A review by jonwesleyhuff
Silas Marner by George Eliot
3.0
I listened to this in audiobook form, as it was a free one from Audible, and I'm very glad of it because the wonderful reading by the late Andrew Sachs helped a great deal in illuminating some of the archaic phrasing and bringing it to life. I read this because I've been wanting to engage with more "classic" literature, but I have to be honest I got worried after I started in and started seeing people mention they were assigned this in school. Although I have always loved books and reading, I can think of precious few "assigned readings" that I truly loved. That being said, I found Silas Marner to be an intriguingly written tale that left me wanting to know more about George Eliot (aka Mary Ann Evans.)
The study of "regular townsfolk" here is so well done, precise, and may seem depressingly familiar and unchanged in some respects. The chapter devoted to townspeople going on and on about not much of anything in the bar was actually very funny in parts, rendering some of the characters equal parts infuriating and endearing.
Silas is shown to be an outlier, and the writing is very clearheaded in asserting that such outliers are regarded with suspicion by the townspeople for no good reason at all. The book strikes me as excitingly (surprisingly) suspicious of both religion and "civilized" people. I'll have to research more about how the novel was received at the time, because 1861 feels very generically "long ago" that I feel like aspects of this might have been seen as shocking to some readers.
Although I think there might be the temptation of thinking the novel "reforms" Silas by integrating him with society with society via a child, that's now how I see it. In fact, I'd be pretty irritated if that was the general theme of the book. Every step of the way, Eliot has shown religion as either abusive or disconnected from a higher power. The townsfolk are suspicious and superstitious. And "higher society" (by way of the Cass brothers) is both rotten to the core, and cowardly.
Silas Marner leaves religion behind because he believed in it too much, and it failed him utterly. Although his love of his hoard of money can be seen as a negative, I feel like Eliot takes pains in showing it to be cold comfort versus something as simple as "money is evil." The money is not valued by Silas for its worth, really. It could have been anything. It's just a hollow pursuit for Marner to obtain. It's less a moral failing of Marner's, in the eyes of the book, and more of a security blanket.
The thing is, Marner remains a moral figure throughout the book. Although the arrival of someone else to care for changes him, I feel like it's less about "ONE MUST HAVE CHILDREN!" and more "loving someone else is part of what gives life meaning." So, while this gives Marner an enriching purpose to his life, the fact is that the townspeople have nothing to do with this. He is essentially the same person, he's just more "acceptable" to the townspeople. But, I think the novel has firmly established that the townspeople are terrible and capricious in their judgement. It's a good outcome for Silas only because people have finally seen that he is, as he has always been, a good person.
The ending is really beautiful, as Silas finally decided to confront his past—to see if he might be redeemed in the eyes of the church and people who did him wrong. But there's nothing there. It's all been completely wiped away out of memory.
I read Silas Marner as a rejection of religious and social constructs (both of which can be incredibly unfair and biased) as temporary things, whereas love—real, unselfish love—as enduring.
The study of "regular townsfolk" here is so well done, precise, and may seem depressingly familiar and unchanged in some respects. The chapter devoted to townspeople going on and on about not much of anything in the bar was actually very funny in parts, rendering some of the characters equal parts infuriating and endearing.
Silas is shown to be an outlier, and the writing is very clearheaded in asserting that such outliers are regarded with suspicion by the townspeople for no good reason at all. The book strikes me as excitingly (surprisingly) suspicious of both religion and "civilized" people. I'll have to research more about how the novel was received at the time, because 1861 feels very generically "long ago" that I feel like aspects of this might have been seen as shocking to some readers.
Spoiler
Although I think there might be the temptation of thinking the novel "reforms" Silas by integrating him with society with society via a child, that's now how I see it. In fact, I'd be pretty irritated if that was the general theme of the book. Every step of the way, Eliot has shown religion as either abusive or disconnected from a higher power. The townsfolk are suspicious and superstitious. And "higher society" (by way of the Cass brothers) is both rotten to the core, and cowardly.
Silas Marner leaves religion behind because he believed in it too much, and it failed him utterly. Although his love of his hoard of money can be seen as a negative, I feel like Eliot takes pains in showing it to be cold comfort versus something as simple as "money is evil." The money is not valued by Silas for its worth, really. It could have been anything. It's just a hollow pursuit for Marner to obtain. It's less a moral failing of Marner's, in the eyes of the book, and more of a security blanket.
The thing is, Marner remains a moral figure throughout the book. Although the arrival of someone else to care for changes him, I feel like it's less about "ONE MUST HAVE CHILDREN!" and more "loving someone else is part of what gives life meaning." So, while this gives Marner an enriching purpose to his life, the fact is that the townspeople have nothing to do with this. He is essentially the same person, he's just more "acceptable" to the townspeople. But, I think the novel has firmly established that the townspeople are terrible and capricious in their judgement. It's a good outcome for Silas only because people have finally seen that he is, as he has always been, a good person.
The ending is really beautiful, as Silas finally decided to confront his past—to see if he might be redeemed in the eyes of the church and people who did him wrong. But there's nothing there. It's all been completely wiped away out of memory.
I read Silas Marner as a rejection of religious and social constructs (both of which can be incredibly unfair and biased) as temporary things, whereas love—real, unselfish love—as enduring.