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Middlemarch Kindle Edition
"One of the few English novels written for grown-up people." —Virginia Woolf
"What do I think of ‘Middlemarch’? What do I think of glory — except that in a few instances this 'mortal has already put on immortality.' George Eliot was one. The mysteries of human nature surpass the 'mysteries of redemption,' for the infinite we only suppose, while we see the finite." —Emily Dickinson
"‘Middlemarch’ is probably the greatest English novel." —Julian Barnes
"They've [women] produced the greatest writer in the English language ever, George Eliot, and arguably the third greatest, Jane Austen, and certainly the greatest novel, ‘Middlemarch’..." —Martin Amis
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherPandora's Box Classics
- Publication dateMarch 26, 2024
- File size3453 KB
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Product details
- ASIN : B0776XTNHT
- Publisher : Pandora's Box Classics (March 26, 2024)
- Publication date : March 26, 2024
- Language : English
- File size : 3453 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Sticky notes : On Kindle Scribe
- Print length : 1012 pages
- Best Sellers Rank: #1,134,936 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- #24,648 in Women's Romance Fiction
- #69,468 in Romance (Kindle Store)
- #73,325 in Women's Literature & Fiction
- Customer Reviews:
About the author

Mary Ann Evans (22 November 1819 - 22 December 1880; alternatively "Mary Anne" or "Marian"), known by her pen name George Eliot, was an English novelist, poet, journalist, translator and one of the leading writers of the Victorian era. She is the author of seven novels, including Adam Bede (1859), The Mill on the Floss (1860), Silas Marner (1861), Felix Holt, the Radical (1866), Middlemarch (1871-72), and Daniel Deronda (1876), most of them set in provincial England and known for their realism and psychological insight.
She used a male pen name, she said, to ensure her works would be taken seriously. Female authors were published under their own names during Eliot's life, but she wanted to escape the stereotype of women only writing lighthearted romances. She also wished to have her fiction judged separately from her already extensive and widely known work as an editor and critic. An additional factor in her use of a pen name may have been a desire to shield her private life from public scrutiny and to prevent scandals attending her relationship with the married George Henry Lewes, with whom she lived for over 20 years.
Her 1872 work Middlemarch has been described by Martin Amis and Julian Barnes as the greatest novel in the English language.
Bio from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Photo by Swiss artist Alexandre-Louis-François d'Albert-Durade (1804-86) [Public Domain], via English Wikipedia.
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Action-wise, not an awful lot happens in a very long book, and most of what happens is confined to a small and isolated district of England in the 1830s. But each character (and there are a great many of them) are so well-drawn that each comes to life. Every character is flawed in a fundamental way, but I came to care about each of them. The level of insight into personality and character is continually astounding, and the writing is unfailingly graceful and lacking in cliche. I have a personal dictum that there is more truth in good fiction than in most factual books, and "Middlemarch" is evidence for that.
I haven't said anything about the plot. It's thin and soapy, and takes its sweet time getting where George Eliot takes it. If there's a theme, it lies in each of several characters making a bad personal decision early on that shapes his or her life for most of the book. Their lives weave together as they deal with, and attempt to recover from, those decisions. In proper Victorian fashion, chance plays a big role both in moving the story along and in resolving the tensions Eliot sets up. The people are so real and ultimately endearing that the contrivances of the plot are irrelevant.
In summary, don't read this for the action; read it for the people. After you've read it, take a look at "Middlemarch and Me", by Rebecca Mead, in the February 7, 2011 issue of The New Yorker.
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