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I give it five stars because it seems nearly a perfect example of its type of craft. This book has an intertwined and flawless plot that is never overcomplicated; it is full of wonderful language, rich with regional variation, for instance the tenor of Donald Farfrae's Scottish is exceptionally musical and not like the speech of his peers. There were moments reading this book I felt so much under the sway of the author's power that I could observe him wirte himself into one tight plot corner and then another and then skillfully find his way out from all . Plot plot plot. There's a lot to learn here. Everything they told us in graduate school started here: plot springs from character; don't coddle your characters--reveal their weaknesses, build plot around their flaws. Let their mistakes haunt their lives forever. Don't get bogged down in narrative tangents. The simplicity of this tale makes room for its psychological richness--not the same as complexity, just depth. I wish I could do this. In comparision to the other 19th century realists with whom Hardy is often compared, Hardy it seems to me is the purest of them all. He doesn't get lost in well-meaning documentarian slumming as Zola did, and he has less of the pathos of Wharton or James. That said I prefer Wharton and James--somehow their characters seem yet more tragic. I'm not sure why--perhaps there is a teeny bit less subtely and elegance to Hardy's writing. His is sure footed, Anglo-saxon, stubborn, forceful. And yet with beautiful moments of authorial reflection. We'll have to take a poll....