I don’t know why it always surprises me when a classic turns out to be a good book but last month I discovered two really good ones.
The first was a weighty French tome, Stendhal’s Le Rouge et le Noir. A bit hard going in places, it took me from July last year to January this year to complete. As the first bildungsroman (and having looked up what that means I have of course since seen it written all over the place) it sets out the long-term psychological development of the central character Julien Sorel. For a book also described as being about a crime of passion I waited a long time for some passion and even longer for a crime, but it was worth it in the end. A good choice for anyone interested in social climbing from the Franche Comté to Paris (and back) in the early 19th century (who has six months to spare).
For book group I also read Silas Marner by George Elliot. Despite the fact that classics are usually classics because they’re so good, and often with timeless, universal appeal, Silas Marner is not a book that was even on my long list. It’s only small and I know people who studied it for GCSE at school – two things which lead me to put books on a particular shelf in my mental bookcase. However, one of the things I most love about book group is the fact that it leads me to read books I wouldn’t normally pick up and it is, after all a classic.
Set in the early 1800s, the central issue in Silas Marner is the ever-current topic of society vs. wealth. Or rather obsession with wealth. Treated abominably by ‘friends’ in the small religious community he grew up in, Silas leaves and takes up as a weaver in a small village far enough away for him to be considered a foreigner (so not very far in those days). He remains resident (but you couldn’t say living) there for 16 years, hoarding and adoring his earnings and little else. It is only after the theft of his beloved gold and the arrival of a little golden haired child at his hearth, that Silas begins to re-engage with society and a happy ending can ensue.
This was the source of a key problem for one book group member: that all loose ends are tied up neatly in this shortish tale with its obvious beginning, middle and end. However, speaking on behalf of those who don’t normally need a plot to keep us going, I found that there was enough besides this to keep me interested. After all, why would it have been chosen as an examinable book if there were nothing further to exam in it? SM opens up discussions about religion and how leading a ‘good religious life’ is not the same thing as being a good person; bad company vs. isolationism vs. big society; and of course that old chestnut the value of money vs. personal relationships. It’s not particularly subtle and doesn’t dwell on these much, but in a simple way gives you something to think about.
Given its age I will forgive the fact the story in Silas Marner seems oft-repeated to the point of a cliché. However, this did mean the language was such that I couldn’t read the pages as swiftly as I like (something preventing me from getting through The Scarlet Letter too). It was definitely a lighter read in contrast to Stendhal, whose characters can spend a hundred pages deciding whether they really do fancy each other. And it’s not like I didn’t take my time with Stendhal’s French either. Plus there’s a really satisfying sort-of-twist in Silas Marner towards the end. Another point I thought interesting is that, given George Elliot was a woman (not everyone in book group knew that so I won’t take it for granted), she writes some convincing women, with more about them than a pretty dress. Stendhal’s women have a bit of a kick to them too, but less so once they’ve been seduced, at which point they seem to turn into one-dimensional saps suddenly unable to think for themselves.
I enjoyed and would recommend both books to the right reader (never recommend anything to anyone who obviously wouldn’t enjoy it). Nonetheless it’s another classic book group win.
wisestisshe 