I don’t think I have not been prejudiced for or against any writer, but Eliot was an exception. I barely knew her, but I had seen a great load of Middlemarch compliments not necessarily associated with the writer’s abilities. And now, almost unfortunately, and with great sadness, I reach the same conclusions as held by the general circle of critics- Middlemarch is one of the finest novels ever to grapple with literature but Eliot, as a thinker and an observer did not quite meet the ends that her pungent language almost illusions us into seeing.
There is nothing to say about the characters; indeed, there is only something to say about how their surrounding seems to influence their decisions rather than their set of beliefs. Of course, by creating Dorothea, Eliot protected herself from any anti-ideology accusations. Intellectually, the best character, even in Dorothea’s own eyes is Mr. Casaubon, and by the features that Eliot vests on him- the only intellect (or bookish intellect) worth noting- it seems that Eliot has something to say against that sort of intellect; perhaps Casaubon was whom she feared to end up like.
No one can escape from learning something about the proper use of long paragraphs (take note Dostoevsky) from Eliot. Another thing about this book, that truly makes me want to swallow it as my dinner, is its psychological scrutiny. I will also include the lack of Eliot’s spiritual side (not religious, but Spiritual) that to some readers who are not willing to bite their tongue over the nasty conversations, may see the novel as too rather Earthly. One may remember Bulstrode but arguing for or against spirituality by creating a character who thinks God has plans for him is highly irrational. All in all, this novel only touches extraordinary ends if one does not start ruminating over Eliot’s judgment but in literature alone, this book is perhaps insuperable.