Middlemarch

For about a week before my Israel trip this summer, I looked through all my books and tried to sort out the ones I wanted to read. I had a stack of lighter reading and a stack of classics my dad gave me for Christmas. I had tried to read Vanity Fair with little success, read Portrait of a Lady (reviewed in this blog) and wasn't particularly keen on starting a new classic, which would take me months to read. But Middlemarch, by George Eliot, didn't look so bad, and I knew I wanted to expand my classics vocabulary. So I put Middlemarch in my "to read" pile, and resolved to bring it to the beach with me.

While in Israel, Middlemarch came up in casual conversation on the trip. I told myself, again, that I had to read it at the beach. In Jerusalem one night, we had dinner with a lovely family, and one of the guests, in hearing that Jane Austen was my favorite author, remarked that I should read Middlemarch, by George Eliot. "It's on my list!" I said, surprised that this same book would come up again. I returned from Israel with a new zeal to read it. It took me two months, but I finally finished it recently, and was surprised at how much I loved it!

Those who know me well know that I love Jane Austen. I've read all of her books, and love her wit and humor, along with her hysterical characters and compelling love stories. I've also seen the movies: Pride and Prejudice (both the BBC and Kiera Knightley versions), Sense and Sensibility, Mansfield Park, Emma. I love them all. I've read biographies of her, and one of my favorite movies (though it's inaccurate) is Becoming Jane. Middlemarch was recommended to me because it was similar to Jane Austen's books.

Middlemarch is written around the same time as Jane Austen's novels, but it delves into the characters lives much more extensively than Austen novels. The novel is about a town, Middlemarch, and it's inhabitants. The book opens with Dorothea Brooke, a pious, Mother Theresa-like figure, very quickly becoming engaged to Mr. Casaubon, an elderly gentleman and renowned scholar. The gap in their ages is almost comical, and several people, Dorothea's family included, object to her choice. But Dorothea has dreams of helping Mr. Casaubon in his research, and so marries him quickly. She soon realizes what a mistake she has made as Mr. Casaubon is distant and careless with her, and finds a friend in Will, Mr. Casaubon's cousin.

Rosamond Vincy is the town darling, beautiful, serene, and sensible. Her brother, Fred Vincy, is almost the opposite: he's a dandy, can't settle on a profession, and is hopelessly in love with Mary Garth, his childhood best friend. When Tertius Lydgate, an idealistic doctor with dreams of scholarly discovery and honor, comes to town, Rosamond falls in love with him. The brother and sister pair each go through their own trials of love.

All of these complicated plots are woven against the background of a busy town and many, many minor characters, all fully imagined. What was fascinating to me about Middlemarch was its span: some couples don't become engaged until the end of the book (some 800 pages) due to various plot twists, while others marry quickly. Middlemarch deals not only with courting, but with what happens after marriage, as well. Lydgate encounters debt problems, and the struggle which he and Rosamond go through is how many couples today would act. It's such a cool continuity, that debt strained a marriage in the 1800s just as it can strain a marriage today. It makes the entire novel more realistic and relatable, and fully fleshes out Rosamond and Lydgate. Their flaws are showcased under financial pressure in a very honest way. Their conflict is what takes the novel beyond a simple romance. In fact, it could be the sequel to any romantic comedy movie.

That's not to say all the romances in this novel fail. Will and Dorothea's sweet, blossoming relationship is what spurred me to read to the end. Their journey is filled with great twists and turns of plot, and brings the whole book to a satisfying, believable conclusion. Their talent for great romances are where George Eliot and Jane Austen are similar.

As is true of so many of the 19th century novels, the elegant prose and wise musings of the author beautifully complemented the story. In the hands of another author, the same story could have been vulgar or boring, but the plot and prose worked together so well under George Eliot's intricate sentences. It's one of the reasons I love the classics: nowadays, novels (especially those for teens) have fast-paced plots with bare minimum sentences. It's as though authors have a toolbox full of state-of-the-art tools in front of them, but only use a simple hand screwdriver to tell the story. Eliot, and many other writers in her time, chose their words with great purpose, and wrote their message clearly. It's something that I, as an aspiring writer, try to learn from as I read Middlemarch.