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A deep and thought provoking text. I found it hardwork as the language is of its time and my lazy modern mind is used to lighter sentences. It was worth the effort though.
DNF at 40%
"Mrs. Torrington was sure she would never sleep in her bed if she lived among blacks;"
I've loved Silas Marner, The Mill on the Floss, and Middlemarch.
My reading of Eliot stops here. The same thing happened for me as I worked my way through Dickens.
I choose what I read and there are far too many classics that don't include discussions that are racist, or stereotypically racist characters.
"Mrs. Torrington was sure she would never sleep in her bed if she lived among blacks;"
I've loved Silas Marner, The Mill on the Floss, and Middlemarch.
My reading of Eliot stops here. The same thing happened for me as I worked my way through Dickens.
I choose what I read and there are far too many classics that don't include discussions that are racist, or stereotypically racist characters.
Oddly, Daniel Deronda both constructs its greatness and, at the same time, shows itself grievously flawed through a doubling or setting up of parallel narratives, loosely linked by the title character, which take way too long to barely touch. The critical stance on the flaw is longstanding: Eliot knew very much about the interior of young women's minds and the upper class marriages of her British peers, but, quite obviously, she knew a lot less about Europe's Jewish community and thus the marriage (or not) of these two worlds produces a sort of lopsided novel, full of insight and tragic beauty in the one narrative, and naive pseudo-racism in the other.
While this is quite evidently true, or at least my reading concurred with the critical consensus before I knew of it, the sheer audacity and ultimate beauty of the attempt here to find common ground between late nineteenth century Zionism and the marriage habits of the English Gentry, and the wonderful theme of human, societal, and kinship relationships--what we owe to others and they to us, both our co-nationals, parents, family and even friends--is rather astounding. Thus five stars for the sheer chutzpah to attempt such an ambitious project. It does, in fits and starts, actually work, even as it utterly fails occasionally. Yet its success and failure hinge so closely upon the same thing, the very core of what the narrative seeks to do, that there's no imaging another version or a correction, it just is what it is, a glorious near miss, missing only because it aims so much higher than 99% of the other novels ever written.
Some of the parallels are obvious: the woman who was forced by an evil parent to sing and act when she didn't want to and the woman who had to break the bonds of her evil parent in order to do the singing and acting that she longed to do, but also more subtle as all of the characters represent various types of parents, or friends, or relatives, or spouces. We see those who abandon relationships for personal realization, and those who renounce themselves to serve family or race, as well as the struggle of the major players to do both, perhaps even at the same time. Thus the theme of human responsibility to one another rings true and important in the novel. It's not didactic, but rather presented as a kind of spectrum, inviting us to measure our own engagement with others through the panorama of relationships that it presents. This greatness of this theme, then, makes the flaws of passages, the naiveté of certain portraits and scenes, seem rather unimportant at tale's end--yet they were annoying at times as I read.
While this is quite evidently true, or at least my reading concurred with the critical consensus before I knew of it, the sheer audacity and ultimate beauty of the attempt here to find common ground between late nineteenth century Zionism and the marriage habits of the English Gentry, and the wonderful theme of human, societal, and kinship relationships--what we owe to others and they to us, both our co-nationals, parents, family and even friends--is rather astounding. Thus five stars for the sheer chutzpah to attempt such an ambitious project. It does, in fits and starts, actually work, even as it utterly fails occasionally. Yet its success and failure hinge so closely upon the same thing, the very core of what the narrative seeks to do, that there's no imaging another version or a correction, it just is what it is, a glorious near miss, missing only because it aims so much higher than 99% of the other novels ever written.
Some of the parallels are obvious: the woman who was forced by an evil parent to sing and act when she didn't want to and the woman who had to break the bonds of her evil parent in order to do the singing and acting that she longed to do, but also more subtle as all of the characters represent various types of parents, or friends, or relatives, or spouces. We see those who abandon relationships for personal realization, and those who renounce themselves to serve family or race, as well as the struggle of the major players to do both, perhaps even at the same time. Thus the theme of human responsibility to one another rings true and important in the novel. It's not didactic, but rather presented as a kind of spectrum, inviting us to measure our own engagement with others through the panorama of relationships that it presents. This greatness of this theme, then, makes the flaws of passages, the naiveté of certain portraits and scenes, seem rather unimportant at tale's end--yet they were annoying at times as I read.
Finished, finally! I'm not sure what I was thinking when I picked up this nearly-900 page novel on a whim last month-- something to the effect of, "Oh, I'll just plow right through this real quick before I get on to the next thing." So, moral of the story, this is not a quick read. Don't take it on your next beach vacation.
It was, however, so much more than I expected. I was hoping for a love story as beautiful and elevating as Middlemarch, and what I got instead was a love story about Judaism. Considering the prejudice that was clearly prevalent at the time, I really admire Eliot's mission to renounce (delicately, subtly) the harsh judgment of Jews in 19th century England.
It was, however, so much more than I expected. I was hoping for a love story as beautiful and elevating as Middlemarch, and what I got instead was a love story about Judaism. Considering the prejudice that was clearly prevalent at the time, I really admire Eliot's mission to renounce (delicately, subtly) the harsh judgment of Jews in 19th century England.
This is really 4 1/2 stars, rounded up. I love her writing, and the story is a good one, it has to be to keep the reader's attention for almost 1000 pages. But man, even though I know I need to read this bearing in mind the time in which it was written, it still just irked me endlessly when everyone just talks about Jewish people like they are less than human or some kind of extra-terrestrial beings who speak an unintelligible language. And this is true even with characters who are themselves Jewish. I should instead be glad that Eliot wrote a book sympathetic to the aliens rather than irritated that she portrayed them in a way I don't like, but there you have it. Read it anyway.
did not really land for me. dreading writing a paper on this one
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Amazing book, except for the parts about Daniel Deronda.
Estou profundamente irritada. Até antes do casamento da Gwendolen, a história estava ok, embora os personagens sejam um pouco entediantes desde o início. Mas a partir desse momento, as coisas se tornaram irritantes. Entendo que a quebra de uma promessa seja algo realmente digno de pesar a consciência, mas a motivação não era clara? O bem estar da mãe não é o suficiente para redimir Gwendolen em sua própria consciência? E qual a explicação para essa obsessão que ela tem com o Deronda, a ponto de ceder a ele a responsabilidade de servir como compasso moral? Sinceramente, não a entendo, e não acho nem justo, nem certo que ela seja corroída por culpa quando era óbvio que o Grandcourt jamais se casaria com a Sra. Glasher, ou apenas por ter pensamentos ruins (especialmente quando esses são tão bem justificados. Abuso psicológico ainda é uma forma de violência).
A história pessoal do Deronda, por outro lado, já não foi tão frustrante. Embora eu ache muita presunção da parte dele julgar a Gwendolen e se colocar como alguém de moral tão absurdamente superior. Ele não faz isso com a Mirah, mesmo quando ela demonstra submissão e fragilidade. A mensagem sionista é questionável, claro, mas acho que tudo bem desde que nem ele, nem o Mordecai acreditam ser necessário matar palestinos para organizar os judeus.
A mensagem da submissão incomodou. Nós saímos de toda aquela independência feminina vista em Middlemarch para cair nessa exultação da submissão. Gwendolen, que inicia o livro indômita, tem seu espírito esmagado e castigado injustamente, até virar uma sombra do que ela havia sido, enquanto a dócil Mirah vive seu grande amor dos sonhos, sua submissividade (primeiro ao pai, depois a Deronda e ao irmão) reconhecida e recompensada. Ugh. Dai-me paciência.
A história pessoal do Deronda, por outro lado, já não foi tão frustrante. Embora eu ache muita presunção da parte dele julgar a Gwendolen e se colocar como alguém de moral tão absurdamente superior. Ele não faz isso com a Mirah, mesmo quando ela demonstra submissão e fragilidade. A mensagem sionista é questionável, claro, mas acho que tudo bem desde que nem ele, nem o Mordecai acreditam ser necessário matar palestinos para organizar os judeus.
A mensagem da submissão incomodou. Nós saímos de toda aquela independência feminina vista em Middlemarch para cair nessa exultação da submissão. Gwendolen, que inicia o livro indômita, tem seu espírito esmagado e castigado injustamente, até virar uma sombra do que ela havia sido, enquanto a dócil Mirah vive seu grande amor dos sonhos, sua submissividade (primeiro ao pai, depois a Deronda e ao irmão) reconhecida e recompensada. Ugh. Dai-me paciência.
A phenomenal read, so ambitious it hurts. Eliot is a true master and was way ahead of her time. Daniel Deronda might be a too perfect character, always seeming to do the right and just thing, but the people around him are what make this book worth reading. Eliot's exploration of Jewishness and anti-Semitism is striking, and her prose is otherworldly.