Silas Marner by George Eliot – A book review

Silas Marner is a weaver. And so is George Eliot. 

As Marner relentlessly, dedicatedly and dolefully weaves for the village folk, so does not Eliot; she pauses every now and then, she smells the blossom, she listens to the gossip of the multitude, she gives in to the blind faith of the rustic brethren, she runs her hand lovingly over the simplicity of neighbours, through her needle she looks into the cunningness and heartlessness of the affluently powerful and while doing so, infuses in the pages, one after the other, a warmth the reader isn’t ready to forsake.

Stabbed in the back by one considered closest, Marner takes his craft to the village of Raveloe where he lives a life of solitude. In the village, where being neighbourly isn’t an option, Marner has made himself an outcast; the village folk leave him alone. At intervals, incidents happen that not only change the course of his life but also the way he lives it and the way people change their thoughts about him. From losing his money to theft - the sole happiness in his life then, to the finding, keeping and making of Eppie his daughter, Marner’s life transcends his misfortune.

Silas Marner is pure in his thoughts. And so is George Eliot with her characters.

Eliot effortlessly contrasts beliefs of the poor and the rich, of the simple and the powerful. Is it naivety, ignorance or goodness in Mrs.Winthrop, one of Marner’s uneducated neighbors to declare that she hardly understands anything that the priest preaches in church but has the thought that it definitely has to be good? In fact, she goads Marner to go to church, to listen, to be accepted, for Eppie to be accepted.

On the other hand, the design of thoughts of the elite Casses are so hurtful but deemed pragmatic by them. How easily the frivolous Dunsey Cass starts thinking about Marner’s money, to beguile him out of it and starts anticipating what he’ll do with it even when it’s not his. What gives him the right to think and decide for others? And how different is Godfrey Cass, the sensible son, who reprimands himself for lying, believes he has a conscience but lays his entire life on deceit? And he too attacks Marner; this time unlike his brother, the imposition is for much more than money. Eliot unveils the rich class to show how money brings in complacency, an inevitable confidence and an ego which ridicules their thoughts and carries them away from being sensible.

I found a strange purity, simplicity and calmness in Eliot’s writing. The reader is never kept in suspense, though the characters are. It’s there and you know it but still keep reading for the joy of it, to feel, to laugh, to shame, to feel sorry, to despise and ultimately, to rejoice in the plainness of Marner’s life.

The edition I read has an introduction by Q. D.Leavis which is equally interesting and full of thoughts on the lives in and around the times of the story and the author.

My rating: * * * * * * * * * * - 8/10

Pictures courtesy of:

George Eliot picture - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Eliot

Book cover - https://www.pinterest.com/pin/480900066436057124/

'The woman who walked into doors' by Roddy Doyle – A book review

A lady on a swing, a full smile, a happy one. Night time for sure, a disappearing tinge of blue in the black. Probably the moonlight, probably not. There’s something eerie about the cover. And it makes me wonder, walk into or walk through; is it to do with the supernatural? And then I read praises written on the back cover and they put my mind to rest and I venture on.

‘Walk into’ it is! Bang! Again. And again. And again. Battered, bruised, shattered, broken, bleeding, hurt – inside and out, dead – almost – inside, not out. But unnoticed. No veil, yet unnoticed. Invisible.

How did you get that? – I walked into a door. So sad. Ha ha ha.

Paula was born an O’Leary, had to fall in love to be a Spencer. Married at 18 to Charlo, this the story of Paula’s married life. If it can be called one. Married - yeah, life – not very sure. Set up in a suburb of Dublin where girls were either sluts or not, and boys were either a good ride or not.

Paula is a good ride, thinks Charlo. Charlo is a good ride, thinks Paula.

And one day Paula is there on the floor. And the next day too. And as Paula lies curled up, whimpering on the floor almost every day, or night, or the times in between, the author writes on. He takes you there; in the bedroom, in the kitchen, in the bathroom. You look and that’s all you can do. All you can do is nod grievously as the bottle takes over her.

Roddy Doyle’s brilliance is evident in Paula’s humoring herself and her life. Please don’t tell me she actually believed love still existed; till the very end. Did it, Mr. Doyle? Or is it that unseen, empowering shit called positive thinking where you train your mind to believe things. “He loves me. He can’t live without me. He said that.”

The gory violence is only subdued by her relentless pursuit for normalcy, a hope that negates despair. And in the end it is the mother in her that fights back; the wife is merely a believer, the mother thankfully treads the path beyond the realm of belief. The beast is finally put in place.

Roddy Doyle is a powerful writer. He’s drilled a hole into Paula’s mind. He’s managed to connect the wires to a giant screen and he sees and he writes. There is no tarnishing, there are no blemishes as he captures the ramblings. Paula talks to you; she does. And more often than once you want to scream, ‘Get up bitch, get a life. Wake up, wash your face, lose your pain, lose him’. And you do. Compelling!

And I look at the cover again. Is that a toothless smile I see? Is that a black eye hidden by a shadow? Let’s see, no, can’t be a broken finger curling on to the chains. Or is it?

My rating : * * * * * * * * * * (9/10)

Cover image - https://blankbooks.co.za/obz/20182-the-woman-who-walked-into-doors.html

Roddy Doyle image - https://www.rte.ie/culture/2017/0901/900835-reviewed-smile-by-roddy-doyle/