Blog #3 - Middlemarch

Summary: I read the first 15 pages or so, encompassing a great number of letters and other small publications. Throughout each of them, one theme was very consistent, and this was Eliot’s unwavering optimism and genuine care for other humans. Many of her letters express a great joy simply at being contacted, while others contain a great deal of sympathy for the recipients or their mutual acquaintances. I think this surplus of caring is also present in Eliot’s writing, such as in the characters of Lydgate and Dorothea, and it’s ultimately not at all hard to imagine the novelist as the penman here. That is, there is no divorcing of feelings or presentation from one text to the other.

Analysis: Eliot herself says, in “The Natural History of German Life,” that “the greatest benefit we owe to the artist, whether painter, poet, or novelist, is the extension of our sympathies.” She goes on to say how others, such as clergymen or farmers, may observe what life is truly like, but fail to properly convey this in actions or in words. It is the artists, Eliot claims, who are responsible for sparking some emotional reaction with an audience. Therefore, her “job” as a novelist is a fitting one, since she desperately wants to tell the stories of the people. Not just any people; not just the lower-class or middle class, but everyone. Recounting a story told by her aunt, Eliot explains how “Adam Bede” came to be, and the night of prayer, followed by an execution, that inspired it. It was the “great feeling” with which her aunt told the story that affected Eliot so deeply and caused the story to stick in her mind.

Clearly, Eliot is an author interested in both the good and bad of humanity, and especially where the two come together.

Preceding the explanation of “Adam Bede” is an excerpt from Amos Barton, who is apparently a rather unscrupulous reverend. While the details of his flaws aren’t touched upon, Eliot appears to be addressing a critic, inviting her to peruse different literature instead. She says, to summarize, that she isn’t interested in portraying an inaccurate depiction of the man, especially since “so very large a majority of [the critic’s] fellow-countrymen that are of this insignificant stamp.” In other words, she’s writing about the common man - who is generally far from ideal.

Ultimately, in both her novels and in her everyday communication, Eliot has a devotion to portraying humanity as it actually exists. She takes care to not demonize high society and, while she sympathizes with them, refrains from glorifying the lower-class. She’s acutely aware of the faults in both strata, and takes care to portray them accurately. Still, good and bad, Eliot maintains a deep and unrelenting admiration for people in general, and taking great care to express her appreciation for those who are close to her. It’s the sensitivity that, in my opinion, sets her writing aside from her contemporaries, whose words often get bogged down by unnecessary sentiment and superfluous description (a lot like what I’m doing now).

Blog 2

Summary: For this blog, I chose to focus on Graham Handley's "Notes on Echoes and Epigraphs," as well as John Lucas' piece, "Carson's Murder and the Inadequacy of Hope." As could be surmised from the latter title, the death of Harry Carson was a prominent theme throughout both - Handley also chose to focus on it. Handley analyzed the epigraphs - the quotes which preceded each chapter - and their origin as well as their relationship to the chapter as a whole. In particular, he focuses on the one that alludes to a poem called The Ancient Mariner, and that piece's connection to John Barton. Lucas prefers to write about Carson's death, which cannot be written about without mentioning Barton.

Analysis: Handley begins by citing Elizabeth Gaskell when the author called John Barton central to the novel. She says that he was "the character around whom all the others formed themselves," and her "hero." In short, he was the character who could have or should have been viewed as the paragon within the book. We as readers generally appreciate his actions, and at the end, have a large amount of sympathy for the dying man. Handley points this out as well. One strong similarity between The Ancient Mariner and the character of John Barton is how they both "tell their tale" to one whom they have wronged.*
Lucas, in his piece, sees Barton as less admirable. Lucas accuses Gaskell of overt political tendencies aligning with "liberalism," and states that they sully the book's overall quality. After making note of the same Gaskell quote, wherein she aligned herself with John Barton, Lucas goes on to write about how the murder was "set up" to make the reader sympathize with Barton. Additionally, he credits the inclusion of the murder at all to close-mindedness no the part of Gaskell, saying that she can not "simplify a complexity which has become too terrific for her to accept consciously." He is describing the fear of violence among the upper-classes, realized fictitiously by John Barton.
The reason that I find these analyses of John Barton interesting returns to the question we discussed in class. That is, "what's the solution?" We talked of Gaskell identifying problems but not offering any way to make them better. I wonder if we could see J. Barton's actions as her potential solution. I'm hesitant to assume that that was her intent, because it would be too subtle and also uncharacteristic (given what little we know of her and the context of the rest of the book). However, she does state (in a roundabout way) that she approves of Barton's actions and hopes that the reader will sympathize. Ultimately, while I don't think Mary Barton was intended to be a call-to-arms, I think it's interesting that one could reasonably interpret it as such, given the right context.

*This is my interpretation of what occurred in the poem. I haven't read it, only picked up on the similarities that the author pointed out.

Blog One

Summary:
I looked at John Forster’s review in Examiner (1848), an unsigned review from Prospective Review (1849), and the unsigned review from British Quarterly (1849) for my blog. The first of these praises the book warmly, though from the beginning, contextualizes itself based upon the author’s gender. Forster remarks that Gaskell does a good job of calling attention to the lower class, but does “not affect to offer any solution of a problem involving so such misery” (367). Conversely, the Quarterly chastises Gaskell’s (at the time anonymous) attention to the poor, as the reviewer believes her description to be too “one-sided” and not at all fair to the groups she attempts to criticize. Lastly, in the Prospective Review, the reviewer is overall quite taken with Gaskell’s novel and especially the way it’s presented, complimenting the prose and even comparing it to verse. The praise is tempered by the highlighting of a couple inconsistencies, but ultimately, the author says they don’t detract too heavily from the work as a whole.

Analysis:

What I find most interesting is the dichotomy between the reviewers’ acceptance of Gaskell’s portrayal of the lower class. While Forster and the Prospective find it sympathetic and heart-tugging, the Quarterly thought the text was inaccurate and biased. While the author’s sympathies are expected to show, the reviewer cited key details that differed from the events that actually inspired them.

One example is the death of Harry Carson, modeled after that of Thomas Ashton. Details of the events, such as the location and specifics of the weapon, are too similar to be coincidence, yet different enough as to be aggravating to some contemporary audiences.

The aspect of this that I find intriguing is the authorial decision behind it. Obviously, Gaskell knew that her readers would find and point out the similarities between the events. Therefore, I’m curious as to what motivated her to do it anyway. When trying to build sympathy for the aggressors in this situation, it seems to me as if it would be best to not exonerate a situation in which they’re the less sympathetic group. To clarify, when it will be obvious where the inspiration for a scene came from, why change the motivations so strongly? In my opinion, this could devalue the author’s portrayal of other parts.

In class, we discussed how reading was one of the main pastimes of the middle-class. Therefore, it can be assumed that a large percentage of Gaskell’s readership was part of neither demographic from the novel, and should thus have a relatively unbiased opinion of what goes on therein. Still, the Prospective is quick to clarify that the book is not a political novel, and thus it can’t be seen as a call-to-arms. So, what then was its purpose? Obviously more than simple entertainment.

Ultimately, I think the purpose of Mary Barton was to raise awareness, but not necessarily to fix things. After all, like Forster said, there’s not even a solution presented. I just find it perplexing that a book which is, for all intents and purposes, an exposition on the lives of the lower-class should be so selectively honest. It makes sense from a propaganda perspective, but still, the novel feels like more than that. Maybe it’s intended to be a political book after all.