Embarked on a rereading of Middlemarch recently. I've been intending to include a couple, at least, of 19th century blockbusters on my list for the end of the year and this old favourite has been on my mind for quite some time. I've never felt that I've ever done the last third justice somehow. Other than the fall of Bulstrode there's really little I remember from this part. I suppose I've always been rushing just for the plot.
I was expecting to thoroughly enjoy a leisurely reading of Eliot's masterpiece, and this has been the case as I find myself about a quarter of the way through - but I found an unexpected obstacle to an effortless reading of the early chapters. To my surprise I was almost reluctant to read the early stuff on Dorothea and Lydgate too closely or analytically simply because I knew it was all going to end in tears. The fact they are in the process of making dreadful mistakes regarding their respective partners in marriage was painful this time round, rather than merely salutary. I kept thinking of the time Noi and I watched the BBC's most recent dramatization of the novel (the one featuring Robert Hardy as Dorothea's father) and how Noi reacted so forcefully to their mistakes. She knew just how badly wrong they were getting things based on her enormous good sense, but she also felt for them, and it's this capacity to feel for others that can make reading genuinely painful.
I remember my old mate Tony Steel telling me he couldn't see the point of reading a novel with a sad ending. At the time he said it, I thought him naïve. Now I'm not so sure. But I'm still looking forward to suffering along with the good, and bad, people of Middlemarch.
No comments:
Post a Comment