly deadly. It happens about a hundred pages in; you've been having a grand old time with Dorothea and her shitty old husband who can't even fuck right, and all of a sudden Eliot starts introducing new people. It's not that they're not great - well, some of them aren't, I'm sorry but Mary and Fred are boring. But Rosamond! She's so awful! She's terrific and she very nearly runs off with the book. Casaubon is a bad man; Rosamond is a bad woman, and her damage to Lydgate is much worse.
Rosamond is what Eliot started with, in fact; that was supposed to be the book. She was to be a response to the realist landmark Madame Bovary. Eliot decided she needed a counterweight in Dorothea, and then I don't know what all else happened. (That climactic confrontation between Dorothea and Rosamond, for one thing - what a scene, right? Eliot is one of the most compassionate writers, and here's where she puts her money down.) There's this complicated structure she builds - pretty Ladislaw, the banker Bulstrode, an old scandal, some surprisingly Victorian plot twists, given that Middlemarch is itself a realist landmark. Rather more talk about doctors than you needed. A lot of this stuff is boring.
There's a famous quote from Virginia Woolf, who called Middlemarch "one of the few English novels written for grown-up people." She called it that despite "all its imperfections," by the way, she thought it was boring too. But that's a grown-up message, that bit about the tombs. So here we are, right? Grown-ups, living faithfully our hidden lives, hoping to find peace with our unremarkableness. Here's the peace. You gotta make it through a boring part in the middle, but at the end you'll look back and find it was the best thing ever.
So she leads with this grand male ambition, The Key To All Mythologies, but she's heading somewhere else. Here's the quote that she's spending 800 pages aiming for:
The growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.
And you're like oh, fuck yeah, right? Unhistoric acts are my whole jam! This is the truth: most of us will be regular. We can hope to find love, or at least acceptance. We hope that the cumulative effect of very many of us trying to do more or less the right thing will be that the world is more or less nice. A few of us will create great art, or live great lives. Very many of us will wish we had. George Eliot thinks we should settle down.
People are surprised when they find out that I read mostly classics. "What for?" they ask. It sounds boring. "What are you getting out of this?" At its worst, it's some kind of Casaubonesque desire to know everything about something. Better, I hope there's some kind of cumulative effect of empathy and perspective. But best of all: this here, Middlemarch, is the only book I've ever read that changed the way I look at my entire life. It teaches me to settle down. I'm in the process of living faithfully a hidden life here. So perhaps are you. Coming to terms with that isn't just a lesson, it's the lesson, right? It's the whole game. It's either this or buy a convertible and re-pierce my ear. I read classics in hopes of finding something this good again.
Okay so the whole game is in here, and the funny thing about this being the best book ever is that for the best book ever it is fucking boring. There's this whole part, like the middle third or so, that's frankly deadly. It happens about a hundred pages in; you've been having a grand old time with Dorothea and her shitty old husband who can't even fuck right, and all of a sudden Eliot starts introducing new people. It's not that they're not great - well, some of them aren't, I'm sorry but Mary and Fred are boring. But Rosamond! She's so awful! She's terrific and she very nearly runs off with the book. Casaubon is a bad man; Rosamond is a bad woman, and her damage to Lydgate is much worse.
Rosamond is what Eliot started with, in fact; that was supposed to be the book. She was to be a response to the realist landmark Madame Bovary. Eliot decided she needed a counterweight in Dorothea, and then I don't know what all else happened. (That climactic confrontation between Dorothea and Rosamond, for one thing - what a scene, right? Eliot is one of the most compassionate writers, and here's where she puts her money down.) There's this complicated structure she builds - pretty Ladislaw, the banker Bulstrode, an old scandal, some surprisingly Victorian plot twists, given that Middlemarch is itself a realist landmark. Rather more talk about doctors than you needed. A lot of this stuff is boring.
There's a famous quote from Virginia Woolf, who called Middlemarch "one of the few English novels written for grown-up people." She called it that despite "all its imperfections," by the way, she thought it was boring too. But that's a grown-up message, that bit about the tombs. So here we are, right? Grown-ups, living faithfully our hidden lives, hoping to find peace with our unremarkableness. Here's the peace. You gotta make it through a boring part in the middle, but at the end you'll look back and find it was the best thing ever.
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Reading Progress
July 3, 2011
–
Started Reading
July 5, 2011
– Shelved
July 18, 2011
–
0.0%
"Causabon "had not yet succeeded in issuing copies of his mythological key." Lol, virgin. p. 278"
July 18, 2011
–
0.0%
"The troublesome ones in a family are usually either the wits or the idiots. p. 305"
July 18, 2011
–
37.61%
"Comparison of a dead guy's relatives to pairs going on to the ark, each hoping for a finite share of the pot: just awesome."
page
331
July 19, 2011
– Shelved as:
2011
July 19, 2011
– Shelved as:
reading-through-history
July 21, 2011
–
47.95%
"Some men with his years are like lions; one can tell nothing of their age except that they are fully grown."
page
422
July 21, 2011
–
52.39%
"It is one thing to like defiance, and another thing to like its consequences."
page
461
July 23, 2011
–
69.89%
"He felt the scenes of his earlier life coming between him and everything else, as obstinately as when we look through the window from a lighted room, the objects we turn our backs on are still before us, instead of the grass and the trees. Man, that's smart."
page
615
July 24, 2011
–
74.09%
""The tender devotedness and docile admiration of the ideal wife must be renounced, and life must be taken up on a lower stage of expectation, as it is by men who have lost their limbs." Ha!"
page
652
July 25, 2011
–
Finished Reading
July 27, 2012
– Shelved as:
perfect-novels
December 29, 2013
– Shelved as:
top-100
January 2, 2015
– Shelved as:
rth-lifetime
February 24, 2018
–
Started Reading
March 30, 2018
– Shelved as:
2018
March 30, 2018
–
Finished Reading
Comments Showing 1-50 of 80 (80 new)

But I do feel that Middlemarch's plot is tighter. And Eliot's insight into the female mind seems sharper, unsurprisingly, and that is important since it's a major point of both books.
On the other hand, AK doesn't drag as much. And my favorite scene in AK - her dread as she waits to see the reaction to the outing of her affair - is marginally more gripping than the key scene in Middlemarch (Dorothea's climactic conversation with Rosamond).

I think the main thing missing from Middlemarch is an extended grass-mowing scene. That whole passage in AK took my breath away. And not everyone can write a good grass-mowing scene.
I do appreciate the inclusion of all the dogs in Middlemarch, however. Eliot must have been a fan of canines too.



I am too, Heather.
El - there is the extended digression in MM about the dog named Fag. Unintentionally funny, yes, and still not as good as the AK Laska scene...but still, pretty entertaining.



Description: I have a terrific whiteboard. Will require an incontinent unicorn.


Do you have any cousins or something we could bait the trap with? All my cousins are sluts or cage fighters.*
* more true than I'd like it to be.

...so I've added in a line item for $100k of "Virgin Supplies."
Will there be gold at the end of our shitty rainbows? That might be a payment in kind.


BTW, this is a great idea for NaNo 2011 - and I could . It would totally shine on my resume.


I put spoiler tags around specific plot discussion, so no worries there.
And yes, I'd be happy to. I'll make that the thing I think about during idle moments at work today and get back to you in a while. Glad you're enjoying Middlemarch. It's a hell of a book.


Aren't we all, my friend...aren't we all. Okay, I have my choices. Only the first is properly Dickensian or...Eliotian? The other two are just good.
The Woman in White, Wilkie Collins (1859): a terrifically fun proto-detective story from one of the 19th century's best and most readable authors, and a buddy of Dickens. Features one of my favorite villains and one of my favorite heroines ever.
The War of the End of the World, Mario Vargas Llosa (1981): a haunting, violent, epic account of the War of Canudos in Brazil at the turn of the 20th century, this owes more to War & Peace than to Dickens. Llosa is a Nobel Prize winner and one of the greatest living Latin American authors.
And just because you're Irish, The Celtic Twilight: Faerie and Folklore, Yeats (1893): a slim, tricky, brilliant definition of Irish character from one of the best poets ever. It's probably bad form to link to my own review, but I have a lot of thoughts about this book.
Bonus Dickensia: the five-season HBO television series In its scope, savage insistence on showing the conditions of the poor, and humor, it captures the spirit of Dickens more than any modern book I've read.
Man, Butcher Boy is a headfuck of a book, huh? I read it on a road trip through Northern Ireland last spring; it made me feel deeply icky.
Lemme know if you've read any / all of these and I'll go back to the board.

TV's episodic nature makes it in some ways a natural spiritual descendant of the serialized fiction of the 1900s...I'm a book guy, obviously, but I think The Wire is legitimately high art.
Yeah, I've read The Road too...Cormac McCarthy doesn't really saddle my horse.
Interesting you mention O'Conner; I've heard Star of the Sea described as Dickensian.





I also felt myself comparing this to Anna Karenina the whole time, and your comparison is perfect. It's actually what bothered me most about this book: that in this supposedly naturalistic story you can see everything coming from a mile away. When Dorothea meets Ladislaw shortly after being engaged to Casaubon, it's obvious what's going to happen (not the actual events, but their theme.) Everything is just too tidy.


Still super fucking boring though, right? I might be changing my mind, instead of the first half it's the middle third? I was kinda into the first part where Dorothea's trying to get down Casaubon's pants, just because it's sortof the pants equivalent of going to change the lightbulb in the basement alone, you're like NOOOOOOO it's not going to work and someone's going to make you feel bad
but then they start introducing everyone else and guess what, Fred Vincy is still boring.

I think that now I’ve been through it the first time, I would enjoy it more the second time. But that’s not going to happen, at least not for a few years.



But this book is a favourite that made me feel so many things. I came away from this book with like a million quotes to save.

Saint Dorothea is credited with being the first female saint in the Catholic roll of saints. Her actual existence is debatable as she seems to have been a legendary figure but tradition has her credited as the very first of a very long line of women whose path in life lead to an untimely and horribly painful death.
It might be a coincidence, as I was raised by nuns who took after the Dorothean Order, the name immediately invokes the saint to me and the text does at least enough to make one wonder.




You're right, they get off on martyrdom in like the first sentence. And there's this, Will to Dorothea later: "Would you turn all the youth of the world into a tragic chorus, wailing and moralizing over misery? I suspect that you have some false belief in the virtues of misery, and want to make your life a martyrdom."
So...maybe!

Thanks to your comment in Bookish (and now this review) about Eliot being better than Tolstoy, that's pretty much all I've been thinking about today. Doesn't help that I'm reading a collection of his short works and they're all rocking my face pretty hard. I feel one day we may need to fight about this. I'll let you know.