Knight's theories have become commonplaces. The idea that Hamlet is a bad guy? The theories the Duke of Measure for Measure and Timon of Athens are Christ figures? All those are propounded for (as far as I know) the first time in this eloquent book. Aside from having famous theories, Knight supports his claims, which at first can seem absurd, with mountains of evidence gathered from a fine-toothed reading of the text. He never makes obvious points or fallacious arguments; he starts out by noticing fine details in the text and then draws these into a coherent, convincing whole. I don't agree with every word he's ever written, but all his words are brilliant. Knight is the best literary critic I have ever read, by a wide margin, and this may be his best book.

I began reading Middlemarch to hate it. Although I had enjoyed other period dramas such as Jane Eyre (despite the often ridiculous plot), I couldn't help but feel that any book that was dragged out to over 900 pages was long-winded at best. I am pleased to say that I proved myself wrong, after I had a startling revelation about chapter 10 that I had actually enjoyed the book thus far. The charcters, whilst not all particularly likeable, are no doubt believable &, in some cases, such that we can sympathise & even relate to them. I should think that any reader would judge Dorothea's fascination with Casaubon to be misguided, but George Eliot herself asks us to be sympathetic, as lots of people, even in this day & age, make the same mistakes.

I have heard it said that Middlemarch is boring. Far from it. In fact, Middlemarch relates to modern society much in the same way that the Chrisitan principles of the Bible can still be practised. For example, the book says a lot about the nature of marriage & love, as well as politics & even such personal issues as integrity & honour. You simply have to read the book with an open mind.

For me, the book was mainly about Dorothea Brooke & Dr Tertius Lydgate, as we follow both characters from courtship, into marriage, and from there, unhappiness. Both marry for the wrong reasons - Dorothea to be some sort of secretary to the father-figure she lacked in her upbringing, and Lydgate because he sees Rosamond as an ornament that looks good with him. In both cases, even if we do not agree with the descisions of the charcters, we can at least take an interest in their lives, as well as sympathise with them, identify with them, and such forth.

Whilst I would not recommend Middlemarch to just anyone it is definately a good book, and well worth a read for more than the fact that it is one of the great recognised literary works.

It's comparatively easy to describe things as we wish them to be than to describe them as they really are. With "Middlemarch", George Eliot has accomplished one of the truly difficult tasks in literature: to describe things as they really are and still hold the reader's interest with less than exceptional characters.

"Middlemarch" was Eliot's attempt to describe a pre-reform English country town. Within the novel we run across the typical characters like the wealthy land owners, clergymen, polticians, etc. The book primarily revolves around the actions of two families, the Brookes and the Vincys.

The main characters are Dorothea Brooke and Tertius Lydgate, a newcomer to Middlemarch. Dorothea has an independent mind at a time when women were supposed to be openly subservient to men. She intends to do much good in the world and is constantly drawing up 'plans'. Lydgate is a physician who wants to make improvements in the medical field. He has a solid idea of what he wants to do with his life and how to accomplish it.

Through these two characters, Eliot presents the frustrations and joys to which we can be driven because of an idealistic mind. Both Dorothea and Lydgate are idealists. Both encounter many trials because of their idealism, trials that they overcome in their own ways.

In "Middlemarch" Eliot also makes a statement about marriage. Dorothea and Lydgate's problems stem almost entirely from bad marriages. They each go into their own marriages with distinct impressions of how married life will be and both are very disappointed when the reality of the situation becomes obvious.

"Middlemarch" is one of those novels that it is difficult to explain why one likes it. The plot is predictable, the characters are unexceptional, and the time period isn't particularly interesting. However, Eliot has constructed a masterpiece with this novel that few have matched. Perhaps the genius of George Eliot is that she could do so much with so little.

There are several wonderful, astute customer comments below so I will just add one thing. In addition to being an astonishingly well-crafted portrait of society, of marriage, of individual dreams and disappointments, I believe that Eliot wrote Middlemarch as a mirror for the reader to examine his or her own life--somewhere in this vast novel, if we are honest, we can all find someone like ourselves--and to realize that each choice we make, each of our relationships, provides us with the opportunity to affect the lives of those around us in either positive or negative ways. So often readers hold books at arms' length; it is easy to pass judgment on others, whether on characters in a book, or on our neighbors. Few books combine brilliant story-telling with profound moral value. Middlemarch is one such book. Do not hesitate to read it!

Felix Holt occupies a middle-tier in the critical estimation of Eliot's novels. It is often disparaged as the "political novel," or alternatively "the one where the legal subplot is way too complicated."

At first, this seems unfair. The early introduction of Mrs. Transome is a showstopper, heroine Esther Lyon fascinates, and the detailed evocation of 19th century rural politics is through Eliot's narrative magic made riveting.

But things do go awry in the second half. A big problem is Felix himself: an idealization of a political view rather than a detailed character, the reader loves him rather less than Eliot seems to intend. The legal schenanigans are intriguing, but the tortuous plot machinations through which Felix comes to be imprisoned are near ridiculous. And finally, Esther experiences her moral conversion rather too quickly and tidily, coming to seem just a sketch for Gwendolyn Harleth in the later Daniel Deronda. Indeed, by book's end the most compelling plot thread standing is that of the unfortunate Mrs. Transome.

But to say a book isn't as good as Daniel Deronda isn't much of a criticism. For all its faults, Felix Holt is filled with excellent characters, a strong story, and unparalled insight into both 19th century England and the more universal collisions of morality and politics.

This is my 4th novel by George Eliot (after "Adam Bede", "Middlemarch" and "The Mill on the Floss") and it has become my favourite along with "Middlemarch". "Felix Holt" is so marvelously written and gave me many hours of reading pleasure - I can't understand why it's not as highly acclaimed or well-known as Eliot's other novels.

If you're a fan of Victorian literature, then you mustn't miss this brilliant work. The story's set in the 1830s and is 1/3 focused on politics (i.e. a fascinating insight into the electioneering process and the fight for a Parliamentary seat between the Torys and the Radicals), 1/3 on family and sensational issues (e.g. illegitimacy, dispute over who has the legitimate claim on the wealthy estates of the Transome family and plenty of blackmail, manipulation and betrayals) and 1/3 devoted to a love triangle.

George Eliot wrote so eloquently and beautifully that many times I find myself re-reading a particular phrase in order to saviour its beautiful words. Each chapter also starts with either a beautiful poem or some well-chosen lines from Shakespeare/the Classics. Here's a favourite of mine from Chapter 45 (a poem by Eliot):

"We may not make this world a paradise
By walking it together with clasped hands
And eyes that meeting feed a double strength.
We must be only joined by pains divine,
Of spirits blent in mutual memories".

I confess that above all, it is the suspense over the touching love story that kept me turning the pages very quickly. The hero is Felix Holt, a passionate, idealistic young man who studies medicine but chooses to quit midway and forgo a comfortable future as a doctor in favour of leading the more righteous life (in his opinion) of an ordinary, poor workingman because of his scorn for wealth and its corrupting powers. Felix is described as honest, brusque, generous and highly intelligent. He's got "wild hair", dresses simple and to his own liking e.g. not wearing a cravat "like all the other gentlemen", and sometimes looks like a "barbarian". He patronizes no one and is rather unpopular in the town of Treby Magna where the story takes place. His political views are Radical (i.e. more severe than the Liberals) but his main concerns are for the well-being of the working class and especially the future of their children. (Read the excellent "Address to Working Men by Felix Holt" which comes after the Epilogue). Felix's good intentions land him in great trouble with the law later on when a massive riot breaks out among the drunk working class directly after the election and Felix is wrongly accused of being the leader of the mob.

Early on in the novel, Felix is introduced to the heroine, Esther Lyon (the beautiful daughter of a poor chapel minister) whose vanity and high-bred manner he scorns. He rebukes and lectures her constantly in that straight-forward and honest manner of his because he cares to improve her views on what are truly the important things in life. Esther dislikes him utterly at first... she cannot understand why Felix doesn't admire her beauty and graceful manners like other young men do. Esther is vain and proud (at least, initially) and has always dreamed of leading a better life, with fineries and beautiful clothes and servants to do her bidding. And Felix Holt is definitely not her idea of a lover! But Esther is not unkind or ungenerous - she loves her father dearly and treats everyone well. Gradually, she begins to see the true nature of Felix's character and noble aims, and holds him in great esteem, despite his outward looks and manners. But Felix has declared never to marry and if he were ever to fall in love, he would just "bear it and not marry" (preferring to "wed poverty"). Later in the novel, Esther is courted by the rich and handsome Harold Transome whose initial reason for wooing her is to save his family estates. But he doesn't count on falling in love with her subsequently.

Who does Esther ends up with finally: Felix or Harold? But take it from me that the romantic scenes between Felix and Esther are the most passionate and heart-wrenching I've ever come across in a classic literature - with many kisses and hugs amidst pure longing and despair, and scenes filled with beautifully spoken words of affection which brought tears to my eyes.

For many, many reasons, "Felix Holt" makes for a most brilliant read. I urge you not to miss it.

Some might say nothing can equal Middlemarch as Eliot's greatest work but I think that even if Felix Holt doesn't rank alongside it in literature, it should be given at least an equal status.

The novel deals with provincial politics in nineteenth century England through the mouthpiece of one of the best male protagonists ever drwan in literature by a female writer. As in all her books, Eliot is sharp in her details, the satire is poignant and she doesn't miss out on humor. Feminism takes a different turn here, with telling criticisms on the way females were brought up at that time and in many third world countries, still are brought up.

Eliot is never bitter, never hopeless, yet always realistic and idealistic with this difference: she doesn't let it get out of control. Fear not: mawkish is the last thing this book is. Some details might seem to be superfluous but it adds up to showing the literary prowess of this great woman, and is very helpful in letting you understand the real stuff going on at that time. A good, very well-written socio-political novel, that depicts the atmosphere of its time with more accuracy than many other books I've read.

Eliot does have the most amazing ability to get into her characters' minds. although this book is an all rounder in the sense that it comments on most social issues, the two main intimate themes of the books are personal to the central character, Felix, the most "alive" hero of nineteenth century literature: his politics and his love interest, in herself a very compelling and subtly drwan character.

Worth reading for all Eliot, Dickens, and Hardy fans. Will definitely give you two or three new opinions: even if the time period is different, much of the philosophy of the book is still very relevant.

Romola is constantly called Eliot's weakest novel, with even serious critics reluctant to praise it. However, it was seen in the 19th century as Eliot's masterpiece. Some of the blame for the novel going out of fashion must rest with F.R. Leavis who said that "few will want to read Romola a second time, and few can ever have got through it once without some groans." If Leavis, viewed as one of the great literary minds, thinks this, then more average readers like us are bound to be put off.

True, the start of Romola is bogged down in detail, but it is introduced by a wonderful, stirring and majestic 'Proem' which sees the Angel of the Dawn sweeping across the Earth and loftily states how humanity is the same now as it was when Romola is set. After this, the notes are best ignored - consult them separately, and concentrate on getting into the book. It is a stirring and sometimes hard read, and moves one with awe at what Eliot has created - you really feel you are experiencing Florence in the 15th century. There is one scene that stands out for me - the haunting and almost surreal episode where Romola drifts by boat to an apparent coastal haven. Images of peace and life are reversed disturbingly.

So ignore Leavis and the dissenters. If you've read another Eliot, you'll like it. If you haven't, maybe start with something else, but come back, for it's a rewarding read

Given the majority of Eliot readers begin with Middlemarch, I found myself in the unique position of not only beginning with Romola, but also on a subject that I find most interesting. That of Renaissance Italy. Beginning at the death of the great Lorenzo di Medici in '92 I read this great novel twice. Once quickly as any other Twenty-First century paperback; the second, slowly, with more respect for the intellectual scope within the pages.
After the first attempt I was mildly disappointed. I came away with no true sense of the whole that is fifteenth century Florence and a bewilderment at the inconsistent central characterisation of Tito Melema and his golden-haired wife, Romola. The supporting actors were brilliant, from Fra Girolama's fantatical Catholicism to Bratti's salesmanship. But I was left disappointed, believing in the superficality of Tito, the maddening naivety of Tessa, and the almost puritanical martyrdom of Romola.
So I re-read it. Slowly.
It is now extremely clear why this great work of english literature is, as Eliot herself puts it, a "book of mine which I more thoroughly feel that I swear by every sentence as having been written with my best blood".
Each scene is mesmerically depicted, the infintesimal attention to details and Eliot's total control of her subject matter shines through.
Renaissance Florence wasn't so well depicted by its contemporaries.
From Tito's waking at the Loggia de' Cerchi to his final fall at the Ponte Vecchio his character moves through a full range as you would expect from a man in his early twenties. His child-like mesmerism coupled with his Greek tutorage gives rise to a cherubic man whom Florence loves. His fatal flaw is his desire for love and a single terrible lie he gives that, like Murphy's Law, evolves into a a stigma that alters his very persona. What is all the more damaging is that you truly believe he is unaware of the pain he causes. He is truly egocentric, in an almost blameless way. For Romola, you cold argue the opposite. Indeed she is potentially more culpable. Her fierce intellectualism is offset by a descent into a world of religious supersition, a world where religion is used as a political tool. Throughout she has the knowledge of where her actions will take her and a terrible sense of duty and restrains her. From the beginning, with the story we hear so often of Tito's escape from drowning, to his final near drowning at the hands of the mob, to his strangulation by his father there is a certain bitter justice until all that he leaves is his proud and world-scarred wife Romola and the innocence that he preserved with Tessa. Tito's move from innocent 'hero' to startled villain is an excerise in human failings. Yet it is not a sufficient single human tragedy, as Eliot says, "Florence was busy with greater affairs, and the preparation of a deeper tragedy".
In many respects 'Romola' is Eliot's King Lear. The parallels are many, including Baldessare's depiction. There is no Edgar, nor Edmund but the Fool is here in many guises. In taking one of Shakespeare's finest themes, Eliot has given true life to fifteenth century Florence and it is, perhaps, best encapsulated by Romola's final statement to Tessa's son, Lillo:
"There was a man to whom I was very near... who made almost everyone fond of him, for he ws young, and clever, and beautiful...I believe, when I first knew him, he never thought of anything cruel or base. But because he tried to slip away from everything that was unpleasant, and cared for nothing else so much as his own safety, he came at last to commit some of the basest deeds - such as make men infamous."
So, Eliot's 'Romola'. Read it, delight in it because it truly is, as the author can rightly claim, one of the finest works in english literature.

Yes, it bristles with Glossaries and Appendices and Notes like so much barbed wire. (And if you actually read the Penguin editor's introduction, it's a sure thing you'll never read the novel: she makes it sound like about as much fun as chewing rocks.) But don't let all that deter you. You may have some rough going at the beginning, mostly because Latin and Greek scholarship is so important to the plot. Use the notes and they'll enhance your enjoyment of the story, but ignore them and you're still in for a thrilling tale gorgeously told. Tito Melema is one of the great characters in fiction, and he's someone we all know: a thoroughly despicable human being who has no idea he's anything but a nice guy. Eliot has wrought a dreamy and hair-raising hybrid of fiction and history, infused with her own astonishing insight and complicated sympathy and delivered in her matchless prose. I loved this book.

ADAM BEDE is a thrilling read, though it may seem hard to believe given the unpromising setting and the stilted way Eliot introduces her story. But after the first few starchy chapters, abruptly, something wonderful happens: she gets wise to herself. It's as if you can see her realize that the upright characters she *thought* she was pinning her story on, dull Dinah and Mr Irwine, aren't really the stuff of which fiction is made -- so she shoves them aside and takes up the flawed characters of her triangle, who resonate with possibility at every turn. Suddenly, miraculously, with almost no warning, all Eliot's amazing gifts as a writer take center stage: Her psychological insight. Her phenomenal wit. The dramatizing genius that allows her, effortlessly, to plot the most intimate narrative developments against the gigantic backdrop of a county-wide feast or funeral. Her fearlessness and surefootedness in picking her way (and ours) through the tangle of social and class relationships of an entire village. In this embarrassment of riches, maybe most rewarding for a reader like me is Eliot's unerring ability to pay off her plots: here, ladies and gentlemen, is a writer who knows how to write the hell out of a climax -- George Eliot's big confrontation scenes never, ever disappoint.

Too, some wizardry seems to keep her narrative touch both incomparably delicate and completely unflinching at the same time. At the heart of ADAM BEDE is a story so sordid I wonder whether it could be broadcast on network TV today, and Eliot tells it without vulgarity but without ever shying away from its ugliness. My most serious criticism of the book is that Eliot didn't quite trust herself enough not to tack an unconvincing (and, worse, uninteresting) happy ending onto her story. But the hair-raising drive of the middle two-thirds of the book is something you'll never forget.

Highly recommended for those who loves classic literature. George Elliot beautifully captured the lives of the people in rural English country in the late 18th century and early 19th century. I guarantee you'll fall in love with all the 4 main characters ie. Adam Bede, Hetty Sorrel, Lord Arthur and Dinah Morris before you finish the book. The courting scenes involving Adam Bede and Dinah are both very romantic and honest. George Elliot had a great understanding of human nature which makes the story very believable although it's fiction. ADAM BEDE's a hero in my heart, and this book's a must read for all literature fans.

George Eliot weaves a simple story of love, suffering, and goodness. While the plot is hardly complex (boy loves girl, another boy gets girl, unhappiness abounds - also reused in Mill on the Floss), the manner in which Eliot develops her characters and their emotions and actions ring as true and resoundingly as a bell. It's so clear, so obvious, but also moving and textured. You feel Adam's absolute love for vain little Hetty, Dinah's calming grace, Arthur's good intentions, Lisbeth's fretting nature. Eliot draws you in with her honest observations of life in a country town, without the background becoming a dominant factor. The near idyllic life the characters lead is a healthy contrast to the town's emotional upheaval.

Adam is an upright, genuine character, and not as perfect as he seems. If his love for Hetty seems unfounded at times, it only serves to highlight how dangerous delusions can be. All the "sinners" are ultimately redeemed by truth - true love, true friends, true promises, and true acceptance. Religion plays a significant part in the novel, but don't let that deter you. It's so much more than that - Adam Bede is truly one of the few works that encompass a world of humanity between two covers.

AB reminded me of Tess of the D'Ubervilles a bit, but there is no villain here, just flawed, honest people in search of unattainable dreams. In the process of trying to get a bit of happiness, they stumble and bleed, but ultimately find something truly worth having. Bittersweetness is Eliot's trademark for good reason.

George Eliot's first full novel is obviously a bit less polished than her later works, but you see the wonderful command she has over language and expression. The book, the people, the story all come alive with her touch. A rare read that has something to say and says it beautifully.

This book needs to be back on College Philosophy and Religion reading lists! Never before have I read such a clear and obvious explanation of the religious mind. Wonderful translation and editing work by George Eliot make this a revolutionary work of religious philosophy. I'm a wife, mother, English Literature graduate and a spiritual seeker whose life was changed by reading Feuerbach's analysis of God as our subjective projection as Other. Please don't let your questing mind miss this one.

I read this book in search of the philosophical roots of Max Stirner, author of The Ego and Its Own. For this purpose, the book is excellent; you can see where Max Stirner came from on a number of issues that had hitherto seemed a bit cloudy to me - both in what Stirner reacts to and what he has drawn on.

The book is, however, a very compelling read in its own right as well. Feuerbach takes us through literally the whole catalogue of Christian belief, and shows us how each item of belief is explained at least as well - or perhaps even better - as an anthropomorphism rather than as a supernatural manifestation. It must be said, though, that each single one of his arguments on their own do not lead to such a conviction. Just like you are not convinced that the dice are loaded by getting 6 once or twice, you will not be convinced if anthropomorphism fits the bill of Christianity in a few single instances. However - analogously with the dice - when you strike 6 nearly every time, you will be convinced that the dice are loaded.

If I have a criticism of Feuerbach, it is that after he has revealed the Essence of Christianity as being the worship of Man, he keeps the essence and only discards the accidental properties of Christianity, i.e. the supernaturalism. This was also what Max Stirner called him on. But my disagreement does not mean a disparagement of the value of the book. So I recommend it as a read.

I read this book in search of the philosophical roots of Max Stirner, author of The Ego and Its Own. For this purpose, the book is excellent; you can see where Max Stirner came from on a number of issues that had hitherto seemed a bit cloudy to me - both in what Stirner reacts to and what he has drawn on.

The book is, however, a very compelling read in its own right as well. Feuerbach takes us through literally the whole catalogue of Christian belief, and shows us how each item of belief is explained at least as well - or perhaps even better - as an anthropomorphism rather than as a supernatural manifestation. It must be said, though, that each single one of his arguments on their own do not lead to such a conviction. Just like you are not convinced that the dice are loaded by getting 6 once or twice, you will not be convinced if anthropomorphism fits the bill of Christianity in a few single instances. However - analogously with the dice - when you strike 6 nearly every time, you will be convinced that the dice are loaded.

If I have a criticism of Feuerbach, it is that after he has revealed the Essence of Christianity as being the worship of Man, he keeps the essence and only discards the accidental properties of Christianity, i.e. the supernaturalism. This was also what Max Stirner called him on. But my disagreement does not mean a disparagement of the value of the book. So I recommend it as a read.

The happiest moments of a liberal arts education usually take place late in the evening in a dormitory lounge or in a local bistro over several cups of coffee. They're conversations, often between two similarly minded people, that explore a favorite subject. Browsing through Imagining Characters is like lingering in a seat at the next table.

The works selected are an English major's hit list of mainly nineteenth century women's novels. Byatt and Sodre bring their experience as a fiction writer and a clinical psychologist, respectively, to their understandings and develop complementary insights rather than rigorous debates.

This isn't everyone's cup of java. The reader who enjoys this volume probably relishes at least half of the novels discussed, smiles at being called a feminist, and prefers discussion to formal criticism.

To come to the point right at the beginning of my review, let it be said that "Japanese Buddhism" is an exciting and immensely rewarding book. The author, Sir Charles Eliot, served as British ambassador to Japan from 1920 to 1925 and both his knowledge of Japanese thought and culture as well as the fact that as a scholar he had dedicated his life to the study of Asian religions may have made him the one non-Japanese expert of his time best qualified to write on the subject. Sadly, Sir Charles did not live to see his work published as he died - shortly before its completion - in 1931, but thanks to the efforts of his publishers and of George B. Sansom, an eminent Japanologist who wrote the last chapter, the book was finally printed in 1935.

Apparently, "Japanese Buddhism" is complementary to an earlier work by Sir Charles on Hinduism and Buddhism. Nevertheless, he does well to again describe Buddhism as it originated in India and how it made its way to China and finally reached Japan during the sixth century, as the evolution of Buddhism in Japan cannot be completely grasped without knowing Buddhism's history in India and China. The book thus is divided into three parts: As mentioned above, the first part deals with the characteristics of Buddhism as it was (and still is) practised in India and China, the second part is dedicated to a general history of Japanese Buddhism from the sixth century till the end of the Tokugawa period (mid-19th century) whereas the third part explains in considerable detail those "sects" - or "schools", as they are most often called today - that arguably played a decisive role in shaping the particularly Japanese interpretation of the original Buddhist tenets, namely the schools of Tendai, Shingon and Zen Buddhism as well as the schools of Amidism and the one founded by the charismatic Nichiren.

What is remarkable about Sir Charles' book is that it has withstood expert criticism and continues to be an excellent portrayal of Japanese Buddhism in spite of the 65 years that have elapsed since it was first published. True, the book offers no information whatsoever on the development after 1868 and thus no mention is made of the disestablishing of countless Buddhist temples after the Meiji Restauration - let alone the so-called "new religions" (shinshukyo) that were organized as lay Buddhist movements and which appeared only after Sir Charles' death - but anyone interested in the pristine forms of Japanese Buddhism may confidently turn to Sir Charles' book. The only reason why I do not rate "Japanese Buddhism" a 5-star-book is that in my opinion the Jodo school - which evolved side by side with Zen Buddhism and the Nichiren school - is not given the attention it deserves. Apart from this minor weakness, however, this is a rather comprehensive book on the origins of Japanese Buddhism and offers fascinating reading for everybody interested in the subject.

Is George Eliot the world's greatest novelist? There's certainly an argument to be made, based on her classics Middlemarch and Daniel Deronda, which feature characters as complex and vividly, bafflingly alive as those of Shakespeare.

Yet today she seems curiously unread and under-appreciated, certainly in comparison to her contemporary, Charles Dickens. This has long mystified me, but perhaps I've found the solution in Mill on the Floss.

Seemingly the best known of her books, Mill on the Floss is certainly the one most frequently taught in high schools and colleges. And it's probably enough to guarantee that most students forced through it or its Cliff Notes won't bother with her again.

Not that it's a bad book. If you like Eliot, you'll find plenty of her riveting, obsessive characterization and dramatic psychology here. But along with these come a fractured, frustrating structure, a dearth of narrative drive, and endless passages of phonetic, "naturalistic" rural accents. Not to mention an ending so out of left field it seems to belong to an entirely different story. Unlike Middlemarch and Daniel Deronda, or even early but more successful novels like Adam Bede, Mill on the Floss is work, and its rewards are more modest.

Mill on the Floss seems to rate the academic attention because of its autobiographical elements, perhaps for its dazzling heroine, rather than its overall quality. So don't let an underwhelmed response to this fascinating if flawed book keep you from the rest of her amazing work -- she might be the best novelist out there.

The Mill on the Floss has one of the most appealing young girl characterss of all 19th c. literature--Maggie Tolliver. The relationship between her and her brother is at once beautiful, horrible, and probably indicative of much that was true for boys and girls in 19th century England. Whenever I read the book (and I've read it a few times), I am again in love with Maggie, delighted with the people around her, and saddened by the heavy events that bring her down. George Eliot doesn't pull punches--when you've read one of her books, you know you've been somewhere else, experienced something powerful

In THE MILL ON THE FLOSS George Eliot provides an insightful and intelligent story depicting rural Victorian society. Set in the parish of St. Ogg's, Maggie and Tom Tulliver endure childhood and young adulthood while experiencing the harsh realities of poverty, devotion, love, and societal reputation. I emphasized greatly with Maggie as I have experienced some of her own lived experiences. I truly loved every chapter of this book and didn't want it to end. It is indeed very rare that I have this type of reaction to a book. Although this book was published during the Victorian era, it's amazing how Eliot's prose flows virtually unobstructed. The reader is given a rare glimpse into rural life during the 19th century and is treated to how strictly structured society was then. I am now a fan of Eliot and look forward to reading her other novels.

Bottom line: THE MILL ON THE FLOSS is an excellent novel. Enjoy!

I enjoyed this book very much. The morals and lessons it teaches you are very important. It is the story of a lonely man, who because he was falsely accused of stealing and because this cost him all his relationships with people, he secluded himself in his lonely house along with all his gold that he saved up. He never spent his money because he enjoyed its company. His gold was his only companion for several years of his life. Then one day, he was robbed, and he no longer had anything worth living for.
Silas was slowly dying of misery and depression. He had no reason to live. Then one day a little girl walked into his house and into his life. Her mother died, leaving the baby girl as an orphan. So, Silas adopted her and took her into his home. She grew up a poor, hard-working girl who loved her new father Silas and vice-versa. Because of this new daughter of his, Silas changed for the better. He became more caring and devoted to someone else besides himself. He started to go to church again and changed his views on what really was important in life. And one day when his treasure was found and returned to him, he didn't even care for it. He had something even more precious than gold: someone to love and receive love from.

I first read Silas Marner when I was 18 years old, and loved every word. I started reading it again immediately after finishing it! As said in other reviews, perhaps 9th grade is indeed too early because at that age, this older language style is difficult to "get into" quickly enough to hold their interest. I found myself wrapped in this little town with its odd characters and gossip, and wished I'd lived there. The imagery is so strong and sweet I still refer to the scenery evoked by this novel when I read completely unrelated historical articles! The story itself cannot be called remarkable because it is one of the basic stories about humanity and what matters in life. Yet George Eliot surpasses all others in the telling of it. There is a reason this book is on all the reading lists -- it is a great achievement.

This is the uplifting story of Silas Marner, a 19th century English working man, who seems to be greatly wronged repeatedly by people in his community. As an elegible young man, a rival framed him out of greed as well as envy, leaving Marner wrongly accused of theft, upon which he relocates in a different locality. For some 15 years, Marner lives like a hermit, hording the money he earns as a weaver. Said to be "in with the wicked one", possessing strange magic, town folk avoid contact with the mysterious man. -- Suddenly, in short succesion, two events change the life of Master Marner forever, even restoring his faith in a Supreme Being and the good in his fellow man.

Without reveiling the surprises held by this wonderful story, I can highly recommend this book to readers of teen age and above. Written in a very high English, the writing style is that of an educated master of the language, uncommon to be written or spoken in this manner for some 100 years. Less difficult than Shakespeare, still challenging to a young person unfamiliar with countless terms and expressions that seem to be very dated.

As a teacher partial to language arts studies, I am very impressed by this book. I would recommend it for classroom use at the junior high school level or above. A masterpiece!*****