Saturday, September 17, 2011

Review: Silas Marner

Somehow I made it through school without having to read Silas Marner. If what Susan Hallender said is true, then I think that's a good thing. One sure way of killing great literature is to force a person to read it. I'm very grateful for Wordsmith's selection of this classic. I may never have read it otherwise, because unfortunately it has that taint of being "a book you read for school."

If I were a young person, I know I would have had a hard time completing the book. At one point I couldn't figure out Eliot's point in suddenly introducing the townsfolk through their lengthy discussion in the pub. Who are all these people and why should I care? For I while I put the book down because I cared about Silas and Eppie too much and feared something really awful would happen to them.

A good writer doesn't waste anything, and Eliot is a good writer. Tension is natural in any love story; she doesn't have to do anything really awful to her characters to keep you interested. And the scene in the pub is, after all, important because this isn't just a story. It's an examination of civic life. How do people live together? What orders their lives? How do they handle crises? How do they treat strangers?

It's also an examination of faith versus reason. Lantern Yard seems to represent a hyper-spiritual community, where faith is mistaken for mysticism and superstition. Knowledge and reason are mistrusted. It doesn't eradicate envy and greed, theft or falsehood. It doesn't know what to do with them.

Raveloe villagers, in contrast, have things, enjoy food and drink, go to church irreligiously. It isn't devoid of faith at all, as evidenced by the hearty exhortations of Dolly Winthrop. People know what they believe and have woven it into the fabric of their lives. (Nice metaphor, eh?) At least they behave correctly toward Silas, and they remind him to behave correctly, too. I'm thinking of the scene where Silas accuses a fellow who's been in his home of taking the gold. Another man reminds him of the law against presuming guilt until it's proven, a law derived from the scriptural requirement of two or three witnesses. They accept Silas, they help and seek justice for him. They support him in his adoption of Eppie. It's not accidental that Lantern Yard ceases to exist, overtaken by the Industrial Revolution, while Raveloe thrives.

Eliot seems to admire the natural and rustic. She writes of "unnurtured souls" and "least-instructed human beings" as being capable of the highest, finest qualities.

"There is hardly a servant-maid in these days who is not better informed than Miss Nancy; yet she had the essential attributes of a lady -- high veracity, delicate honour in her dealings, deference to others, and refined personal habits. . . ."
Aside from Silas, I found the character of Godfrey Cass most interesting. He was complex. There was more actual tension in the story concerning him. Would he sacrifice himself? Would he do right by Nancy? What kind of man was he? Would he insist on having his way? Would he ruin everything?

Nancy's a little flat, but she asks herself a good question, with which I'll close: "I can do so little -- have I done it all well?"

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