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3.53 AVERAGE
3.53 AVERAGE
emotional
hopeful
lighthearted
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
In the nineteenth century, men didn't typically adopt children by themselves. Even today, it's a relative rarity -- when a single person adopts a baby, it's usually a woman.
But the exception proves the rule in "Silas Marner," George Eliot's novel about a hermit-like weaver whose life is changed forever when a child wanders into his house. While Eliot explores the pliancy of gender roles and qualities, at heart this is just a heartwarming story about love and family. The ending is rather predictable and a little sappy, but it's a pleasant glimpse of English village life in the 1800s.
Weaver Silas Marner moves to the town of Raveloe, and takes up residence far from other people. Nobody knows why, except for the readers -- he was betrayed by his best friend, dumped by his girlfriend, framed for a robbery and expelled from his church. He also suffers from cataleptic seizures, as if life for him didn't suck enough. Now he wants just to be alone in his remote house, and hoard the gold that he earns over fifteen years of weaving cloth.
Then one night, the squire's dissolute younger son Dunsey Cass steals his gold and vanishes from the town, leaving Silas without the one thing he has come to love. Meanwhile, Dinsey's older brother Godfrey is freaking out because of an ill-advised marriage to a poor drug addict, which would probably get him disinherited if his strict father knew.
But then the wife is found frozen to death in a blizzard, and her toddler child -- Godfrey's daughter -- wanders into Silas' house. And to the surprise of all Raveloe, Silas declares that since "it's a lone thing—and I'm a lone thing," and that he's going to care for the child from now on. This adoption will not only change Silas' life, but Godfrey's as well -- and as the child Eppie grows to adulthood, will finally bring about the admission of long-hidden secrets.
As a woman who wrote serious literature in a time when women's literary skills were scoffed at, George Eliot knew something about the bendability of gender roles. Even though the main character is a heterosexual male, she subtly positions him as having a strong feminine side -- he has a job associated with femininity ("you're partly as handy as a woman, for weaving comes next to spinning"), he's the perceived successor of the local hedgewitch, and he has nothing to do with the "manly man" pursuits of boozing it up in the local pub every night, as literally all the local men do.
And, of course, he cares for a young child with the tenderness and soft-heartedness that was usually attributed to women, not men. And yet, Eliot never treats this character with anything but respect -- he is not seen as less than other men because he has traditionally feminine traits, but as MORE. And these traits are ultimately what brings him happiness, love and friendship from everyone in the community.
But while Silas is the center of the story, Eliot fleshes out the village of Raveloe with deft strokes, from the wealthy (Godfrey and his insufferable girlfriend/wife Nancy) to the ordinary working-class folks whose lives intersect with Silas'. And she knows both the good and bad of these communities -- they have good hearts and kindness, but they also tend to be kind of judgmental and ignorant of people different from themselves. The best example of this is Dolly, a smart, take-charge woman who becomes Silas' best friend and advisor.
And twined together with Silas's story is the story of Godfrey, whose life withers as Silas' blooms. He's essentially a very weak man who shies away from telling the unpleasant truth to anyone, and misses out on fatherhood because of it. It's hard to see why he is so enamored of Nancy, though -- she's a rigid, moralistic priss who holds everyone to her impossibly high standards (for instance, she's opposed to adoption because she's decided, based on nothing at all, that it's against God's will).
The story's biggest problem? Well, in some regards the story is rather predictable, with a heartwarming ending that borders on sappy. More subtle handling is given to Silas revisiting his old home, and discovering what has come of the betrayals he's suffered.
"Silas Marner" is a fascinating little novella, twining together a story about love and family with a subtle message on gender roles. Not bad for such a simple little story.
But the exception proves the rule in "Silas Marner," George Eliot's novel about a hermit-like weaver whose life is changed forever when a child wanders into his house. While Eliot explores the pliancy of gender roles and qualities, at heart this is just a heartwarming story about love and family. The ending is rather predictable and a little sappy, but it's a pleasant glimpse of English village life in the 1800s.
Weaver Silas Marner moves to the town of Raveloe, and takes up residence far from other people. Nobody knows why, except for the readers -- he was betrayed by his best friend, dumped by his girlfriend, framed for a robbery and expelled from his church. He also suffers from cataleptic seizures, as if life for him didn't suck enough. Now he wants just to be alone in his remote house, and hoard the gold that he earns over fifteen years of weaving cloth.
Then one night, the squire's dissolute younger son Dunsey Cass steals his gold and vanishes from the town, leaving Silas without the one thing he has come to love. Meanwhile, Dinsey's older brother Godfrey is freaking out because of an ill-advised marriage to a poor drug addict, which would probably get him disinherited if his strict father knew.
But then the wife is found frozen to death in a blizzard, and her toddler child -- Godfrey's daughter -- wanders into Silas' house. And to the surprise of all Raveloe, Silas declares that since "it's a lone thing—and I'm a lone thing," and that he's going to care for the child from now on. This adoption will not only change Silas' life, but Godfrey's as well -- and as the child Eppie grows to adulthood, will finally bring about the admission of long-hidden secrets.
As a woman who wrote serious literature in a time when women's literary skills were scoffed at, George Eliot knew something about the bendability of gender roles. Even though the main character is a heterosexual male, she subtly positions him as having a strong feminine side -- he has a job associated with femininity ("you're partly as handy as a woman, for weaving comes next to spinning"), he's the perceived successor of the local hedgewitch, and he has nothing to do with the "manly man" pursuits of boozing it up in the local pub every night, as literally all the local men do.
And, of course, he cares for a young child with the tenderness and soft-heartedness that was usually attributed to women, not men. And yet, Eliot never treats this character with anything but respect -- he is not seen as less than other men because he has traditionally feminine traits, but as MORE. And these traits are ultimately what brings him happiness, love and friendship from everyone in the community.
But while Silas is the center of the story, Eliot fleshes out the village of Raveloe with deft strokes, from the wealthy (Godfrey and his insufferable girlfriend/wife Nancy) to the ordinary working-class folks whose lives intersect with Silas'. And she knows both the good and bad of these communities -- they have good hearts and kindness, but they also tend to be kind of judgmental and ignorant of people different from themselves. The best example of this is Dolly, a smart, take-charge woman who becomes Silas' best friend and advisor.
And twined together with Silas's story is the story of Godfrey, whose life withers as Silas' blooms. He's essentially a very weak man who shies away from telling the unpleasant truth to anyone, and misses out on fatherhood because of it. It's hard to see why he is so enamored of Nancy, though -- she's a rigid, moralistic priss who holds everyone to her impossibly high standards (for instance, she's opposed to adoption because she's decided, based on nothing at all, that it's against God's will).
The story's biggest problem? Well, in some regards the story is rather predictable, with a heartwarming ending that borders on sappy. More subtle handling is given to Silas revisiting his old home, and discovering what has come of the betrayals he's suffered.
"Silas Marner" is a fascinating little novella, twining together a story about love and family with a subtle message on gender roles. Not bad for such a simple little story.
A wonderful story of redemption and the unexpected ways of Providence.
I don't know why I pushed off reading this one so long! It was unexpectedly sweet. It helps that I found a really good audio recording and read it of my own volition, I suppose. At any rate, I came in with very low expectations and found it unexpectedly charming. The moral of the story is a tad too on the nose to be really a favorite, but I understand why Eliot is famous for her characterizations. She does a lovely job painting village life. I might even seek out her other work.
(I am kind of confused by Silas's former life. He lived with charismatics on a city or something?)
(I am kind of confused by Silas's former life. He lived with charismatics on a city or something?)
emotional
hopeful
reflective
slow-paced
The first time I read Silas Marner, I read it with my daughter, a book I assigned her for our homeschool. I liked it. It was sweet. But I saw it through the eyes of a 9th grader. While I knew she would enjoy its sweetness, I didn't think it appropriate to force her to see more than she was ready to see for herself, or appreciate what Eliot might have had to say about faith, community and self-knowledge. So, we didn't go there. I didn't want to ruin the book for her, and I hope that when she is older, she, too, will revisit this book and see it for the beautiful little gem that it is. I am so happy that I did!
I love Victorian age books where thinkers of all sorts were trying to figure out what effect the industrial revolution would have on their society. While the Victorians believed they were on the cusp of creating a paradisiacal world with their advancements in science, medicine and industry, there were those who could take a look around and see that all was not moving in the direction that everyone hoped. Writers like Dickens, Eliot and Gaskell understood that this new society was rife with the problems of greed, displacement and its attending loss of community and tradition, and the simple fact that when the world undergoes a significant amount of change in a short amount of time, nobody really knows how to react. Eliot examines these themes (and more) in Silas Marner.
Though the book is primarily the story of how Silas comes to be separated from the world and then how he rejoins it, it is by no means only his story. It is also Godfrey's story. Where Silas has to overcome the things that were done to him that stand in the way of his being a full participant in his community, Godfrey has to figure out a way to be a fully integrated participant in his own life, to get over his ennui and and its resulting indifference, to make amends for the things he did that made him unable to life his life to the fullest. And of course, it's also Eppie's story, but she is presented to us as a whole person, who understands, interacts with, and explains the world as it really is.
All of this is great for the literature nerd who enjoys reading to gain a deeper appreciation for the art, to understand the world a little better and to have an image reflected back that reveals, not just mirrors. But Silas Marner has something for anyone who loves a good character driven novel. The writing is rich, but not too dense. It's easily understandable if you will give your brain a few minutes to adjust to the language of the past. Eliot's imagery is stunning. Her ability to convey emotion is truly touching. Her understanding for the human condition is comforting. She doesn't pass judgement on her characters, and asks that we read them with compassion. They are flawed, just like we are flawed, and she doesn't want us to come away thinking that we are in some way superior than her creations. I think she wants us to understand that redemption is possible and open to all who will take the time to recognize themselves and have faith that human sympathy, love and our higher nature can prevail.
I love Victorian age books where thinkers of all sorts were trying to figure out what effect the industrial revolution would have on their society. While the Victorians believed they were on the cusp of creating a paradisiacal world with their advancements in science, medicine and industry, there were those who could take a look around and see that all was not moving in the direction that everyone hoped. Writers like Dickens, Eliot and Gaskell understood that this new society was rife with the problems of greed, displacement and its attending loss of community and tradition, and the simple fact that when the world undergoes a significant amount of change in a short amount of time, nobody really knows how to react. Eliot examines these themes (and more) in Silas Marner.
Though the book is primarily the story of how Silas comes to be separated from the world and then how he rejoins it, it is by no means only his story. It is also Godfrey's story. Where Silas has to overcome the things that were done to him that stand in the way of his being a full participant in his community, Godfrey has to figure out a way to be a fully integrated participant in his own life, to get over his ennui and and its resulting indifference, to make amends for the things he did that made him unable to life his life to the fullest. And of course, it's also Eppie's story, but she is presented to us as a whole person, who understands, interacts with, and explains the world as it really is.
All of this is great for the literature nerd who enjoys reading to gain a deeper appreciation for the art, to understand the world a little better and to have an image reflected back that reveals, not just mirrors. But Silas Marner has something for anyone who loves a good character driven novel. The writing is rich, but not too dense. It's easily understandable if you will give your brain a few minutes to adjust to the language of the past. Eliot's imagery is stunning. Her ability to convey emotion is truly touching. Her understanding for the human condition is comforting. She doesn't pass judgement on her characters, and asks that we read them with compassion. They are flawed, just like we are flawed, and she doesn't want us to come away thinking that we are in some way superior than her creations. I think she wants us to understand that redemption is possible and open to all who will take the time to recognize themselves and have faith that human sympathy, love and our higher nature can prevail.
Quick, fun read and surprisingly witty (esp 무비판적인 종교적 교리 수용에 대해) but does it transcend the boundaries of its time? Doubtful.
My expectations were enormous given how much I enjoyed Middlemarch earlier this year. Perhaps unsurprisingly then, this novel fell well short. The complexity of the human beings that inhabit Middlemarch was sorely lacking from the characters in this novel, most of whom felt pretty one note. Even the plot failed to have a satisfying payoff--the entire backstory set up by the beginning of the book is essentially orphaned by the rest of the novel. Silas Marner reads like a desperate attempt by Eliot to give a loner central character a child, no matter what convoluted plot turns and lazy characterizations were needed to get there. I only rate it as high as three stars because I suspect I'm being too harsh.
What a touching well written story!! It could be rewritten and updated to current times and be a best seller......book & movie!