At first I want to describe this as a redemptive story, but that doesn’t seem right. Silas Marner isn’t ever a villain, he’s just presented that way again and again by people who try to take advantage of him or misunderstand him. His miserly reclusive life is just his only way of protecting himself from what seems like a world that is out to get him.

Silas’ redemption isn’t changing from evil to good, but opening up enough to a community to find friends and a family.

I listened to this in audiobook form, as it was a free one from Audible, and I'm very glad of it because the wonderful reading by the late Andrew Sachs helped a great deal in illuminating some of the archaic phrasing and bringing it to life. I read this because I've been wanting to engage with more "classic" literature, but I have to be honest I got worried after I started in and started seeing people mention they were assigned this in school. Although I have always loved books and reading, I can think of precious few "assigned readings" that I truly loved. That being said, I found Silas Marner to be an intriguingly written tale that left me wanting to know more about George Eliot (aka Mary Ann Evans.)

The study of "regular townsfolk" here is so well done, precise, and may seem depressingly familiar and unchanged in some respects. The chapter devoted to townspeople going on and on about not much of anything in the bar was actually very funny in parts, rendering some of the characters equal parts infuriating and endearing.

Silas is shown to be an outlier, and the writing is very clearheaded in asserting that such outliers are regarded with suspicion by the townspeople for no good reason at all. The book strikes me as excitingly (surprisingly) suspicious of both religion and "civilized" people. I'll have to research more about how the novel was received at the time, because 1861 feels very generically "long ago" that I feel like aspects of this might have been seen as shocking to some readers.

Spoiler

Although I think there might be the temptation of thinking the novel "reforms" Silas by integrating him with society with society via a child, that's now how I see it. In fact, I'd be pretty irritated if that was the general theme of the book. Every step of the way, Eliot has shown religion as either abusive or disconnected from a higher power. The townsfolk are suspicious and superstitious. And "higher society" (by way of the Cass brothers) is both rotten to the core, and cowardly.

Silas Marner leaves religion behind because he believed in it too much, and it failed him utterly. Although his love of his hoard of money can be seen as a negative, I feel like Eliot takes pains in showing it to be cold comfort versus something as simple as "money is evil." The money is not valued by Silas for its worth, really. It could have been anything. It's just a hollow pursuit for Marner to obtain. It's less a moral failing of Marner's, in the eyes of the book, and more of a security blanket.

The thing is, Marner remains a moral figure throughout the book. Although the arrival of someone else to care for changes him, I feel like it's less about "ONE MUST HAVE CHILDREN!" and more "loving someone else is part of what gives life meaning." So, while this gives Marner an enriching purpose to his life, the fact is that the townspeople have nothing to do with this. He is essentially the same person, he's just more "acceptable" to the townspeople. But, I think the novel has firmly established that the townspeople are terrible and capricious in their judgement. It's a good outcome for Silas only because people have finally seen that he is, as he has always been, a good person.

The ending is really beautiful, as Silas finally decided to confront his past—to see if he might be redeemed in the eyes of the church and people who did him wrong. But there's nothing there. It's all been completely wiped away out of memory.

I read Silas Marner as a rejection of religious and social constructs (both of which can be incredibly unfair and biased) as temporary things, whereas love—real, unselfish love—as enduring.

Delightful. I read this when I was 14 but I have zero memory of it at all, so it was completely fresh to me this time. I love Eliot's insights into humanity.

Great story with an uplifting ending.

In the small country village of Raveloe, we meet Silas Marner, the weaver. Friendless and wrongly accused of a crime, Silas lives out a lonely existence in a small shack, weaving by day and obsessing over his earnings by night. When the outside world stumbles in and wreaks havoc on his monotonous but, in a sense, comforting lifestyle, Silas is thrown for a loop. Forced to begin to interact with his neighbors, he slowly begins to be a part of a community again when another bit of chaos is thrown his way. This time, it's in the form of a two year old girl whose very nature begins to soften the heart of the weaver.

George Elliot is a masterful writer, I feel like I underlined on every page, her language is so powerful and evocative. For example:

If there is an angel who records the sorrows of men as well as their sins, he knows how many and deep are the sorrows that spring from false ideas for which no man is culpable.

We can send black puddings and pettitoes without giving them a flavor of our own egoism; but language is a stream that is almost sure to smack of a mingled soil.

In this short tale, she examines the threads of what makes us human - our loves, our mistakes and their consequences. The villagers and main characters show us their merits and follies through their choices and through dialogue that is expertly written to shed light on what matters most to them. Even the lesser characters and their choices have a great impact on Silas and his plight - this truly is just his story and Elliot has graced us with an interesting and varied cast that adds depth and meaning to the plot. The more secondary "extra" characters are a bit satirized which spiced up the duller sections of male villager gossip and provided a forum for social commentary.

Is is an absolute joy to watch Silas Marner awaken from his life of drudgery and obsession. I love his character and I loved that this book is also about faith, lost and found - and that happiness comes from being a part of something bigger than yourself.

The connection between Silas and Eppie is really touching, and underlines the modern idea that your father is who is there for you, and not just the man who biologically fathered you.