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Product Description
Product Description
It came to me first of all, quite suddenly, as a sort of legendary tale, suggested by my recollection of having once, in early childhood, seen a linen-weaver with a bag on his back; but, as my mind dwelt on the subject, I became inclined to a more realistic treatment. Falsely accused, cut off from his past, Silas the weaver is reduced to a spider-like existence, endlessly weaving his web and hoarding his gold. Meanwhile, Godfrey Cass, son of the squire, contracts a secret marriage. While the village celebrates Christmas and New Year, two apparently inexplicable events occur: Silas loses his gold and finds a child on his hearth. The imaginative control George Eliot displays as her narrative gradually reveals causes and connections has rarely been surpassed. Silas Marner (1861) is the shortest and most immediately accessible of Eliot's novels. She takes the materials of legend and fairy tale and provides them with a historically precise setting, drawing on some of the most advanced ideas of her day in order to represent states of mind and belief at the limits of rational perception. This edition, which is based on the carefully corrected text George Eliot prepared a few months after the first edition, is accompanied by an introduction which illuminates the intellectual context of what has often been presented as a nostalgic, sentimental tale.
About the Author
Terence Cave is Professor of French Literature in the University of Oxford and Fellow and Tutor in French at St John's College. He is also a Fellow of the British Academy. His previous publications include Recognitions: A Study in Poetics (Oxford, 1988, 1990), a translation of The Princesse de Clèves by Madame de Lafayette for World's Classics (1992), and an edition of Daniel Deronda (1995).
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
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First Sentence
IN the days when the spinning-wheels hummed busily in the farmhousesâ and even great ladies, clothed in silk and thread-lace,* had their toy spinning-wheels of polished oakâ there might be seen in districts far away among the lanes, or deep in the bosom of the hills, certain pallid undersized men, who, by the side of the brawny country-folk, looked like the remnants of a disinherited race. Read the first page Browse Sample Pages
Front Cover | Copyright | Table of Contents | Excerpt
IN the days when the spinning-wheels hummed busily in the farmhousesâ and even great ladies, clothed in silk and thread-lace,* had their toy spinning-wheels of polished oakâ there might be seen in districts far away among the lanes, or deep in the bosom of the hills, certain pallid undersized men, who, by the side of the brawny country-folk, looked like the remnants of a disinherited race. Read the first page Browse Sample Pages
Front Cover | Copyright | Table of Contents | Excerpt
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Customer Reviews
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
5 of 5 people found the following review helpful
Format:Paperback
Once again, George Eliot (AKA Mary Anne Evans) brings us a gripping tale of country folk at the turn of the 19th century. The historical detail is fascinating in itself, but this is a truly touching story of one man's redemption through the love of a good woman. Silas Marner finds new meaning in his life when he undertakes the upbringing of a little orphan girl. The denoument is nicely prepared as we the reader are aware of certain information which is unknown to the two main protagonists!
9 of 58 people found the following review helpful
Format:Paperback
A book of such staggering ineptitude that I find it hard to believe that it was considered fit to publish. Long, convoluted sentences serve only to prolong the torment of a book that is a tortuously boring read from beginning to end. Die-hard Eliot fans will relish, no doubt.
Most Helpful Customer Reviews on Amazon.com (beta)
Amazon.com:
2 reviews
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful
The Blessings Of Misfortune
29 Dec 2008
Format:Paperback
"Life is what happens while we're busy making other plans..." John Lennon's lyric are words to live by in this hardy Victorian chestnut about a simple miser who finds love at his doorstep one snowy evening.
Published in 1861, George Eliot's novel has a reputation for dreary earnestness that kept me away from it for quite some time, until I decided to make an effort at reading all the books I successfully avoided in high school. "Silas Marner" turned out one of the easier assignments, not only because of its shortness and simplicity, but for Eliot's engaging manner of writing, which feels less wedded to its time than even more famous writers of her generation like Dickens.
Marner is a weaver and a kind of social exile who sets up his home and business in the English country town of Raveloe. Not happy but content, he spends his time either working or sleeping, his sole recreation being the counting of his gold coins. All this is suddenly taken away from him, but Silas's misfortune turns out to be a blessing, pushing him out of what had been a rut-like comfort zone.
"Our consciousness rarely registers the beginning of a growth within us any more than without us," Eliot notes early on in Silas's transformation. "There have been many circulations of the sap before we detect the smallest sign of the bud."
There's a lot to like about "Marner" the novel. The title character is a real treasure of literature as Eliot describes him, not because he's particularly exciting so much as because he's so readily identifiable, especially with those of us who are old enough to know disappointment in life. Many reviewers here compare him to Scrooge; Marner is a materialist and a bitter social outcast, but unlike Scrooge he retains a certain palpable sympathy and humanity throughout. This in turn makes the character's journey more compelling.
Eliot captures a pastoral vision of English village life that feels absorbing and affecting, even if it is a bit gauzy. Her philosophic asides are marvelously quotable without ever getting in the way of the narrative. Her plot twists are well designed and hardly predictable, at least to me; I was especially impressed by how she dealt with a long-absent antagonist late in the story.
But here's an odd criticism for a Victorian novel: It wasn't long enough. That's actually a problem, as the central game-changing transformative act of "Silas Marner" takes place when the novel's already half-over, and from then on the story speeds toward a spotlessly tidy resolution. The development of Silas's relationship with the others in his village, and with the little girl that changes him, feels rushed.
To want more of a book is thin criticism of what is there. Perhaps a solution might be to read it again, for Eliot's ruminations on how people deal with the specter of misfortune, using various designs to try and ward it off, are both deep and charming. Her metaphysics are a trifle muzzy (I'm not sure if she was a Deist or an agnostic; maybe she was both at various times) but her take on the human condition comes across as well-grounded and relevant. She is a keen social critic, but not a blanket one; her take on organized religion manages to be both dubious and positive.
In short, this woman with a man's nom de plume is very hard to pigeonhole, which also goes for her nifty novel. To adults like me of a certain age, the title may suggest boring homework assignments thankfully dodged, but "Silas Marner" is a real treat worth picking up.
Published in 1861, George Eliot's novel has a reputation for dreary earnestness that kept me away from it for quite some time, until I decided to make an effort at reading all the books I successfully avoided in high school. "Silas Marner" turned out one of the easier assignments, not only because of its shortness and simplicity, but for Eliot's engaging manner of writing, which feels less wedded to its time than even more famous writers of her generation like Dickens.
Marner is a weaver and a kind of social exile who sets up his home and business in the English country town of Raveloe. Not happy but content, he spends his time either working or sleeping, his sole recreation being the counting of his gold coins. All this is suddenly taken away from him, but Silas's misfortune turns out to be a blessing, pushing him out of what had been a rut-like comfort zone.
"Our consciousness rarely registers the beginning of a growth within us any more than without us," Eliot notes early on in Silas's transformation. "There have been many circulations of the sap before we detect the smallest sign of the bud."
There's a lot to like about "Marner" the novel. The title character is a real treasure of literature as Eliot describes him, not because he's particularly exciting so much as because he's so readily identifiable, especially with those of us who are old enough to know disappointment in life. Many reviewers here compare him to Scrooge; Marner is a materialist and a bitter social outcast, but unlike Scrooge he retains a certain palpable sympathy and humanity throughout. This in turn makes the character's journey more compelling.
Eliot captures a pastoral vision of English village life that feels absorbing and affecting, even if it is a bit gauzy. Her philosophic asides are marvelously quotable without ever getting in the way of the narrative. Her plot twists are well designed and hardly predictable, at least to me; I was especially impressed by how she dealt with a long-absent antagonist late in the story.
But here's an odd criticism for a Victorian novel: It wasn't long enough. That's actually a problem, as the central game-changing transformative act of "Silas Marner" takes place when the novel's already half-over, and from then on the story speeds toward a spotlessly tidy resolution. The development of Silas's relationship with the others in his village, and with the little girl that changes him, feels rushed.
To want more of a book is thin criticism of what is there. Perhaps a solution might be to read it again, for Eliot's ruminations on how people deal with the specter of misfortune, using various designs to try and ward it off, are both deep and charming. Her metaphysics are a trifle muzzy (I'm not sure if she was a Deist or an agnostic; maybe she was both at various times) but her take on the human condition comes across as well-grounded and relevant. She is a keen social critic, but not a blanket one; her take on organized religion manages to be both dubious and positive.
In short, this woman with a man's nom de plume is very hard to pigeonhole, which also goes for her nifty novel. To adults like me of a certain age, the title may suggest boring homework assignments thankfully dodged, but "Silas Marner" is a real treat worth picking up.
2 of 4 people found the following review helpful
An uplifting story
21 Feb 2009
Format:Paperback
After Silas Marner's hoard of money was stolen, I was afraid this would be another dreary, Bronte-like novel, full of doom, gloom and cruelty. I almost decided not to finish it. However, I looked up a plot summary online and found that it was not so dark. I'm glad I went ahead and finished the book. The author paints for us all kinds of interesting scenes of life in a small English village in the 19th century. We read of virtue and vice, pompousness and humility, love and devotion, and even of good intentions backfiring.
All in all, this is a pleasant read. The good are rewarded and the bad get their just deserts.
All in all, this is a pleasant read. The good are rewarded and the bad get their just deserts.
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