The other day it was said I chose the book so that I can get a better view of the real character of Casaubon, whom I first encountered in Foucault’s pendulum (Umberto Eco, I guess, never hid that the character came from George Eliot’s work). In that regards, it was disappointing.
Casaubon, as I discovered quite some time after starting the reading by an eye-opening accident, is claimed to be probably the first literary character in history who most certainly had autism/Asperger’s, but I found his trouble underdeveloped in the book. He really, really died too early. He managed to leave a string of venom after him, and yet his daily poisonous existence could have used some more elaboration.
Spoilers alert here. While the following are more of my reflections of some characters rather than revealing the plot, some of it is named well… evidently.
Interestingly yet, if I was to name the most capturing relationship in this book, it would definitely be Lydgate and Rosamond’s. The passages about Lydgate "had" me from the very beginning. Shamefully, I have to admit that having forgotten much of the beginning – I would get stuck (and put the book away) multiple times exactly at the place where the town of Middlemarch gets all worried about his frivolity and families start putting him into the track of marriage. Do I need to reread the first chapters? Probably so.
So Lydgate came to Middlemarch as the worst combination of traits I could see in a man myself. Today most probably he would be an embodiment of a callous player, “work hard play hard” (I still wonder who, in what context put the phrase into the mouth of the person who told me this the last time, it was out of place and certainly out of character) type, a workaholic by day, a pick up artist by Friday night, noncommittal, not holding himself to account for how his action and attitude affects Rosamond (who grows to adore him).
And yet, what happens when Lydgate marries Rosamond is mind-boggling. After a 180 turn, he simply is good to her. No need to be pushed or told what to do any longer… he goes overboard, literally… That goodness that is driven from within the person – the ultimate dream of probably every romantic heart on this planet. We all want nothing more than that kind of goodness and care that Lydgate carries in himself, naturally. Rosamond really got much, much more than she “shopped for”. Really. That is even incredible.
A man giving first of all of himself unconditionally, and of material goods when he can? Yes please. Any time (pun intended).
Lydgate-married man would have been a heroic spouse of today. But not for Rosamond. Poor thing, The “Five Love Languages” was not available back in 19th century. She too, seemingly makes a 180 turn, which is not a turn in general direction, but a regression into herself. The growing emotional distance, the tension, the conflict, frustration turning to despair and yet again mixing up with hope and ever-present gentleness in their relationship are so well described that those passages kept me breathless, anxious, alarmed even. At times, annoying random memories would spring up out of their interaction, and I would go through several pages of the book while not really reading it (at the end, I got rather good at it by closing my eyes and replacing any thoughts by an endless “bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz” until they, the thoughts, stop – and I plan to apply the method in my daily life from now on). So powerful those bits were. I wonder if I should see what people for whom literature is a profession are saying about that marriage. Maybe I’ll give a try to the google scholar articles interim before another book (but I do not see articles that would address Lydgate-Rosamond interaction, as of yet…).
Rosamond is just interesting as Lydgate. At present day, she would be that someone, the elusive “daddy’s girl”, the person whom I envy of good starts at the life game, but whom I will probably never be able to crack when it comes to the basics of “getting what she wants” art. A spoiled girl who grew in a perfect environment learning to manage her loving father, Rosamond believed herself strong, but in reality was incredibly weak of character. I would guess the women like her became the main body of either “flower power” or feminism just one hundred years later. She betrayed and deconstructed her marriage not by explicit misbehaviour, but by taking small steps that compounded into a serious pile of trouble. And however throughout the book, she was protected from herself by her very peculiar mindset… the one with no space for self-reflection, empathy, or remorse. And yet… seemingly she ended very well, by her own measurement.
The biggest heart nomination from me goes to Mr. Garth (sorry, Dorothea!). The man takes the project of his daughter’s happiness with such a grand dignity and (unwarranted, even) compassion to Fred… Securing both, making sure he harnesses any chance of misfortune, giving it time… No matter how good people are to anyone in our days… some things are brought to this world only by a true dedication of a father.
To Dorothea, of course, I am thankful for the fierce determination and clarity of mind. That she did not brake under Casaubon’s power. That she mourned, but did not allow herself to suffer after he was gone. That she was the fairness herself. And that she chose the right thing: love over ambition, family and happiness over wealth.
"That was a wrong thing for you to say, that you would have had nothing to try for. If we had lost our own chief good, other people's good would remain, and that is worth trying for. Some can be happy. I seemed to see that more clearly than ever, when I was the most wretched. I can hardly think how I could have borne the trouble, if that feeling had not come to me to make strength."
Thinking of Middlemarch as a society, the singular thing that sticks out is that despite the provincial tumor of intrigue, there is a general attitude to not let a neighbor, a member of the community, sink. That is something makes me believe that this old history is what will help the brits to get through today’s “austerity measures” fastest in the entire EU.
I’ll probably limit myself to news-only this week, and then decide what to do book-wise. My reading circle is reading Conan Doyle’s Redheaded League this month. It’s overwhelming how much Victorian era writing I have NOT yet read (is it because of sheer length of those works?). The good thing about this Victorian passion is that the books are all public domain. I wonder if I would have enough tenacity for Hugo’s L’homme qui rit – that would be the lengthiest project in French so far… Then I heard of good recommendations of spy novels on France24. Then the time comes for some steampunk. Somewhere in between, I’m sure I’ll find a moment for Moberg and Enquist, and Le Clezio, and Murdoch. Enquist is a problem because most of his works were not translated to English (what’s up Swedes, WHY not? Makes me wonder about those descendants of Swedish emigrants from the 19th and early 20th centuries who take pride in identity, but aren’t they interested in any culture?). As for Moberg, I am a proud owner of the four famous tomes in Swedish and hardcovers, and yet the language there is pretty archaic Swedish, so a simple dictionary is not too much of help. Oh My! So much to read all of a sudden.
By the way, e-ink rocks my world. I would just love to figure out how to attach some led lighting to my chin (would be lovely if it was chargeable is some way without involving disposable batteries, which is an issue with Kandle and seemingly all the others): the e-paper is not exactly a “matte” thing, unless the main light source hits it at a 90 degrees angle.
