Author: George Eliot
Paperback: 218 pages
Publisher: Watermill Press
Publish Date: 1983
Miscellaneous: Mary Ann Evans was born in Warwickshire, England on November 22, 1819. Under the name of George Eliot, she wrote several novels including Adam Bede, The Mill on the Floss, and Middlemarch. George Eliot died in London on December 22, 1880.
Unlike the gold which needed nothing and must be worshiped in close-locked solitude – which was hidden away from the daylight, was deaf to the song of birds, and started to no human tones – Eppie was a creature of endless claims and ever-growing desires, seeking and loving sunshine, and living sounds, and living movements; making trial of everything, with trust in new joy, and stirring the human kindness in all eyes that looked on her. The gold had kept his thoughts in an ever-repeated circle, leading to nothing beyond itself, but Eppie was an object compacted of changes and hopes that forced his thoughts onward, and carried them far away from their old eager pacing towards the same blank limit… The gold had asked that he should sit weaving longer and longer, deafened and blinded more and more to all things except the monotony of his loom and the repetition of his web; but Eppie called him away from his weaving, and made him think all its pauses a holiday, reawakening his senses with her fresh life, even to the old winterflies that came crawling forth in the early spring sunshine, and warming him into joy because she had joy.
And when the sunshine grew strong and lasting, so that the buttercups were thick in the meadows, Silas might be seen in the sunny mid-day, or in the later afternoon when the shadows were lengthening under the hedgerows, strolling out with uncovered head to carry Eppie beyond the Stone Pits to where the flowers grew, till they reached some favorite bank where he could sit down, while Eppie toddled to pluck the flowers, and make remarks to the winged things that murmured happily above the bright petals, calling “Dad-dad’s” attention continually by bringing him the flowers. Then she would turn her ear to some sudden bird-note, and Silas learned to please her by making signs of hushed stillness, that they might listen for the note to come again: so that when it came, she set up her small back and laughed with gurgling triumph. Sitting on the banks in this way, Silas began to look for the once familiar herbs again; and as the leaves, with their unchanged outline and markings, lay on his palm, there was a sense of crowding remembrances from which he turned away timidly, taking refuge in Eppie’s little world that lay lightly on his enfeebled spirit.
As the child’s mind was growing into knowledge, his mind was growing into memory: as her life unfolded, his soul, long stupefied in a cold narrow prison, was unfolding too, and trembling gradually into full consciousness.
-Silas Marner by George Eliot, pages 149-151
Silas Marner by George Eliot tells the story of the socially withdrawn weaver. Once in love and a vibrantmember of society, Silas was betrayed by his best friend, who framed him as a thief who stole church money in order to steal Marner’s fiance. Silas leaves the land where he has always lived and moves to the southern English country communtity of Raveloe, a town that is far out of the way of the main roads and therefore has retained its simpler, pastoral beliefs and ways.
For fifteen years Silas works at his loom, usually sixteen hours a day, seven days a week, in pursuit of his only companion, the gold guineas he receives as pay for his work, and shuns all society. However, when he falls victim to a robbery that separates him from his 270 pounds that he had hoarded over the years, he begins a journey of reclamation and healing. The arrival of Eppie, the gold-haired girl he, at first, mistakes as his returned gold, slowly reawakens feelings of faith, trust and love within him.
But… can it be meant to last?
I vaguely remember reading Silas Marner in high school as part of the advanced English Honors program. As I read through this a second time, I remembered why. Eliot’s language is slow and thick, at times mind-numbingly so, and some of the descriptions of the society of a bygone era drug on and on with the inane details of gowns and cows and ghosts and blah blah blah. I found myself wishing for a good Austen novel. And now I’m not nearly as convinced I want to crack open Middlemarch, a book at least three times the length also by Eliot.
I did, however, love the story itself. I felt such sympathy and excitement for Silas as I followed him through all his heartaches and then as rejoiced with him as Eppie, the orphaned child who came into his life by chance, becomes the salvation of his humanity and restores all that he once lost.
A few years ago, Hollywood modernized this story in a movie starring Steve Martin as Silas. The movie is “A Simple Twist of Fate,” and I recommend it to anyone interested in the story (don’t post hate comments for this, but I’d rather watch the movie than read the book any day!). Of course, the movie is not a substitute for the book as an assignment for school, but could be watched AFTER you’ve read it.
Obviously, Silas Marner by George Eliot is a literary classic and therefore has merit, but it’s definitely not my favorite classic. I give Silas Marner 3 out of 5 stars.
Filed under: Book Reviews Tagged: | 19th century, A Simple Twist of Fate, adopted father, biological father, blackmail, Christianity, classism, country life, death, England, english literature, gambling, Gold, greed, hidden marriage, Hollywood, hurt, lies, miser, orphan, robbery, secrets, shame, sibling rivalry, Steve Martin, weaver