Silas Marner

And all as we’ve got to do is to trusten, Master Marner—to do the right thing as fur as we know, and to trusten. For if us as knows so little can see a bit o’ good and rights, we may be sure as there’s a good and a rights bigger nor what we can know—I feel it i’ my own inside as it must be so.

Silas Marner by George Eliot (pseudonym of Mary Ann Evans) is a book that shows how novels were maturing in the 19th century. It resulted from the explosion of literacy that came about in Victorian England, producing some of the finest works of literature we have today. Even though it was published in 1861 it still holds up today as an enjoyable and well-written story.

Going into this review, I will not be so much discussing how good the book is, since 21st century fiction standards vastly differ from 19th century standards. I’m mostly going to talk about my experience with the book and if it, archaic language and all, can still be read and enjoyed today.

Plot

Once, Silas Marner was a respected member of his church at Lantern Yard. With strong faith in God and his fellow Christians, he attended every week and with fervor gave himself to the work of God.

But then everything fell apart. His best friend, William Dane, framed him for theft, the drawing of lots expelled him from the church, and his fiancée left him and married Dane. Silas, with his heart crushed and faith shattered, left his native land behind and settled far away in the small village of Raveloe.

The inhabitants of the village are a superstitious sort, keeping their distance from the mysterious Marner. And Silas has no reason to go out and convince them otherwise. He confines himself to an old cottage, weaving at his loom day and night, taking solace in the only familiar thing he has left.

His life becomes, as the book says, insect-like. He weaves. He collects the gold coins from his customers. Then he returns to the loom. His coins amass, overflowing their storage pot, and Silas increasingly sees them as his only reason for living. At least, until they’re stolen.

When a thief stops by Silas’ cottage in the middle of a stormy night, his life is once again devastated. But he may soon discover that this loss was not much of a loss at all—rather, a new beginning.

Silas Marner is, by today’s standards, slow-paced. Rather than opening with a thrilling action scene, it opens with a thoughtful description of Raveloe, exploring the ideals and lives of the inhabitants. This is to be expected in a book of this age, and it doesn’t bother me at all. Only, the reader coming into this book should come with some patience.

My only complaint about the slowness is that there are two parts—once, a whole chapter, once, half a chapter—where the story completely stops while characters have chats about town rumors, fashion, whether someone can sing well, and so on. In most of the book, the story moves forward, albeit slowly. But in these parts, the story grinds to a very boring halt.

That grievance aside, the plot is well-crafted. It doesn’t contain plot twists, not like a modern novel. But I still found myself eager to discover what happened to the protagonists next, and how the secrets and twists established early on would play out.

Characters

Silas Marner is a miser, holing up in his cottage, hoarding his money as his only ambition in life. He’s distrusted by the people of the village since he possesses above-average skill with weaving and herbs, a clear sign to the residents that he’s had dealings with the Devil. His singular try to help someone with his herbs only caused this opinion to strengthen.

He also has occasional attacks of catalepsy. These are lapses in his consciousness when his muscles freeze up and his mind ceases functioning.

Godfrey Cass, son of a wealthy landowner in the village, is another main character, almost as important as Silas. He’s indecisive, tormented by a past wrong. His brother, who knows of this secret, is free to manipulate Godfrey how he pleases.

A defining feature of these Victorian novels was and is their realistic characters. Eliot dives much into the thoughts, motives, and desires of her characters. This is one reason the book progresses slowly, but it also gives great insight into their minds immediately. I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for Silas and his plight, and watching him grow throughout the book was that much more meaningful.

Theme & Content Warnings

Silas Marner is very much a moral tale. Characters learn and teach lessons all around, with Silas having a character arc before the term “character arc” was even a thing. While the people of Raveloe could hardly be called serious, orthodox Christians, they refer to God frequently and have a respect for the Bible.

Silas begins the book not even believing in God, after He supposedly influenced the casting of lots to determine Silas’ guilt. By the end, he’s talking to a woman in town about trusting God no matter what bad comes.

That is the theme of this story, and it comes through strongly. Two conversations near the end of the book actually encouraged me to have faith in God and that, even when we don’t see any good, we can trust that God works out a greater good in our lives.

This is also a story about self-sacrificial love and how it can heal a broken life. It’s hard to say much on this without spoilers, but a certain bond (not romantic, to be clear) comes between him and another character that helps heal and restore his faith.

It’s a shame that one single word removes my full endorsement from this book; in chapter nine, Godfrey’s father uses a mild profanity.

It’s mentioned that one character is an opium addict, and she ingests some in one scene shortly before dying.

Other than that, the book is completely clean. While the theology of the church at Raveloe might be questionable at times and more akin to the Catholic church than Christianity, it’s not explored in much detail.

Overall

Before summarizing my thoughts, I want to bring up one other matter: the prose. Some might be intimidated by trying to sort through the over 160-year-old writing. But, as I said before, with some patience and perhaps a dictionary on hand, it’s really not hard to understand. Readers can at least get the general motions of the plot, even if they miss a few details.

The accented dialogue will probably be the most confusing part. Modern writers are encouraged not to heavily accent their written conversations; Eliot had no such guidelines. The introductory quote of his review is a good example of the odd spellings and contractions that pepper the dialogue. An audiobook, as I used, may make the words easier to decipher, but they’re not too hard to understand.

In conclusion, Silas Marner came as an unexpectedly pleasant surprise to me. I read this book for school, and things done for school tend to be a drudgery, no matter how fun they might be outside of school. But not so with this classic. Not even the pressure of necessity could spoil the realistic characters and strong themes. In fact, the only spoiling done is by the single profanity.

It’s up to your discretion to decide if the language is a deal-breaker. Were it not for that, I’d wholly recommend it to anyone willing to trudge through the boring parts and obscure words.

Multiple physical and digital copies are available on Amazon and elsewhere, so do your own research if you want to purchase a copy. I’ve linked below a copy that’s free on Kindle Unlimited, as well as the listing on Project Gutenberg where you can read it for free.

Thanks for reading, and I’ll write you in the next one!