Alright, gather round friends, because I’ve just finished my wild ride with Middlemarch and now it’s time for a review. Now, before your eyes glaze over and you start thinking, “Oh boy, another old book with people wearing top hats and having polite arguments about wallpaper,” let me assure you—this one’s got more going on than my aunt’s family reunions (and trust me, those get dramatic). In this review, I’ll talk about the ups and downs, the messy marriages, the witty jokes that sneak up on you, and the social climbing that makes reality TV look tame. I’ll be honest about what works and what drags, so you’ll know if this giant book should be your next reading adventure or if you’d rather just let it collect dust and impress your friends on the shelf. Stick with me, and I promise you’ll get the lowdown in plain English (with a typo or two for good measure).
Middlemarch Book Review: A Classic With More Drama Than My Family In Group Texts
In a nutsheel
Middlemarch is a big, juicy classic by George Eliot (who, fun fact, was actually a woman named Mary Ann Evans—she went undercover as a guy to get published. Respect!). The book sits firmly in the world of Victorian literature, but don’t let the old-timey setting fool you. There’s gossip, bad marriages, big dreams, and people trying (and failing) to be good.
This is a story set in the small English town of Middlemarch. Eliot lays out the lives of its folks like she’s hosting the world’s slowest reality TV show. We’ve got doctors, landowners, hopeful ladies, and a whole lot of people with opinions about everyone else. The book packs in themes like love, ambition, social change, and, of course, the awkward dance of trying to fit in.
It’s a thoughtful, sometimes funny look at what it means to want more out of life, and how hard it is to actually change—yourself or your world. If you love stories full of complex characters and juicy themes (but no actual nuts), this one’s for you.
Complex Characters and Their Personal Growth in Middlemarch
Let me tell you, the folks in Middlemarch are a real mixed bag. I felt like I was at a family reunion where nobody gets along but everyone still cares, just a bit. George Eliot knows how to create characters who make you shout at the book and then immediately feel bad for them. And yes, I did shout at the book (my dog is still confused).
Take Dorothea Brooke. She starts off so idealistic, wanting to change the world and be useful. I thought she was headed for a boring and happy life, but no, she marries Casaubon, the most boring man to write notes in a book. Watching her realize she married a walking library card was both funny and painful. But then, Dorothea doesn’t just mope around; she gets stronger. By the end, I found myself rooting for her (and a little bit jealous of her backbone).
Lydgate is another one. He wants to fix medicine, but money and love keep tripping him up. His choices made me want to grab him by the shoulders and say, “Mate, just ask for directions!” But he grows, even if it hurts. The town of Middlemarch is packed with people who mess up but also figure things out as they go.
This personal growth hits close to home. Who hasn’t made dumb choices and then got a tiny bit wiser? And guess what—next, we’ll poke around the wild world of social change and class systems in Middlemarch. Grab your monocle, because things are about to get proper fancy!
Social Change and Class Systems in Middlemarch: A Town Shaken and Stirred
If you think your small town has drama, wait until you hear about Middlemarch. George Eliot tosses everyone into a blender of social change, and then someone forgets to put the lid on. This book is packed with people trying to figure out their place in a system that keeps moving the goalposts. I kept cheering for the underdogs, especially when the old rich folks got a bit nervous that their top hats might be out of style soon.
Eliot doesn’t just slap a new coat of paint on the class system—she takes it apart with a screwdriver, holds up the parts, and asks, “Does anyone want to fix this?” You get doctors trying to prove themselves, landowners clinging to their cash, and a batch of hopefuls chasing respect and opportunity like I chase the last slice of pizza at a party. At one point, I half-expected someone to start a union just to complain about the lack of good tea.
Of course, not everything is perfect. There are so many side stories about the politics of the town that my dog looked at me like I was crazy for laughing out loud. But it’s never dull. You see people grow and trip over the same old problems, all while society shifts right under their feet. Eliot captures the awkwardness, hope, and tension of a world that’s trying to turn itself inside out without ripping a seam.
Now, if you thought the class struggles were juicy, wait until we get to marriage and romantic relationships in good old Middlemarch. Bring popcorn!
Marriage and Romance: Love in the World of Middlemarch
Let me tell you, if you want to see complex love stories, Middlemarch is the place to be. I read this with my friend Linda, who is basically allergic to sappy romances, and even she was hooked on all the drama. George Eliot does not mess around with fairy tale endings. The book serves up messy marriages, wild crushes, and the kind of awkward proposals that make you want to hide behind your sofa.
Take Dorothea and Casaubon, for example. Wow. These two have less chemistry than me and my middle school cafeteria meatloaf. Dorothea thinks he’s deep and wise. Turns out, he’s about as fun as a library fine. Their marriage is a reminder that sometimes, your dreams of romantic happiness are not enough. I actually shouted at the book a couple of times. (Linda told me I was scaring her cat.)
Then you have Lydgate and Rosamond, who are basically the poster children for “marry in haste, repent at leisure.” He wanted a partner in science, she wanted a life of shopping. Guess who ends up broke and frustrated? Not a Disney ending, folks.
But it’s not all doom and gloom. There’s Fred and Mary, who actually talk to each other and seem to like hanging out. Imagine that! It gives you hope that good relationships can exist, even in Middlemarch’s web of social rules and misunderstandings.
Stick around—next, we’ll look at the wacky world of narrative style and the sneaky humor hiding in Eliot’s writing. Don’t worry, I’m still not over that footnote joke!
Middlemarch’s Narrative Style and Humor: Why George Eliot Should Do Stand-Up
So, let’s talk about George Eliot’s writing in Middlemarch. Some folks think classic books are all dry and serious, but I swear, Eliot has more zing than my Uncle Jerry at a wedding after three lemonades. Her narrator isn’t just a boring voice in the background. Oh no, she’s right there, poking fun at her own characters, at the small town mindset, and sometimes even at you, dear reader. It’s like the narrator is winking at you from the page, making you feel part of a very odd book club.
Eliot will drop in sly jokes and clever jabs. In one bit, she describes a character who is so dull that being interesting would almost break their bones. That’s the kind of thing my friends and I still quote at each other when someone starts talking about insurance rates or the history of socks. And don’t get me started on her dry humor about marriage and ambition—that stuff’s sharper than my cheese grater (and just as surprising if you touch it the wrong way).
But I’ll be honest—sometimes all the clever asides and wit can drag the reader away from the main action. At times, I felt like telling Eliot, “Alright, back to the plot, please!” Still, the narrator’s style makes this big book feel more playful and way less of a slog than it could have been.
Would I recommend Middlemarch? Yes, absolutely. If you enjoy smart jokes and a narrator with personality, this book’s for you. Just don’t blame me if you start quoting Eliot at dinner parties.
Conclusion
Alright folks, that wraps up my whirlwind tour of Middlemarch! Eliot serves up a big helping of complex people, wild love stories, and eye-popping social drama. The book is smart, often funny, and sometimes gets a bit tangled in its own thoughts (kind of like me trying to fold a fitted sheet). You’ll cheer, you’ll grumble, you might yell at characters through the page. But hey, if you like deep stories with plenty to chew on, you won’t regret picking this one up. Just don’t expect it to be a quick ride—it’s more like a cross-country road trip with lots of stops. Thanks for sticking with me on this review. See you next time, maybe with something a bit lighter… or at least shorter!
