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Silas Marner

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'Silas Marner' by George Eliot is a classic novel set in the early Nineteenth Century, telling the tale of a weaver named Silas Marner who isolates himself in a small village after facing betrayal in his hometown. The story revolves around Silas's transformation from a bitter recluse to a loving parent figure when he adopts an orphaned child, Eppie. The book explores themes of redemption, love, and the power of human connection, all set in a rural English backdrop before the Industrial Revolution. George Eliot's writing style is praised for its dialogue, dialect, diverse characters, and empathetic portrayal of the poor, making it a timeless and moving tale.

Characters:

Characters are pivotal in illustrating themes of redemption, love, and social critique, ranging from morally complex individuals to simpler, more archetypal figures.

Writing/Prose:

The writing style is characterized by its elaborate descriptions and psychological depth, typical of the Victorian era, which may alienate some modern readers.

Plot/Storyline:

The narrative centers on Silas Marner's journey from isolation to redemption, primarily driven by his experiences of betrayal, loss, and the transformative love for the child he adopts.

Setting:

Set in a rural English village during the early 19th century, the setting plays a crucial role in shaping the themes of community and isolation.

Pacing:

The pacing fluctuates, with an initially slow build setting the scene before quickening in the latter half as key events unfold.
In the days when the spinning-wheels hummed busily in the farmhouses—and even great ladies, clothed in silk and thread-lace, had their toy spinning-wheels of polished oak—there might be seen in distri...

Notes:

The book is about Silas Marner but also features many other characters.
Eppie, the child, appears only in Chapter 12, which is halfway through the book.
The cover illustration is misleading as it depicts Eppie as a 2-year-old in rags, not as she is described in the book.
The beginning of the book has a slow pace with lots of background stories.
Silas is betrayed by his friend and leaves Lantern Yard for Raveloe, where he becomes a recluse.
Silas finds joy only in the gold he hoards until it is stolen.
The book includes rich details about village life and dialects, which can be challenging to read for modern audiences.
Godfrey Cass, another key character, hides his marriage and struggles with his feelings for Nancy Lammeter.
Eppie and Silas develop a deep bond, representing the transformation of Silas from a miser to a loving father figure.
Themes of religion, community, karma, and the conflict between love and material wealth are prevalent throughout the novel.

From The Publisher:

Having been accused of theft and hounded out of a religious community many years previously, the weaver Silas Marner now lives alone in the village of Raveloe, hoarding the precious wealth he earns. But when Silas's beloved gold is stolen, and an orphaned girl finds her way into his home, he is given the opportunity to transform his selfish and embittered life.

George Eliot's favourite novel - rich in symbolism, humour and social criticism - Silas Marner is one of the great nineteenth-century portrayals of rural life.

Ratings (20)

Incredible (3)
Loved It (9)
Liked It (2)
It Was OK (4)
Hated It (2)

Reader Stats (35):

Read It (21)
Want To Read (11)
Not Interested (3)

2 comment(s)

Loved It
1 week

I think that when I first read this book I gave it five stars. Not quite the case now but still enjoyed the story a lot. George Eliot was a great writer and I felt very invested in the characters and plot.

 
It Was OK
6 months

In the days when the spinning-wheels hummed busily in the farmhouses—and even great ladies, clothed in silk and thread-lace, had their toy spinning-wheels of polished oak—there might be seen in districts far away among the lanes, or deep in the bosom of the hills, certain pallid undersized men, who, by the side of the brawny country-folk, looked like the remnants of a disinherited race.

I have mixed feelings about

Silas Marner. Structurally it’s strange, bookended as it is by the story of Silas himself but with the middle spent on the Cass brothers whose soap opera of a story (entertaining in theory—I was not expecting drug abuse to be a theme) is a bit of a slog, perhaps because their connection to Silas is not made clear until the latter part of the novella. As much as I absolutely loved the beginning, with its fairytale-esque setup and Eliot’s gorgeous prose, the middle really derailed the book for me.

It doesn’t help that Eliot gives her provincial characters a commercially thick dialect that’s jarring and difficult to disentangle. And her writing otherwise is generally more than a little dense. It makes for difficult going.

I will say that Eliot is brilliant at writing intimate, vulnerable moments between married couples, and she makes a powerful point about the corrosiveness of secrecy and unconfessed sin. And I really did love Silas’s story.

But overall, this was definitely not my favorite.

Some favorite passages:

In that far-off time superstition clung easily round every person or thing that was at all unwonted, or even intermittent and occasional merely, like the visits of the pedlar or the knife-grinder.

To the peasants of old times, the world outside their own direct experience was a region of vagueness and mystery: to their untravelled thought a state of wandering was a conception as dim as the winter life of the swallows that came back with the spring; and even a settler, if he came from distant parts, hardly ever ceased to be viewed with a remnant of distrust, which would have prevented any surprise if a long course of inoffensive conduct on his part had ended in the commission of a crime; especially if he had any reputation for knowledge, or showed any skill in handicraft.

the eccentric habits which belong to a state of loneliness.

But while opinion concerning him had remained nearly stationary, and his daily habits had presented scarcely any visible change, Marner’s inward life had been a history and a metamorphosis, as that of every fervid nature must be when it has fled, or been condemned, to solitude.

Minds that have been unhinged from their old faith and love, have perhaps sought this Lethean influence of exile, in which the past becomes dreamy because its symbols have all vanished, and the present too is dreamy because it is linked with no memories.

Every man’s work, pursued steadily, tends in this way to become an end in itself, and so to bridge over the loveless chasms of his life.

But Anxiety went on, though in noisy Christmas company; refusing to be utterly quieted even by much drinking.

Molly knew that the cause of her dingy rags was not her husband’s neglect, but the demon Opium to whom she was enslaved, body and soul, except in the lingering mother’s tenderness that refused to give him her hungry child.

She needed comfort, and she knew but one comforter—the familiar demon in her bosom; but she hesitated a moment, after drawing out the black remnant, before she raised it to her lips. In that moment the mother’s love pleaded for painful consciousness rather than oblivion—pleaded to be left in aching weariness, rather than to have the encircling arms benumbed so that they could not feel the dear burden. In another moment Molly had flung something away, but it was not the black remnant—it was an empty phial. And she walked on again under the breaking cloud, from which there came now and then the light of a quickly veiled star, for a freezing wind had sprung up since the snowing had ceased.

only soothed by sweet porridge and warmth into that wide-gazing calm which makes us older human beings, with our inward turmoil, feel a certain awe in the presence of a little child, such as we feel before some quiet majesty or beauty in the earth or sky—before a steady glowing planet, or a full-flowered eglantine, or the bending trees over a silent pathway.

Thought and feeling were so confused within him, that if he had tried to give them utterance, he could only have said that the child was come instead of the gold—that the gold had turned into the child.

And when the sunshine grew strong and lasting, so that the buttercups were thick in the meadows, Silas might be seen in the sunny midday, or in the late afternoon when the shadows were lengthening under the hedgerows, strolling out with uncovered head to carry Eppie beyond the Stone-pits to where the flowers grew, till they reached some favourite bank where he could sit down, while Eppie toddled to pluck the flowers, and make remarks to the winged things that murmured happily above the bright petals, calling “Dad-dad’s” attention continually by bringing him the flowers.

Foremost among these advancing groups of well-clad people, there are some whom we shall recognize, in spite of Time, who has laid his hand on them all.

Often the soul is ripened into fuller goodness while age has spread an ugly film, so that mere glances can never divine the preciousness of the fruit.

“But you wouldn’t have married me then, Nancy, if I’d told you,” said Godfrey, urged, in the bitterness of his self-reproach, to prove to himself that his conduct had not been utter folly.

At last Godfrey turned his head towards her, and their eyes met, dwelling in that meeting without any movement on either side. That quiet mutual gaze of a trusting husband and wife is like the first moment of rest or refuge from a great weariness or a great danger—not to be interfered with by speech or action which would distract the sensations from the fresh enjoyment of repose.

when the great lilacs and laburnums in the old-fashioned gardens showed their golden and purple wealth above the lichen-tinted walls,

 

About the Author:

Mary Ann Evans was born on November 22, 1819, at Chilvers Coton, Warwickshire, England, the last child of an estate agent. During her girlhood, she went through a phase of evangelical piety, but her strong interest in philosophy and her…

 
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