Excellent prose in a style that I thoroughly enjoyed. ( )

Life in early 1800 England, class, religion etc. A mans life finally comes together after hardship and soul searching. ( )

A slow start for me to “get into” the book, but as I read I became more absorbed in the story. This was my first reading of a George Elliot book and has whetted my appetite for more (probably starting with Middlemarch). The tale of Marner, growing up in a closed religious community, who is betrayed by his best friend and cast out. Arriving in the village of Raveloe, he lives the life of a reclusive weaver, feared and avoided by the villagers because he is so different (and keeps himself apart). The loss of his beloved (in the absence of human love) gold, leads to despair, until the child Eppie comes into his life. The descriptions of village life, hierarchy, religious observance, neighbours brings the story to life. There is a happy ending, which works and comp,eyes the tale. A very enjoyable read and one for our book club. ( )

So why did I have so much trouble getting past the opening pages of this book sixty years ago? Apart from my general aversion toward any book assigned in high school, that is. That can’t be the entire reason, for I clearly recall how Thomas Hardy’s Return of the Native gripped me from the outset.
Perhaps I read the plot summary first in Masterpieces of World Literature in Digest Form. That was easier than braving Eliot’s daunting prose, but it does the book a disservice. There is little action in the book, and that little seems sentimental; some of the most dramatic events happen off-stage and don’t come to light until much later.
Yet I enjoyed the book this time from start to finish. The characteristic features of Eliot’s best books are here, too, in a briefer form. It made sense, therefore, that this was on our reading list as the introduction to one of the greatest English writers. There is her probing sociological observation and her psychological acuity. The set pieces that provide this, such as the description of a garrulous evening at the inn, can either seem to impede the plot (teenage me) or be savored on their own. The squire’s New Year’s ball is just one scene in which the author gives us a window into country customs that were disappearing even when Eliot wrote. And I’m certainly more receptive to Eliot’s continued processing of her youthful evangelical phase in her exploration of the muddled, inarticulate sentiment of church and chapel than I would have been back then.
This is the package in which the plot is only one element. And knowing what happens going in served a different purpose. Then, it was the only thing that got me a passing grade. Now, it enabled me to savor the pacing of how it unfolded.
It’s said youth is wasted on the young. Perhaps that’s true of good books as well. But I’m not sure. I’m glad I was exposed to these books, even though they defeated me at the time. I’m also happy I’ve lived long enough to return to them with the experience of reading good and bad books in the meantime. ( )

I read this book as a part of the Book Riot Read Harder Reading Journal Challenge. Specifically for the challenge to "reread a book you read in school". I had first read this when I was fourteen. I am to be forty-seven in nine days.

I loved this book then, and I do now. The language is beautiful and rich. As is typical of its age, this Victorian novel is didactic; however, the lessons are presented comfortably within the story in a way that doesn't feel preachy. Furthermore, the outcomes for all persons are satisfying, even perhaps fulfilling.

As a fourteen-year-old, I related most to the child in the book despite her not appearing until the last quarter of the book. I had sympathy for Silas, but the girl loomed large in my mind. As an adult, I understand far more than I would like Silas' sense of betrayal and mistrust.

But the biggest revelation of this reading challenge was one of self.

Along with this book I likewise adored Heaven by V.C. Andrews at that time, which I also reread this year, though with far less pleasure, as part of the challenge. Partway into this book, I found myself rather mystified by this, puzzled by how complex the human mind is that these books could, at that age, be equally adored by me.

However, as I was making notes in my reading journal after finishing this book, it hit me. There is a connection between these books. Both of them feature an orphan who is taken in by other people. Both are children with dead mothers and fathers that are neglectful. Fourteen was rock bottom for me. My mother's abuse reached its peak and would remain at that plateau for the next three years. I longed for her death; though I was unable to face that consciously. My father's drinking was also at its worst. He was passed out drunk when I needed him most.

Human beings are truly complicated. ( )