Daniel Deronda
by
3.85 · Rating details · 23,640 ratings · 1,021 reviews
A beautiful young woman stands poised over the gambling tables in an expensive hotel. She is aware of, and resents, the gaze of an unusual young man, a stranger, who seems to judge her, and find her wanting. The encounter will change her life.
The strange young man is Daniel Deronda, brought up with his own origins shrouded in mystery, searching for a compelling outlet for his singular talents and remarkable capacity for empathy. Deronda's destiny will change the lives of many. (less)
The strange young man is Daniel Deronda, brought up with his own origins shrouded in mystery, searching for a compelling outlet for his singular talents and remarkable capacity for empathy. Deronda's destiny will change the lives of many. (less)
Paperback, 796 pages
Published 2002 by Modern Library (first published 1876)
Original Title
Daniel Deronda
ISBN
037576013X (ISBN13: 9780375760136)
Edition Language
English
Characters
Setting
England, 1865
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Feb 23, 2018Fionnuala added it · review of another edition
Shelves: treasured-reading-experience, george-eliot
Recently I watched a TV adaptation of Andrea Levy's Small Island, a book I had read when it first came out but which I'd more or less forgotten. The adaptation succeeded very well, and might even have been better than the book. The characters were credible and their motivations were clear. Their words and actions filled the viewer in so well on the background to the story that the occasional narratorial voiceover seemed unnecessary.
Soon afterwards, I watched the first episode of a three-part adaptation of Daniel Deronda, and had the opposite reaction. Nothing made sense to me. I was convinced that a large part of Eliot's intentions for the story were missing, and while the actors were all fine in their way, the words they were given to say were simply not enough. I tried to fill in the missing bits myself but couldn't. It was impossible to imagine the history and motivations that lay behind those characters and their actions, as impossible as trying to imagine the layers of messages underlying the movie title Three Billboards outside Ebbing Missouri until you've viewed that extraordinary film for yourself—which I've just done. If there had been a book on which that film was based, I'm certain that it could never measure up to the movie. Every frame was a billboard in itself, and the message on each was astonishingly spare and incredibly eloquent.
George Eliot is very eloquent, but there is nothing spare about her writing. You cannot pare it down and fit it in movie frames yet it is very visual in spite of that. It belongs on the page—but offers the big screen experience to the mind's eye. But you have to read all the words to see the pictures properly. I was very glad I abandoned the TV adaptation after that first episode and picked up the book instead. Right from the first page I realised that without the support of the text I could never have succeeded in fully understanding the complexities of motivation that lay behind the surface story, or indeed the scope of Eliot's project in the first place. And when I reached the end of the book, I was certain that I didn't need to watch the rest of the TV adaptation—the book had been more vivid for me that any adaptation could be.
I posted an update the day I finished the book, regretting that the reading experience was over, and a curious conversation erupted in the comments section of that update. The conversation made me realise that there are readers who tackle books as if their task were to adapt them for the screen rather than simply read what is on the page. They would like to cut massive sections, delete certain characters, and make other characters act differently so that the story might move towards an ending they think is more fitting. You could say that such an approach is a very 'creative' way of reading but you could also wonder where the writer's intentions for her work fit in that scenario.
The writer's intentions are everything for me. I may probe them and question them but I would never disregard them. A writer's work is a sacred thing, a bit like other people's religious beliefs, not to be tampered with even when we don't revere them ourselves. I mention religion because it is a major theme in this book. George Eliot became more and more interested in Judaism during the course of her life, at first in an effort to overcome her own prejudices towards the increasing Jewish population in mid-nineteenth century Britain, and then later because she had become genuinely interested in the common origin of Judaism and Christianity. This book is essentially about that preoccupation, but because Eliot is very good at creating story lines, she has inserted the Jewish themed story into an intriguing frame story. Readers seem to differ about which story is the more worthwhile part of the book, and many favour the frame story. However, I found that the two strands overlapped and echoed each other so well that I never even thought of separating or comparing them. Characters from both sections mirrored each other even if they seemed completely opposite, and the central redeemer-like figure of Daniel Deronda linked them all together perfectly. The overall shape of the book worked very well for me and I'm left in awe of George Eliot's mind as well as her writing.
The result of this unplanned reading adventure is that Daniel Deronda now marks the beginning of my 2018 George Eliot season. I'm looking forward to reading the rest of her books, and I may possibly reread Middlemarch as a fitting endnote.
So much for the to-read stack I selected at the beginning of January. Abandoned indefinitely!
…………………………………………………
Because I've a keen interest in Henry James, and I know he admired George Eliot's writing, I was interested to spot what might have been the germ of his inspiration for The Portrait of a Lady. Eliot's frame story concerns a fiercely independent-minded young woman who, in spite of the general expectation, is in no hurry to marry anyone. Nevertheless, like HJ's Isabel Archer, Gwendolyn Harleth finds herself enslaved by a cold-hearted husband who is only interested in crushing her independent spirit. It seems to me that Henleigh Grandcourt and HJ's Gilbert Osmond have a lot in common.
Eliot's main story also reminded me of another Henry James plot line. I think Daniel Deronda could have been an inspiration for Hyacinth Robinson in Princess Casamassima. They are both orphans who desperately need to discover more about their parents, and they both become deeply involved in movements they had no previous associations with.
Slim connections, perhaps, but I love finding such links. (less)
Soon afterwards, I watched the first episode of a three-part adaptation of Daniel Deronda, and had the opposite reaction. Nothing made sense to me. I was convinced that a large part of Eliot's intentions for the story were missing, and while the actors were all fine in their way, the words they were given to say were simply not enough. I tried to fill in the missing bits myself but couldn't. It was impossible to imagine the history and motivations that lay behind those characters and their actions, as impossible as trying to imagine the layers of messages underlying the movie title Three Billboards outside Ebbing Missouri until you've viewed that extraordinary film for yourself—which I've just done. If there had been a book on which that film was based, I'm certain that it could never measure up to the movie. Every frame was a billboard in itself, and the message on each was astonishingly spare and incredibly eloquent.
George Eliot is very eloquent, but there is nothing spare about her writing. You cannot pare it down and fit it in movie frames yet it is very visual in spite of that. It belongs on the page—but offers the big screen experience to the mind's eye. But you have to read all the words to see the pictures properly. I was very glad I abandoned the TV adaptation after that first episode and picked up the book instead. Right from the first page I realised that without the support of the text I could never have succeeded in fully understanding the complexities of motivation that lay behind the surface story, or indeed the scope of Eliot's project in the first place. And when I reached the end of the book, I was certain that I didn't need to watch the rest of the TV adaptation—the book had been more vivid for me that any adaptation could be.
I posted an update the day I finished the book, regretting that the reading experience was over, and a curious conversation erupted in the comments section of that update. The conversation made me realise that there are readers who tackle books as if their task were to adapt them for the screen rather than simply read what is on the page. They would like to cut massive sections, delete certain characters, and make other characters act differently so that the story might move towards an ending they think is more fitting. You could say that such an approach is a very 'creative' way of reading but you could also wonder where the writer's intentions for her work fit in that scenario.
The writer's intentions are everything for me. I may probe them and question them but I would never disregard them. A writer's work is a sacred thing, a bit like other people's religious beliefs, not to be tampered with even when we don't revere them ourselves. I mention religion because it is a major theme in this book. George Eliot became more and more interested in Judaism during the course of her life, at first in an effort to overcome her own prejudices towards the increasing Jewish population in mid-nineteenth century Britain, and then later because she had become genuinely interested in the common origin of Judaism and Christianity. This book is essentially about that preoccupation, but because Eliot is very good at creating story lines, she has inserted the Jewish themed story into an intriguing frame story. Readers seem to differ about which story is the more worthwhile part of the book, and many favour the frame story. However, I found that the two strands overlapped and echoed each other so well that I never even thought of separating or comparing them. Characters from both sections mirrored each other even if they seemed completely opposite, and the central redeemer-like figure of Daniel Deronda linked them all together perfectly. The overall shape of the book worked very well for me and I'm left in awe of George Eliot's mind as well as her writing.
The result of this unplanned reading adventure is that Daniel Deronda now marks the beginning of my 2018 George Eliot season. I'm looking forward to reading the rest of her books, and I may possibly reread Middlemarch as a fitting endnote.
So much for the to-read stack I selected at the beginning of January. Abandoned indefinitely!
…………………………………………………
Because I've a keen interest in Henry James, and I know he admired George Eliot's writing, I was interested to spot what might have been the germ of his inspiration for The Portrait of a Lady. Eliot's frame story concerns a fiercely independent-minded young woman who, in spite of the general expectation, is in no hurry to marry anyone. Nevertheless, like HJ's Isabel Archer, Gwendolyn Harleth finds herself enslaved by a cold-hearted husband who is only interested in crushing her independent spirit. It seems to me that Henleigh Grandcourt and HJ's Gilbert Osmond have a lot in common.
Eliot's main story also reminded me of another Henry James plot line. I think Daniel Deronda could have been an inspiration for Hyacinth Robinson in Princess Casamassima. They are both orphans who desperately need to discover more about their parents, and they both become deeply involved in movements they had no previous associations with.
Slim connections, perhaps, but I love finding such links. (less)
Aug 02, 2015Kalliope rated it it was amazing · review of another edition
Shelves: 19-century, britain, 2015, fiction-english, classics
THE DIPTYCH
This novel was renewed my interest on how George Eliot wrote. I am highly tempted to read more about her and approach literary evaluations of her writing, but before I do so I want to read Adam Bede and Silas Marner and may be reread The Mill on the Floss.
When I read Romola I considered GE’s cosmopolitanism and breath of knowledge. These elements are also present in Daniel Deronda but with an added edge. With Middlemarch it was the role of the narrator and the clear presence of the author that attracted me. In DD the voice of the writer is also clear but in less authorial fashion and, one suspects, speaking more often through her characters. What struck me most, and want to select for my review this time, is the structure of the novel.
It is clearly divided in two. Clearly a diptych. Already MM seemed to me to consist of two parallel stories joined somewhat seamlessly in the middle. The study of provincial evolved around two foci, the doctor Lydgate and the illuminated Dorothea. Both idealists. The twists and turnings of the plot, however, managed to link the two stories creating a middle path in Middlemarch were these two different versions of dreamers confronted each other and helped each other in correcting their reflections.
This double structure is again present in Daniel Deronda, GE’s last novel, but with a wider gap between the two panels. With almost separated frames the novel reads like a double portrait, or a diptych with two facing and complementary donors searching for an object of adoration that is however missing – for the Self is never in the other.
The two subjects pursue their mirroring images and transverse their separating frames by engaging in dialogs and verbal encounters. The twists and turns of the plot this time do not fuse their separated worlds. Only their minds bridge the gap.
Generally I do not discuss characters in my reviews, but I can't avoid it this time. In this novel, the two protagonists, the sitters in the double portrait, baffled me. Gwendolen (Gwen), potentially a highly irritating young woman, fascinated me because I thought she was such a modern character. I expected that young powerful women in today’s professional world, and who are not just capable and intelligent, but also beautiful—and I am thinking of top Wall street traders, or international lawyers of the type, of for example, Amal Aladdin--, must have a similar self-assurance and defiance and inner drive and independence and élan as Gwen. But even if these contemporary women have had a better chance to explore and exploit their abilities in their chosen fields of excellence than GE has allowed Gwen, she did not get on my nerves. I was enthralled by her modernity.
Daniel, in spite of having claimed the title of the novel, remained for me an equivocal figure. It is almost as if in my diptych Daniel—with his messianic role turned around, for he is the Christian leading onto the Jewish— is a donor who through a process of transubstantiation has become the object of adoration.
And in that transformation, the novel dims and blurs its cast of characters and becomes more and more an exploration of ideas, spirituality and politics, with a defence of Judaism and a daring proposal of Zionism.
In all this Daniel emerges as an ethereal saviour but poor Gwen succumbs and loses her leading edge.
And that is what made me wonder about how GE wrote her books and planned her work in her mind.
Did she spend half of her day doing intellectual research on the subjects that captivated her and did she then transcribe her reading into her novel in the afternoons? What was her true objective, to expand her erudition, or to mould it into something else?
I will have to put aside my curiosity for a while and continue reading her work, but with her intelligent writing and formidable abilities she certainly makes me ponder about the process of writing, that elusive act - creativity. How is it born and how does it live?
And how did Rothko paint the above diptych?
(less)
I finished this book about a month ago and have been letting my thoughts first simmer and then actually almost get pushed onto the back burner as our summer holidays began. Once I decided to look over my notes, I realized that a review might be quite overwhelming. Furthermore, the book did not necessarily endear itself to me more over time as many typically do when I prepare to write down my impressions. On the other hand, I most certainly acknowledge that this was an important book and quite a feat of writing on the part of George Eliot. I applaud her efforts at setting on paper her ideas regarding feminism, the British aristocracy, and racial identity, in particular that of Judaism. What I had the most trouble with was the often cumbersome reflections of the main characters which detracted from the flow of the narrative. The interactions between the characters were to me the most stimulating portions to absorb as a reader. The characterizations were well done – some characters being more interesting, even if not likable, than others.
"She had a naïve delight in her fortunate self, which any but the harshest saintliness will have some indulgence for in a girl who had every day seen a pleasant reflection of that self in her friends’ flattery as well as in the looking-glass." The spoiled and self-absorbed Gwendolen Harleth finds herself in a position she never expected to be – that of bad luck and sudden poverty. What is a girl to do in this situation? Degrade oneself by taking a position or, perhaps worse yet, accept an offer of marriage? "Her observation of matrimony had inclined her to think it rather a dreary state in which a woman could not do what she liked, had more children than were desirable, was consequently dull, and became irrevocably immersed in humdrum." Saucy little turns of phrase such as this won me over and held my attention. Gwendolen was perhaps the most interesting and multi-layered character of this book.
When Gwendolen Harleth meets the saintlike figure of Daniel Deronda, their lives become connected as she attempts to better herself to become deserving of his friendship and esteem. But while Gwendolen fights her demons, Deronda struggles with his own identity crisis - one which stems from an unknown parentage as well as from a strong spiritual link to an impassioned Jewish nationalist, Mordecai. Deronda "had not the Jewish consciousness, but he had a yearning, grown the stronger for the denial which had been his grievance, after the obligation of avowed filial and social ties." Throughout this novel, Eliot illustrates the feelings of anti-Semitism which were prevalent during the 19th century. Through Deronda, however, these feelings are changed as he develops a relationship with both Mirah, to whom he is also a savior, as well as Mordecai. Deronda learns the true and principled nature of the Jewish people and their desire to achieve a national identity. "… let the unity of Israel which has made the growth and form of its religion be an outward reality. Looking toward a land and a polity, our dispersed people in all the ends of the earth may share the dignity of a national life which has a voice among the peoples of the East and the West…"
Several more players are introduced into the plot, too many for me to delve into detail here. I will say that Mr. Grandcourt and Mr. Lush make my list for the most strikingly malodorous individuals – in a very amusing sort of way. They provided a nice counterbalance to the gushing wholesomeness of Deronda and Mirah. Gwendolen’s mother was a bit silly and spineless, especially in relation to her daughter.
This was my fourth George Eliot novel. While I did like it - once I plowed through the more laborious portions of it- I have to say that it is my least favorite so far. Both Middlemarch and The Mill on the Floss were much more readable and engaging and I would recommend either of these – especially for a first time Eliot reader. I am glad that I read this one, and happy to add it to my list of more difficult tomes I have completed. 3.5 stars rounded down.
(less)
"She had a naïve delight in her fortunate self, which any but the harshest saintliness will have some indulgence for in a girl who had every day seen a pleasant reflection of that self in her friends’ flattery as well as in the looking-glass." The spoiled and self-absorbed Gwendolen Harleth finds herself in a position she never expected to be – that of bad luck and sudden poverty. What is a girl to do in this situation? Degrade oneself by taking a position or, perhaps worse yet, accept an offer of marriage? "Her observation of matrimony had inclined her to think it rather a dreary state in which a woman could not do what she liked, had more children than were desirable, was consequently dull, and became irrevocably immersed in humdrum." Saucy little turns of phrase such as this won me over and held my attention. Gwendolen was perhaps the most interesting and multi-layered character of this book.
When Gwendolen Harleth meets the saintlike figure of Daniel Deronda, their lives become connected as she attempts to better herself to become deserving of his friendship and esteem. But while Gwendolen fights her demons, Deronda struggles with his own identity crisis - one which stems from an unknown parentage as well as from a strong spiritual link to an impassioned Jewish nationalist, Mordecai. Deronda "had not the Jewish consciousness, but he had a yearning, grown the stronger for the denial which had been his grievance, after the obligation of avowed filial and social ties." Throughout this novel, Eliot illustrates the feelings of anti-Semitism which were prevalent during the 19th century. Through Deronda, however, these feelings are changed as he develops a relationship with both Mirah, to whom he is also a savior, as well as Mordecai. Deronda learns the true and principled nature of the Jewish people and their desire to achieve a national identity. "… let the unity of Israel which has made the growth and form of its religion be an outward reality. Looking toward a land and a polity, our dispersed people in all the ends of the earth may share the dignity of a national life which has a voice among the peoples of the East and the West…"
Several more players are introduced into the plot, too many for me to delve into detail here. I will say that Mr. Grandcourt and Mr. Lush make my list for the most strikingly malodorous individuals – in a very amusing sort of way. They provided a nice counterbalance to the gushing wholesomeness of Deronda and Mirah. Gwendolen’s mother was a bit silly and spineless, especially in relation to her daughter.
This was my fourth George Eliot novel. While I did like it - once I plowed through the more laborious portions of it- I have to say that it is my least favorite so far. Both Middlemarch and The Mill on the Floss were much more readable and engaging and I would recommend either of these – especially for a first time Eliot reader. I am glad that I read this one, and happy to add it to my list of more difficult tomes I have completed. 3.5 stars rounded down.
(less)
Dec 20, 2011Furqan rated it it was amazing · review of another edition
(Re-read from June 07 to June 12, 2012)
I had forgotten what a hard work reading Daniel Deronda was. It has to be Eliot’s most challenging and overwhelming novel, yet such a great pleasure to read and re-read! It's enormously ambitious novel, broad in its scope, space, time and history. The setting itself is untypical of Eliot’s previous novels. It’s no longer the idyllic, provincial villages of Adam Bede or Middlemarch, but Daniel Deronda is set at the heart of cosmopolitan aristocracy of contemporary London. The politics are no longer local, but global as Eliot scrutinises the exploits of British Empire. The stakes are much higher; the individual identities are threatened and lost. The conflict is personal, yet also very social. Of all the Eliot’s novels, Daniel Deronda is the most related to our contemporary society as Eliot explores the themes of racial identity, prejudice, importance of tolerance, religion, the question of gender boundaries, imperialism and Zionism.
Gwendolen Harleth has to be Eliot's most remarkable and fascinating creation. In fact, I am in love with Gwendolen. The main reason I re-read this novel because I missed her. I missed being in her mind, to follow her cognitions, her mental anguish, her witty repartees, sheer snobbery, ambition and heedless narcissism. She is of course not the first vain or shallow female character ever created by Eliot. The ‘vain girl’ features in most of Eliot’s novels, often as a contrast to the heroine. She is there as Hetty in Adam Bede, Esther in Felix Holt, Rosamond in Middlemarch. But in Daniel Deronda, Gwendolen is put at the centre of the stage and her narcissism is taken to extremes, that there is a scene where she is moved to kiss her own reflection in the mirror. Like countless other women, she suffers from the restrictions Victorian society imposed on any respectable woman. She is a dreamer and sees marriage not as a loving union, but as a way to achieve status and power. She marries Grandcourt because she thinks she will be able to manage him and make him her “slave”. Yet contrary to her expectations, the marriage turns out to be an abusive one. Gwendolen fails to realise that Grandcourt also has an iron will of his own. The irony is that her decision to marry the incredibly wealthy Grandcourt was to some extent influenced by her selfless concern towards her bankrupt family. So, her partly selfless act becomes the bane of her life. Grandcourt is bent on to be “a master of a woman who would have liked to master him”. A painful psychological struggle for power ensues between them and Gwendolen is quickly crushed by him. His secret becomes her guilt, a yoke around her neck which continually gnaws at her conscience. He breaks her spirit and she becomes withered from inside, “a diseased soul”, but is forced to play a charade of a happy wife.
I liked Deronda even if I found him to be rigid and morally superior. He is Eliot’s most feminine hero. His ostensibly ‘feminine’ quality of abundant empathy and psychological perceptiveness is contrasted with Gwendolen’s ‘masculine’ desire for power. He is the only person who sees Gwendolen for what she is behind her mask of superficial pride and cheerfulness. Naturally, Gwendolen is drawn to Deronda to help her make her life more bearable. He becomes her redeemer, in the same way as he redeems her necklace which she pawns after gambling. Her letter to him contains the most moving and tear-inducing lines of the whole novel.
But, Deronda is the man with his own set of troubles. Unsure of his true identity, he struggles to find a stable niche in society. He is the medium which Eliot uses to explore the plight of London's scorned Jewish community and the emergence of Zionism, for which this novel is perhaps most famous for.
Daniel Deronda is highly symbolic novel. All those literary references to mythology, science, philosophy, religion and mysticism, which slightly irritated me at first reading, fit perfectly in the thematic framework of the novel. The characters themselves are symbols. Grandcourt symbolises the corruption and vulgarity of English aristocracy, given to reckless materialism and hedonism. His need to crush Gwendolen could be interpreted as the Empire’s colonial ambitions to conquer and enslave the population of the Third World. Deronda’s alienation is symbolically shared by the Jewish people to a broader extent, who are scattered around the world with no actual homeland and scorned by the native population of their home countries.
Overall, Daniel Deronda is a terribly exhausting but an equally rewarding read. If you are new to Eliot, I wouldn't recommend reading this first as it might put you off Eliot forever, but her earlier works such as The Mill on the Floss.
(less)
I had forgotten what a hard work reading Daniel Deronda was. It has to be Eliot’s most challenging and overwhelming novel, yet such a great pleasure to read and re-read! It's enormously ambitious novel, broad in its scope, space, time and history. The setting itself is untypical of Eliot’s previous novels. It’s no longer the idyllic, provincial villages of Adam Bede or Middlemarch, but Daniel Deronda is set at the heart of cosmopolitan aristocracy of contemporary London. The politics are no longer local, but global as Eliot scrutinises the exploits of British Empire. The stakes are much higher; the individual identities are threatened and lost. The conflict is personal, yet also very social. Of all the Eliot’s novels, Daniel Deronda is the most related to our contemporary society as Eliot explores the themes of racial identity, prejudice, importance of tolerance, religion, the question of gender boundaries, imperialism and Zionism.
Gwendolen Harleth has to be Eliot's most remarkable and fascinating creation. In fact, I am in love with Gwendolen. The main reason I re-read this novel because I missed her. I missed being in her mind, to follow her cognitions, her mental anguish, her witty repartees, sheer snobbery, ambition and heedless narcissism. She is of course not the first vain or shallow female character ever created by Eliot. The ‘vain girl’ features in most of Eliot’s novels, often as a contrast to the heroine. She is there as Hetty in Adam Bede, Esther in Felix Holt, Rosamond in Middlemarch. But in Daniel Deronda, Gwendolen is put at the centre of the stage and her narcissism is taken to extremes, that there is a scene where she is moved to kiss her own reflection in the mirror. Like countless other women, she suffers from the restrictions Victorian society imposed on any respectable woman. She is a dreamer and sees marriage not as a loving union, but as a way to achieve status and power. She marries Grandcourt because she thinks she will be able to manage him and make him her “slave”. Yet contrary to her expectations, the marriage turns out to be an abusive one. Gwendolen fails to realise that Grandcourt also has an iron will of his own. The irony is that her decision to marry the incredibly wealthy Grandcourt was to some extent influenced by her selfless concern towards her bankrupt family. So, her partly selfless act becomes the bane of her life. Grandcourt is bent on to be “a master of a woman who would have liked to master him”. A painful psychological struggle for power ensues between them and Gwendolen is quickly crushed by him. His secret becomes her guilt, a yoke around her neck which continually gnaws at her conscience. He breaks her spirit and she becomes withered from inside, “a diseased soul”, but is forced to play a charade of a happy wife.
I liked Deronda even if I found him to be rigid and morally superior. He is Eliot’s most feminine hero. His ostensibly ‘feminine’ quality of abundant empathy and psychological perceptiveness is contrasted with Gwendolen’s ‘masculine’ desire for power. He is the only person who sees Gwendolen for what she is behind her mask of superficial pride and cheerfulness. Naturally, Gwendolen is drawn to Deronda to help her make her life more bearable. He becomes her redeemer, in the same way as he redeems her necklace which she pawns after gambling. Her letter to him contains the most moving and tear-inducing lines of the whole novel.
But, Deronda is the man with his own set of troubles. Unsure of his true identity, he struggles to find a stable niche in society. He is the medium which Eliot uses to explore the plight of London's scorned Jewish community and the emergence of Zionism, for which this novel is perhaps most famous for.
Daniel Deronda is highly symbolic novel. All those literary references to mythology, science, philosophy, religion and mysticism, which slightly irritated me at first reading, fit perfectly in the thematic framework of the novel. The characters themselves are symbols. Grandcourt symbolises the corruption and vulgarity of English aristocracy, given to reckless materialism and hedonism. His need to crush Gwendolen could be interpreted as the Empire’s colonial ambitions to conquer and enslave the population of the Third World. Deronda’s alienation is symbolically shared by the Jewish people to a broader extent, who are scattered around the world with no actual homeland and scorned by the native population of their home countries.
Overall, Daniel Deronda is a terribly exhausting but an equally rewarding read. If you are new to Eliot, I wouldn't recommend reading this first as it might put you off Eliot forever, but her earlier works such as The Mill on the Floss.
(less)
Dec 09, 2011Sue rated it really liked it · review of another edition
Shelves: classics, britain, 19th-century, kindle, historical-fiction, read-2015
While ostensibly the story of one Daniel Deronda, a young man of (we learn) unknown parentage, raised to be an educated Englishman of worth and standing, this novel is also the tale of Gwendolen Harleth, and how their lives intersect. We are introduced to both early on and see them off and on over time as they face changes within their families, their sense of self, their future.
This is my third Eliot novel. While I found some truly wonderful prose here, as I have found in the others I have read, I was left with the impression that Eliot attempted more than she could comfortably accomplish. Her character descriptions are typically excellent, some quite amusing. She is able to skewer her people both lovingly --- and not.
As an example of the first (perhaps) there is this description of Gwendolen.
And happening to be seated sideways before the long
strip of mirror between her two windows she turned to
look at herself, leaning her elbow on the back of the
chair in an attitude that might have been chosen for
her portrait. It is possible to have a strong self-love
without self-satisfaction, rather with a self-discontent
which is the more intense because one's own little core
of egoistic sensibility is a supreme care; but
Gwendolen knew nothing of such inward strife. She had
a naive delight in her fortunate self... (loc 972)
As for another character, Grandcourt:
when he raised his hat he showed an extensive
baldness surrounded with a mere fringe of reddish-
blond hair...; the line of feature from brow to chin
undisguised by beard was decidedly handsome, with
only moderate departures from the perpendicular, and
the slight whisker too was perpendicular. It was not
possible for a human aspect to be freer from grimace
or solicitous wrigglings; also it was perhaps not
possible for a breathing man wide awake to look less
animated....his long narrow grey eyes expressed nothing
but indifference. (loc 2507)
But after these characterizations comes the plot and here comes also what, for me, was the problem. Here it felt as if Eliot's concern for the politics and history of her story overwhelmed the narrative. That never really gelled with the basic story of the characters. The polemics overshadowed several chapters and a few of the characters, seeming to reduce them to ciphers. But Eliot is still a powerful writer and, often, a clever and beautiful writer. I didn't find her writing about the "cause" too strident. Some of it I found very appealing. But as a whole I don't think it succeeded in bringing the story of Daniel Deronda fully to life. (less)
This is my third Eliot novel. While I found some truly wonderful prose here, as I have found in the others I have read, I was left with the impression that Eliot attempted more than she could comfortably accomplish. Her character descriptions are typically excellent, some quite amusing. She is able to skewer her people both lovingly --- and not.
As an example of the first (perhaps) there is this description of Gwendolen.
And happening to be seated sideways before the long
strip of mirror between her two windows she turned to
look at herself, leaning her elbow on the back of the
chair in an attitude that might have been chosen for
her portrait. It is possible to have a strong self-love
without self-satisfaction, rather with a self-discontent
which is the more intense because one's own little core
of egoistic sensibility is a supreme care; but
Gwendolen knew nothing of such inward strife. She had
a naive delight in her fortunate self... (loc 972)
As for another character, Grandcourt:
when he raised his hat he showed an extensive
baldness surrounded with a mere fringe of reddish-
blond hair...; the line of feature from brow to chin
undisguised by beard was decidedly handsome, with
only moderate departures from the perpendicular, and
the slight whisker too was perpendicular. It was not
possible for a human aspect to be freer from grimace
or solicitous wrigglings; also it was perhaps not
possible for a breathing man wide awake to look less
animated....his long narrow grey eyes expressed nothing
but indifference. (loc 2507)
But after these characterizations comes the plot and here comes also what, for me, was the problem. Here it felt as if Eliot's concern for the politics and history of her story overwhelmed the narrative. That never really gelled with the basic story of the characters. The polemics overshadowed several chapters and a few of the characters, seeming to reduce them to ciphers. But Eliot is still a powerful writer and, often, a clever and beautiful writer. I didn't find her writing about the "cause" too strident. Some of it I found very appealing. But as a whole I don't think it succeeded in bringing the story of Daniel Deronda fully to life. (less)
Dec 30, 2017Helene Jeppesen rated it really liked it · review of another edition
This was one of those long stories that in the end were worth a read. I have previously read “Middlemarch” by George Eliot, but in many ways I find “Daniel Deronda” to be a different story that is interesting in many ways.
Our main character, Gwendolen, is quite a character. She’s selfish, attention-seeking and frivolous, and in many ways she actually reminded me of Scarlett O’Hara in “Gone with the Wind”. I liked reading about her a lot - especially because she does change throughout the narrative - but some people might find her too repulsive to take an interest in.
The other main character is Daniel Deronda who is, in many ways, the opposite of Gwendolen. It’s very interesting to see the way his life is parallelled to Gwendolen’s; especially because his life is in many ways different from hers. He’s considerate, caring, and he develops a fondness for Jews and wants to explore their religion and way of living in spite of them being anhorred by most white Christians in the current English society.
This is an epic tale that takes devotion to get through, but while it took me some effort to read it because of its many reflections on life (oftentimes directed directly to the reader which I wasn’t that fond of), all in all I find this work to be accomplished, entertaining and very interesting! It’s definitely worth a read, and I’m happy that I got to be acquainted with Gwendolen, Daniel and the magnificent set of characters. (less)
Our main character, Gwendolen, is quite a character. She’s selfish, attention-seeking and frivolous, and in many ways she actually reminded me of Scarlett O’Hara in “Gone with the Wind”. I liked reading about her a lot - especially because she does change throughout the narrative - but some people might find her too repulsive to take an interest in.
The other main character is Daniel Deronda who is, in many ways, the opposite of Gwendolen. It’s very interesting to see the way his life is parallelled to Gwendolen’s; especially because his life is in many ways different from hers. He’s considerate, caring, and he develops a fondness for Jews and wants to explore their religion and way of living in spite of them being anhorred by most white Christians in the current English society.
This is an epic tale that takes devotion to get through, but while it took me some effort to read it because of its many reflections on life (oftentimes directed directly to the reader which I wasn’t that fond of), all in all I find this work to be accomplished, entertaining and very interesting! It’s definitely worth a read, and I’m happy that I got to be acquainted with Gwendolen, Daniel and the magnificent set of characters. (less)
May 29, 2008Kressel Housman rated it it was amazing · review of another edition
Shelves: all-time-favorite, jewish, classics, fiction, victorian, made-into-movie, george-eliot
Now here’s a book that combines two of my very favorite things: classic British romance with – YES! – Jewish themes. Marian Evans a/k/a George Eliot even went to Frankfurt am Main to do research for the book – in the times of no less than Rav Samson Rafael Hirsch! I think I’ve found a thesis topic if I ever get to graduate school. Till then, though, I’ll have to content myself with this review. No major spoilers, but it is a pretty detailed plot summary, so if you want to be 100% safe, skip to the last two paragraphs.
In the opening scene, we meet Gwendolen Harleth (as in, sounds like “harlot”) who is on a winning streak at a roulette table. Observing her is the title character, Daniel Deronda. She feels he is judging her negatively, which disconcerts her, so she begins to lose. Within the next few scenes, he takes a mysterious action which really unnerves her. And that is the last we see of him until Chapter 16.
The story then backtracks to Gwendolen’s family life, and this is the part that is most reminiscent of a Jane Austen novel (though Eliot’s prose is much denser). Gwendolen’s social position is similar to that of the Dashwood girls; she’s not rich, but she socializes in the upper class circle of a small country-town. As a character, though, she is more of an anti-heroine than heroine. Like Lydia Bennet, she’s out first and foremost for a good time, except she’s cleverer and more calculating. She wants admirers, especially male admirers, but then scorns them without caring about how many hearts she breaks. This section of the book is called “The Spoiled Child,” and George Eliot paints the hateful portrait in painstaking detail.
Enter Mr. Grandcourt. (Read grand + court = landed gentry.) He’s way too suave for Gwendolen to scorn, and her family watches their courtship with eagerness. After all, from a financial standpoint, he’s a Good Catch. But even when Gwendolen gets evidence of his rakishness, she finds she can’t resist him. They marry.
Then the novel shifts back to Daniel Deronda, a young gentleman with no clear direction. He was a serious scholar at Cambridge and proved himself to be exceptionally kind to his friends, but he lives in the shadow of not knowing who his parents are. Rumor has it that he is the illegitimate son of Sir Hugo Mallinger, the nobleman who raised him. Daniel also believes the rumors, but loves Sir Hugo too much to confront him about it. Meanwhile, Sir Hugo’s legal heir is none other than Gwendolen’s husband, Mr. Grandcourt.
In a scene I won’t dare spoil, Daniel encounters Mirah, a Jewess. She is literally a “tinok she nishbu,” a kidnapped child raised away from Judaism. When Daniel finds her, she is nineteen years old, has escaped her captors, and is in desperate search of her family. Daniel, like Harry Potter, has “a thing about saving people,” so he joins in the search, and this leads him into the Jewish communities of London and Frankfurt.
Jews, especially baalei teshuva, will appreciate if not love Chapter 32. It includes the descriptions of the Frankfurt synagogue – taken from Rav Hirsch; I just can’t get over it! – and Mirah’s passionate declaration to her Christian friends, “I will always cling to my people.” Mirah is a bit of a Mary Sue, but she gives voice to the pintele Yid that motivates all us BTs. How in the world did George Eliot know?
The rest of the novel alternates between scenes of Gwendolen in her souring marriage and scenes with the Jewish characters, which notably includes a visionary named Mordecai who is preaching religious Zionism. Daniel, the "knight errant," weaves his way through all of their lives. (Comic relief from Daniel's friend, Hans Meyrick.) Naturally, I am partial to the Jewish sections, but from a literary point of view, the portrayal of Gwendolen is the most masterful part of the novel. No character goes through as dramatic a transformation as she.
I must reiterate that George Eliot does not reach Jane Austen in terms of prose style. At times the text is so heavy and full of extraneous detail that I suspected that like Dickens, she was paid by the word. But while Dickens was making it big with Fagin, Eliot was taking on anti-Semitism, not just by creating positive Jewish characters, but by letting her Christian characters work through their prejudices in the course of the novel. That makes her a heroine in my eyes.
The scholarly introduction to my copy of the novel included some very interesting literary history. The British critics of the time panned the book for its Jewish themes. One suggested that Eliot should have left the Jews out and just called the book Gwendolen. An anonymous sequel by that title appeared a few years later, doing more or less that by killing off the Jewish characters and continuing the story of Gwendolen and Deronda. But the Jewish community’s reaction was a mirror image of the British critics'. The Jews loved the book, though some said that the romantic themes detracted from the main point of the novel, which was Zionism. And in parallel to the anonymous sequel, the German Jewish novelist Marcus Lehman adapted the book to include only the Jewish themes. I think the whole thing is pretty funny.
Personally, I loved both parts of the book – the British and the Jewish. If you’re a fan of either genre, this is a worthwhile read. And if, like me, you’re a fan of both, chances are that you’ll find in this book a lifetime favorite you’ll be happy to immerse yourself in over and over again.
(less)
In the opening scene, we meet Gwendolen Harleth (as in, sounds like “harlot”) who is on a winning streak at a roulette table. Observing her is the title character, Daniel Deronda. She feels he is judging her negatively, which disconcerts her, so she begins to lose. Within the next few scenes, he takes a mysterious action which really unnerves her. And that is the last we see of him until Chapter 16.
The story then backtracks to Gwendolen’s family life, and this is the part that is most reminiscent of a Jane Austen novel (though Eliot’s prose is much denser). Gwendolen’s social position is similar to that of the Dashwood girls; she’s not rich, but she socializes in the upper class circle of a small country-town. As a character, though, she is more of an anti-heroine than heroine. Like Lydia Bennet, she’s out first and foremost for a good time, except she’s cleverer and more calculating. She wants admirers, especially male admirers, but then scorns them without caring about how many hearts she breaks. This section of the book is called “The Spoiled Child,” and George Eliot paints the hateful portrait in painstaking detail.
Enter Mr. Grandcourt. (Read grand + court = landed gentry.) He’s way too suave for Gwendolen to scorn, and her family watches their courtship with eagerness. After all, from a financial standpoint, he’s a Good Catch. But even when Gwendolen gets evidence of his rakishness, she finds she can’t resist him. They marry.
Then the novel shifts back to Daniel Deronda, a young gentleman with no clear direction. He was a serious scholar at Cambridge and proved himself to be exceptionally kind to his friends, but he lives in the shadow of not knowing who his parents are. Rumor has it that he is the illegitimate son of Sir Hugo Mallinger, the nobleman who raised him. Daniel also believes the rumors, but loves Sir Hugo too much to confront him about it. Meanwhile, Sir Hugo’s legal heir is none other than Gwendolen’s husband, Mr. Grandcourt.
In a scene I won’t dare spoil, Daniel encounters Mirah, a Jewess. She is literally a “tinok she nishbu,” a kidnapped child raised away from Judaism. When Daniel finds her, she is nineteen years old, has escaped her captors, and is in desperate search of her family. Daniel, like Harry Potter, has “a thing about saving people,” so he joins in the search, and this leads him into the Jewish communities of London and Frankfurt.
Jews, especially baalei teshuva, will appreciate if not love Chapter 32. It includes the descriptions of the Frankfurt synagogue – taken from Rav Hirsch; I just can’t get over it! – and Mirah’s passionate declaration to her Christian friends, “I will always cling to my people.” Mirah is a bit of a Mary Sue, but she gives voice to the pintele Yid that motivates all us BTs. How in the world did George Eliot know?
The rest of the novel alternates between scenes of Gwendolen in her souring marriage and scenes with the Jewish characters, which notably includes a visionary named Mordecai who is preaching religious Zionism. Daniel, the "knight errant," weaves his way through all of their lives. (Comic relief from Daniel's friend, Hans Meyrick.) Naturally, I am partial to the Jewish sections, but from a literary point of view, the portrayal of Gwendolen is the most masterful part of the novel. No character goes through as dramatic a transformation as she.
I must reiterate that George Eliot does not reach Jane Austen in terms of prose style. At times the text is so heavy and full of extraneous detail that I suspected that like Dickens, she was paid by the word. But while Dickens was making it big with Fagin, Eliot was taking on anti-Semitism, not just by creating positive Jewish characters, but by letting her Christian characters work through their prejudices in the course of the novel. That makes her a heroine in my eyes.
The scholarly introduction to my copy of the novel included some very interesting literary history. The British critics of the time panned the book for its Jewish themes. One suggested that Eliot should have left the Jews out and just called the book Gwendolen. An anonymous sequel by that title appeared a few years later, doing more or less that by killing off the Jewish characters and continuing the story of Gwendolen and Deronda. But the Jewish community’s reaction was a mirror image of the British critics'. The Jews loved the book, though some said that the romantic themes detracted from the main point of the novel, which was Zionism. And in parallel to the anonymous sequel, the German Jewish novelist Marcus Lehman adapted the book to include only the Jewish themes. I think the whole thing is pretty funny.
Personally, I loved both parts of the book – the British and the Jewish. If you’re a fan of either genre, this is a worthwhile read. And if, like me, you’re a fan of both, chances are that you’ll find in this book a lifetime favorite you’ll be happy to immerse yourself in over and over again.
(less)
Dec 09, 2019MihaElla rated it it was amazing · review of another edition
Once upon a time, I was on a long train journey, and one of my compartment's neighbors, watching me reading for a lengthy period in a frozen silence, asked me which word in human's vocabulary was the most valuable. My reply was spontaneously uttered, "Love". The man was surprised. He said he had expected me to answer "soul" or "God". I just laughed and replied, "Love is enough as Love is God." Well, it should be enough. But, maybe not anymore. Anyway, at that time I certainly felt that while raising on the ray of love, one can enter the enlightened kingdom of everything that God has created. In a way, but again depending on the key of interpretation, it is better to say that love is God than to say that truth is God, because the harmony, the beauty, the vitality, the joy and the bliss that are part of love are not part of truth. Truth is to be known, heard, voiced; love is to be felt, experienced, as well as known. The growth and perfection of love lead to the ultimate merger with God, whatever that means for each of us.
We like it or not, the greatest poverty of all is the absence of love. The man who has not developed the capacity to love lives in a private hell of his own. A man who is filled with love is in heaven – earthly or not, it doesn’t matter, it’s enough if it’s also mentally and physically, spiritually experienced. A human can be seen as a wonderful and unique plant, a plant that is capable of producing both nectar and poison. If a man lives by hate he reaps a harvest of poison; if he lives by love he gathers blossoms laden with nectar. I guess each one has a similar experience. Like it or not, one cannot avoid it. If I mould my life and live it with the well-being of everything in mind, that is love. But Love results from the awareness that you are not separate, not different from anything else in existence. I am in you; you are in me. This love is religious and it is the truest one.
I replied that love is God. That is to me the ultimate truth. But, love also exists within the family unit. This is the first step on the journey to love, and the ultimate can never happen if the beginning has been absent. Love is responsible for the existence of the family and when the family unit moves apart and its members spread out into society, love increases and grows. When a man's family has finally grown to incorporate all of mankind, his love becomes one with God.
Without love a human being is just an individual, an ego. He has no family; he has no link with other people. This is gradual death. Life, on the other hand, is interrelation. Love surpasses the duality of the ego. This alone is truth. The man who thirsts for truth must first develop his capacity to love—to the point where the difference between the lover and the beloved disappears and only love remains. When the light of love is freed from the duality of lover and the beloved, when it is freed from the haze of seer and seen, when only the light of pure love shines brightly, that is freedom and liberation. Or, better said, that’s supreme freedom.
I wondered what I could say about love!
Love is so difficult to describe. Love is just there. You could probably see it in my eyes if you came up and looked into them.
I wonder if you can feel it as my arms spread in an embrace.
Love.
What is love?
If love is not felt in my eyes, in my arms, in my silence, then it can never be realized from my words.
Quotes:
***
“My dear boy, you are too young to be taking momentous, decisive steps of that sort. This is a fancy which you have got into your head during an idle week or two: you must set to work at something and dismiss it. There is every reason against it. An engagement at your age would be totally rash and unjustifiable; and moreover, alliances between first cousins are undesirable. Make up your mind to a brief disappointment. Life is full of them. We have all got to be broken in; and this is a mild beginning for you.”
***
“In any case, she would have to submit; and he enjoyed thinking of her as his future wife, whose pride and spirit were suited to command everyone but himself. He had no taste for a woman who was all tenderness to him, full of petitioning solicitude and willing obedience. He meant to be master of a woman who would have liked to master him, and who perhaps would have been capable of mastering another man.”
“he had wanted to marry Gwendolen, and he was not a man to repent. Why should a gentleman whose other relations in life are carried on without the luxury of sympathetic feeling, be supposed to require that kind of condiment in domestic life? What he chiefly felt was that a change had come over the conditions of his mastery, which, far from shaking it, might establish it the more thoroughly. And it was established. He judged that he had not married a simpleton unable to perceive the impossibility of escape, or to see alternative evils: he had married a girl who had spirit and pride enough not to make a fool of herself by forfeiting all the advantages of a position which had attracted her; and if she wanted pregnant hints to help her in making up her mind properly he would take care not to withhold them.”
“When you undertook to be Mrs. Grandcourt, you undertook not to make a fool of yourself. You have been making a fool of yourself this morning; and if you were to go on as you have begun, you might soon get yourself talked of at the clubs in a way you would not like. What do you know about the world? You have married me, and must be guided by my opinion.”
***
“Her griefs were feminine; but to her as a woman they were not the less hard to bear, and she felt an equal right to the Promethean tone. she had a confused state of emotion about Deronda—was it wounded pride and resentment, or a certain awe and exceptional trust?
“though it was her hunger to speak to him which had set her imagination on constructing this chance of finding him, and had made her hurry down, as birds hover near the water which they dare not drink. Always uneasily dubious about his opinion of her, she felt a peculiar anxiety to-day, lest he might think of her with contempt, as one triumphantly conscious of being Grandcourt's wife, the future lady of this domain. It was her habitual effort now to magnify the satisfactions of her pride, on which she nourished her strength; but somehow Deronda's being there disturbed them all. There was not the faintest touch of coquetry in the attitude of her mind toward him: he was unique to her among men, because he had impressed her as being not her admirer but her superior: in some mysterious way he was becoming a part of her conscience, as one woman whose nature is an object of reverential belief may become a new conscience to a man.”
“It did not signify that the other gentlemen took the opportunity of being near her: of what use in the world was their admiration while she had an uneasy sense that there was some standard in Deronda's mind which measured her into littleness?”
“Poor Gwendolen was conscious of an uneasy, transforming process—all the old nature shaken to its depths, its hopes spoiled, its pleasures perturbed, but still showing wholeness and strength in the will to reassert itself. After every new shock of humiliation she tried to adjust herself and seize her old supports—proud concealment, trust in new excitements that would make life go by without much thinking; trust in some deed of reparation to nullify her self-blame and shield her from a vague, ever-visiting dread of some horrible calamity; trust in the hardening effect of use and wont that would make her indifferent to her miseries.
Yes—miseries. This beautiful, healthy young creature, with her two-and-twenty years and her gratified ambition, no longer felt inclined to kiss her fortunate image in the glass. She looked at it with wonder that she could be so miserable”
“Gwendolen's appetite had sickened. Let her wander over the possibilities of her life as she would, an uncertain shadow dogged her. Her confidence in herself and her destiny had turned into remorse and dread; she trusted neither herself nor her future.”
“With all the sense of inferiority that had been forced upon her, it was inevitable that she should imagine a larger place for herself in his thoughts than she actually possessed. They must be rather old and wise persons who are not apt to see their own anxiety or elation about themselves reflected in other minds; and Gwendolen, with her youth and inward solitude, may be excused for dwelling on signs of special interest in her shown by the one person who had impressed her with the feeling of submission, and for mistaking the color and proportion of those signs in the mind of Deronda.”
“But, as always happens with a deep interest, the comparatively rare occasions on which she could exchange any words with Deronda had a diffusive effect in her consciousness, magnifying their communication with each other, and therefore enlarging the place she imagined it to have in his mind. How could Deronda help this? He certainly did not avoid her; rather he wished to convince her by every delicate indirect means that her confidence in him had not been indiscreet since it had not lowered his respect. Moreover, he liked being near her—how could it be otherwise?
She was something more than a problem: she was a lovely woman, for the turn of whose mind and fate he had a care which, however futile it might be, kept soliciting him as a responsibility, perhaps all the more that, when he dared to think of his own future, he saw it lying far away from this splendid sad-hearted creature, who, because he had once been impelled to arrest her attention momentarily, as he might have seized her arm with warning to hinder her from stepping where there was danger, had turned to him with a beseeching persistent need.”
***
“To most men their early home is no more than a memory of their early years, and I'm not sure but they have the best of it. The image is never marred. There's no disappointment in memory, and one's exaggerations are always on the good side.”
***
“No," said the Princess, shaking her head and folding her arms with an air of decision. "You are not a woman. You may try—but you can never imagine what it is to have a man's force of genius in you, and yet to suffer the slavery of being a girl. To have a pattern cut out—'this is the Jewish woman; this is what you must be; this is what you are wanted for; a woman's heart must be of such a size and no larger, else it must be pressed small, like Chinese feet; her happiness is to be made as cakes are, by a fixed receipt.' That was what my father wanted. He wished I had been a son; he cared for me as a make-shift link. His heart was set on his Judaism. He hated that Jewish women should be thought of by the Christian world as a sort of ware to make public singers and actresses of. As if we were not the more enviable for that! That is a chance of escaping from bondage.”
(less)
We like it or not, the greatest poverty of all is the absence of love. The man who has not developed the capacity to love lives in a private hell of his own. A man who is filled with love is in heaven – earthly or not, it doesn’t matter, it’s enough if it’s also mentally and physically, spiritually experienced. A human can be seen as a wonderful and unique plant, a plant that is capable of producing both nectar and poison. If a man lives by hate he reaps a harvest of poison; if he lives by love he gathers blossoms laden with nectar. I guess each one has a similar experience. Like it or not, one cannot avoid it. If I mould my life and live it with the well-being of everything in mind, that is love. But Love results from the awareness that you are not separate, not different from anything else in existence. I am in you; you are in me. This love is religious and it is the truest one.
I replied that love is God. That is to me the ultimate truth. But, love also exists within the family unit. This is the first step on the journey to love, and the ultimate can never happen if the beginning has been absent. Love is responsible for the existence of the family and when the family unit moves apart and its members spread out into society, love increases and grows. When a man's family has finally grown to incorporate all of mankind, his love becomes one with God.
Without love a human being is just an individual, an ego. He has no family; he has no link with other people. This is gradual death. Life, on the other hand, is interrelation. Love surpasses the duality of the ego. This alone is truth. The man who thirsts for truth must first develop his capacity to love—to the point where the difference between the lover and the beloved disappears and only love remains. When the light of love is freed from the duality of lover and the beloved, when it is freed from the haze of seer and seen, when only the light of pure love shines brightly, that is freedom and liberation. Or, better said, that’s supreme freedom.
I wondered what I could say about love!
Love is so difficult to describe. Love is just there. You could probably see it in my eyes if you came up and looked into them.
I wonder if you can feel it as my arms spread in an embrace.
Love.
What is love?
If love is not felt in my eyes, in my arms, in my silence, then it can never be realized from my words.
Quotes:
***
“My dear boy, you are too young to be taking momentous, decisive steps of that sort. This is a fancy which you have got into your head during an idle week or two: you must set to work at something and dismiss it. There is every reason against it. An engagement at your age would be totally rash and unjustifiable; and moreover, alliances between first cousins are undesirable. Make up your mind to a brief disappointment. Life is full of them. We have all got to be broken in; and this is a mild beginning for you.”
***
“In any case, she would have to submit; and he enjoyed thinking of her as his future wife, whose pride and spirit were suited to command everyone but himself. He had no taste for a woman who was all tenderness to him, full of petitioning solicitude and willing obedience. He meant to be master of a woman who would have liked to master him, and who perhaps would have been capable of mastering another man.”
“he had wanted to marry Gwendolen, and he was not a man to repent. Why should a gentleman whose other relations in life are carried on without the luxury of sympathetic feeling, be supposed to require that kind of condiment in domestic life? What he chiefly felt was that a change had come over the conditions of his mastery, which, far from shaking it, might establish it the more thoroughly. And it was established. He judged that he had not married a simpleton unable to perceive the impossibility of escape, or to see alternative evils: he had married a girl who had spirit and pride enough not to make a fool of herself by forfeiting all the advantages of a position which had attracted her; and if she wanted pregnant hints to help her in making up her mind properly he would take care not to withhold them.”
“When you undertook to be Mrs. Grandcourt, you undertook not to make a fool of yourself. You have been making a fool of yourself this morning; and if you were to go on as you have begun, you might soon get yourself talked of at the clubs in a way you would not like. What do you know about the world? You have married me, and must be guided by my opinion.”
***
“Her griefs were feminine; but to her as a woman they were not the less hard to bear, and she felt an equal right to the Promethean tone. she had a confused state of emotion about Deronda—was it wounded pride and resentment, or a certain awe and exceptional trust?
“though it was her hunger to speak to him which had set her imagination on constructing this chance of finding him, and had made her hurry down, as birds hover near the water which they dare not drink. Always uneasily dubious about his opinion of her, she felt a peculiar anxiety to-day, lest he might think of her with contempt, as one triumphantly conscious of being Grandcourt's wife, the future lady of this domain. It was her habitual effort now to magnify the satisfactions of her pride, on which she nourished her strength; but somehow Deronda's being there disturbed them all. There was not the faintest touch of coquetry in the attitude of her mind toward him: he was unique to her among men, because he had impressed her as being not her admirer but her superior: in some mysterious way he was becoming a part of her conscience, as one woman whose nature is an object of reverential belief may become a new conscience to a man.”
“It did not signify that the other gentlemen took the opportunity of being near her: of what use in the world was their admiration while she had an uneasy sense that there was some standard in Deronda's mind which measured her into littleness?”
“Poor Gwendolen was conscious of an uneasy, transforming process—all the old nature shaken to its depths, its hopes spoiled, its pleasures perturbed, but still showing wholeness and strength in the will to reassert itself. After every new shock of humiliation she tried to adjust herself and seize her old supports—proud concealment, trust in new excitements that would make life go by without much thinking; trust in some deed of reparation to nullify her self-blame and shield her from a vague, ever-visiting dread of some horrible calamity; trust in the hardening effect of use and wont that would make her indifferent to her miseries.
Yes—miseries. This beautiful, healthy young creature, with her two-and-twenty years and her gratified ambition, no longer felt inclined to kiss her fortunate image in the glass. She looked at it with wonder that she could be so miserable”
“Gwendolen's appetite had sickened. Let her wander over the possibilities of her life as she would, an uncertain shadow dogged her. Her confidence in herself and her destiny had turned into remorse and dread; she trusted neither herself nor her future.”
“With all the sense of inferiority that had been forced upon her, it was inevitable that she should imagine a larger place for herself in his thoughts than she actually possessed. They must be rather old and wise persons who are not apt to see their own anxiety or elation about themselves reflected in other minds; and Gwendolen, with her youth and inward solitude, may be excused for dwelling on signs of special interest in her shown by the one person who had impressed her with the feeling of submission, and for mistaking the color and proportion of those signs in the mind of Deronda.”
“But, as always happens with a deep interest, the comparatively rare occasions on which she could exchange any words with Deronda had a diffusive effect in her consciousness, magnifying their communication with each other, and therefore enlarging the place she imagined it to have in his mind. How could Deronda help this? He certainly did not avoid her; rather he wished to convince her by every delicate indirect means that her confidence in him had not been indiscreet since it had not lowered his respect. Moreover, he liked being near her—how could it be otherwise?
She was something more than a problem: she was a lovely woman, for the turn of whose mind and fate he had a care which, however futile it might be, kept soliciting him as a responsibility, perhaps all the more that, when he dared to think of his own future, he saw it lying far away from this splendid sad-hearted creature, who, because he had once been impelled to arrest her attention momentarily, as he might have seized her arm with warning to hinder her from stepping where there was danger, had turned to him with a beseeching persistent need.”
***
“To most men their early home is no more than a memory of their early years, and I'm not sure but they have the best of it. The image is never marred. There's no disappointment in memory, and one's exaggerations are always on the good side.”
***
“No," said the Princess, shaking her head and folding her arms with an air of decision. "You are not a woman. You may try—but you can never imagine what it is to have a man's force of genius in you, and yet to suffer the slavery of being a girl. To have a pattern cut out—'this is the Jewish woman; this is what you must be; this is what you are wanted for; a woman's heart must be of such a size and no larger, else it must be pressed small, like Chinese feet; her happiness is to be made as cakes are, by a fixed receipt.' That was what my father wanted. He wished I had been a son; he cared for me as a make-shift link. His heart was set on his Judaism. He hated that Jewish women should be thought of by the Christian world as a sort of ware to make public singers and actresses of. As if we were not the more enviable for that! That is a chance of escaping from bondage.”
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May 22, 2016Roman Clodia rated it it was amazing · review of another edition
Oh dear, I was supposed to be rereading this over a couple of months with a book group... but it's so darn gripping even on a second read that I've ended up rushing ahead and finishing it due to the proverbial 'couldn't put it down'...
My original review is below but on this reread I was struck by the extent to which Eliot seems to be setting up sections that duplicate well-known literary scenarios: the section where Grandcourt leases the 'great house' and sets off marital expectations and plans in local families is so Pride & Prejudice, and there's a Sense & Sensibility feel a little later (view spoiler). But Eliot sets up these comparisons only to knock them down: a far harsher social reality is given rein in this book, and we have a portrait of one of the scariest marriages, surely, in literature.
Motifs of women singing and acting tie the two main stories together in interesting ways, inviting us to compare and contrast Gwen and Mirah ((view spoiler)), and the ending is left somewhat open, albeit in a satisfying way.
I can get anxious rereading a beloved book in case it doesn't stand up so well a second time - no problem here, this is still both a wonderful read and a radical departure for the Victorian novel.
-------------------------------------------------------
Although academically Middlemarch is always regarded as Eliot's masterpiece, I've always thought this novel deserves the title. The characters are nuanced and it's important that Gwendolen starts off as being a conventional spoilt beauty because that makes her growth and change all the more compelling and significant.
As a woman writing in 19th century England, Eliot bravely highlights the impacts of poverty and the implications for women who are forced to prostitute themselves effectively in the marriage market, since a career is out of the question. This is the dark underside of Jane Austen and an important antidote to that sunny view of male/female relationships and the economic reality behind them.
The other brave element in this book is the theme of Jewishness which was glossed over in most of the literature of this period. It is the clash and interraction of the two related prejudices of gender and race/religion that give this book its resonance and importance and its relevance to today. (less)
My original review is below but on this reread I was struck by the extent to which Eliot seems to be setting up sections that duplicate well-known literary scenarios: the section where Grandcourt leases the 'great house' and sets off marital expectations and plans in local families is so Pride & Prejudice, and there's a Sense & Sensibility feel a little later (view spoiler). But Eliot sets up these comparisons only to knock them down: a far harsher social reality is given rein in this book, and we have a portrait of one of the scariest marriages, surely, in literature.
Motifs of women singing and acting tie the two main stories together in interesting ways, inviting us to compare and contrast Gwen and Mirah ((view spoiler)), and the ending is left somewhat open, albeit in a satisfying way.
I can get anxious rereading a beloved book in case it doesn't stand up so well a second time - no problem here, this is still both a wonderful read and a radical departure for the Victorian novel.
-------------------------------------------------------
Although academically Middlemarch is always regarded as Eliot's masterpiece, I've always thought this novel deserves the title. The characters are nuanced and it's important that Gwendolen starts off as being a conventional spoilt beauty because that makes her growth and change all the more compelling and significant.
As a woman writing in 19th century England, Eliot bravely highlights the impacts of poverty and the implications for women who are forced to prostitute themselves effectively in the marriage market, since a career is out of the question. This is the dark underside of Jane Austen and an important antidote to that sunny view of male/female relationships and the economic reality behind them.
The other brave element in this book is the theme of Jewishness which was glossed over in most of the literature of this period. It is the clash and interraction of the two related prejudices of gender and race/religion that give this book its resonance and importance and its relevance to today. (less)
(Thursday) It may take me a while to review this - I am en route to Scotland for a walking weekend and in any case I'm not sure anything I say can do it justice.
(Sunday) Daniel Deronda is Eliot's last novel, and I have wanted to read it ever since reading Sophie and the Sybil by Patricia Duncker a couple of years ago. In that book Duncker reimagined the circumstances that led Eliot to create the book, and Sophie has much in common with the wilful and impulsive Gwendolen Harleth, one of Eliot's two major characters.
The book is big, complex and surprisingly modern at times, telling the parallel but ultimately separate stories of Gwendolen and Daniel. Daniel has been brought up as the ward of an English gentleman, and the story is largely about his rediscovery of his Jewish roots.
I don't want to say too much more at this stage because the book is the subject of a group discussion at Reading the Chunksters for the next couple of months, and I don't want to preempt that discussion. (less)
(Sunday) Daniel Deronda is Eliot's last novel, and I have wanted to read it ever since reading Sophie and the Sybil by Patricia Duncker a couple of years ago. In that book Duncker reimagined the circumstances that led Eliot to create the book, and Sophie has much in common with the wilful and impulsive Gwendolen Harleth, one of Eliot's two major characters.
The book is big, complex and surprisingly modern at times, telling the parallel but ultimately separate stories of Gwendolen and Daniel. Daniel has been brought up as the ward of an English gentleman, and the story is largely about his rediscovery of his Jewish roots.
I don't want to say too much more at this stage because the book is the subject of a group discussion at Reading the Chunksters for the next couple of months, and I don't want to preempt that discussion. (less)
Aug 04, 2015Teresa rated it really liked it · review of another edition
This ambitious novel melds the stories of two very different characters, so perhaps it's appropriate that the novel itself seems a hybrid of a little bit of a lot of what we expect from 19th-century British novelists: the sensational melodrama of Wilkie Collins; the perfection of 'good' characters a la Dickens, along with his humor and irony (though Eliot's is more subtle); the satire of marriage customs and the problem of moneymaking for females who are trained to be helpless, reminiscent of the arguably-18th-century Austen; and the morality, compassion and authorial asides of Eliot herself. As only one example of the latter, Eliot literally excuses the faults of most of the characters (excepting the one true villain of the work) in sentences as superfluous as Gwendolen's younger half-sisters.
I was intrigued by Chapter 11 whereby we 'hear' the thoughts between the spoken words of Gwen and Grandcourt upon their first meeting. Since it's early on, I hoped for more such innovation in its prose. But it is ideas, more than any other element, that are much more in the forefront, especially in the case of its eponymous character, who is obviously a Jesus-figure. He's not the only one who is almost too perfect and it's a bit of a relief for the 21st-century reader when one of these characters suffers understandable jealousy, seemingly her only 'fault'.
Literary (as well as artistic and political) allusions abound and I enjoyed those that I caught -- classical mythology and The Divine Comedy stand out for me. Reading this novel is to know Eliot's brilliance and her genius. (less)
I was intrigued by Chapter 11 whereby we 'hear' the thoughts between the spoken words of Gwen and Grandcourt upon their first meeting. Since it's early on, I hoped for more such innovation in its prose. But it is ideas, more than any other element, that are much more in the forefront, especially in the case of its eponymous character, who is obviously a Jesus-figure. He's not the only one who is almost too perfect and it's a bit of a relief for the 21st-century reader when one of these characters suffers understandable jealousy, seemingly her only 'fault'.
Literary (as well as artistic and political) allusions abound and I enjoyed those that I caught -- classical mythology and The Divine Comedy stand out for me. Reading this novel is to know Eliot's brilliance and her genius. (less)
Feb 13, 2017BAM Endlessly Booked rated it it was ok
I've learned two things:
1. Briefly, I am Gwendolyn
2. I can never listen to a George Eliot novel again. I love her writing. She's so eloquent, but she's so verbose that I just zone out.
I'm DNF at chapter 56. I've decided I do not care what happens to any of these characters. I probably should have read the book.
2017 Reading Challenge: a book mentioned in another book
2/22/19
Ebook reread
Nope it wasn't the audio version. This really is the worst Eliot novel I've read. So many pages for so little plot. So let down (less)
1. Briefly, I am Gwendolyn
2. I can never listen to a George Eliot novel again. I love her writing. She's so eloquent, but she's so verbose that I just zone out.
I'm DNF at chapter 56. I've decided I do not care what happens to any of these characters. I probably should have read the book.
2017 Reading Challenge: a book mentioned in another book
2/22/19
Ebook reread
Nope it wasn't the audio version. This really is the worst Eliot novel I've read. So many pages for so little plot. So let down (less)
3.5 stars-rounded up to 4
George Eliot’s tome, Daniel Deronda, was her last novel and it is anything but an easy read. Quite frequently when the narrative began to move and become quite interesting, Eliot would veer off into another direction and leave me champing at the bit to get back to the story.
Having recently read Middlemarch, I couldn’t help feeling that these characters were all pale and colorless next to those I had just left behind. The character, Daniel Deronda, was a particular puzzle to me, with reactions that did not seem to be realistic and too much of an effort to make her a type instead of an individual. Perhaps I was just too worn out with his “goodness” to really like him. Gwendolen was understandable and flawed enough to make up for it. She was both interesting and represented the most growth and change through the course of the novel.
I started this novel with a pretty serious dislike of Gwendolen, the spoiled girl, but by the end of the novel my attitude toward her had softened. I saw her as a bit of a Hardy character, caught in the awareness of her faults, without any avenue for correcting them or atoning for her sins. Without giving anything of the plot away, I cannot help admiring her resistance of giving in to the basest reaction to her situation. At the last, I think she was much harder on herself than I would have been inclined to be.
Obviously, much of the purpose of this novel is to address the place of Jewish customs and society in 19th Century Europe. Eliot appears to have some very strong feelings about the maintenance of the Jewish people as a separate identity vs. the efforts to absorb them into the Christian society, with the loss of their own specific religion, customs and heritage. I could not help reading this novel with an eye toward what came later, the holocaust and the rise of the Jewish State. I was very interested in what I saw as the struggle to understand Jews and admit them to be on equal standing with their peers. I wonder what kind of reception this got at the time it was written.
Although I recognized Eliot’s purpose being to explain and perhaps endear us to the Jewish characters, they were the characters I could least understand. Mordecai’s almost paranormal recognition of Daniel as a like soul, Mirah’s perfection (along with Daniel’s), and the coldness of Daniel’s mother make them seem less accessible. And, she cannot resist bringing in some of the oldest and most cliched stereotypes when dealing with the Cohens...the typical Jewish family.
I did find this passage from Daniel’s mother very interesting:
”Had I not a rightful claim to be something more than a mere daughter and mother? The voice and the genius matched the face. Whatever else was wrong, acknowledge that I had a right to be an artist, though my father’s will was against it. My nature gave me a charter.”
We are confronted with the idea that a career and motherhood cannot exist side-by-side. She is the bold woman who chooses the career. She hasn’t a speck of motherly feeling. She is painted throughout the entire episode as cold and unnatural. Superwoman had not yet been invented.
While I did find this a worthy read, it cannot live up to the precedents set by Middlemarch and Mill on the Floss to my mind. I had scheduled it to read in 2015 and had to push it over to 2016, so it feels like a personal accomplishment to have it behind me. I will be thinking about it for some time, I am sure and it may be one of those novels that grows in importance as it settles on my mind.
(less)
George Eliot’s tome, Daniel Deronda, was her last novel and it is anything but an easy read. Quite frequently when the narrative began to move and become quite interesting, Eliot would veer off into another direction and leave me champing at the bit to get back to the story.
Having recently read Middlemarch, I couldn’t help feeling that these characters were all pale and colorless next to those I had just left behind. The character, Daniel Deronda, was a particular puzzle to me, with reactions that did not seem to be realistic and too much of an effort to make her a type instead of an individual. Perhaps I was just too worn out with his “goodness” to really like him. Gwendolen was understandable and flawed enough to make up for it. She was both interesting and represented the most growth and change through the course of the novel.
I started this novel with a pretty serious dislike of Gwendolen, the spoiled girl, but by the end of the novel my attitude toward her had softened. I saw her as a bit of a Hardy character, caught in the awareness of her faults, without any avenue for correcting them or atoning for her sins. Without giving anything of the plot away, I cannot help admiring her resistance of giving in to the basest reaction to her situation. At the last, I think she was much harder on herself than I would have been inclined to be.
Obviously, much of the purpose of this novel is to address the place of Jewish customs and society in 19th Century Europe. Eliot appears to have some very strong feelings about the maintenance of the Jewish people as a separate identity vs. the efforts to absorb them into the Christian society, with the loss of their own specific religion, customs and heritage. I could not help reading this novel with an eye toward what came later, the holocaust and the rise of the Jewish State. I was very interested in what I saw as the struggle to understand Jews and admit them to be on equal standing with their peers. I wonder what kind of reception this got at the time it was written.
Although I recognized Eliot’s purpose being to explain and perhaps endear us to the Jewish characters, they were the characters I could least understand. Mordecai’s almost paranormal recognition of Daniel as a like soul, Mirah’s perfection (along with Daniel’s), and the coldness of Daniel’s mother make them seem less accessible. And, she cannot resist bringing in some of the oldest and most cliched stereotypes when dealing with the Cohens...the typical Jewish family.
I did find this passage from Daniel’s mother very interesting:
”Had I not a rightful claim to be something more than a mere daughter and mother? The voice and the genius matched the face. Whatever else was wrong, acknowledge that I had a right to be an artist, though my father’s will was against it. My nature gave me a charter.”
We are confronted with the idea that a career and motherhood cannot exist side-by-side. She is the bold woman who chooses the career. She hasn’t a speck of motherly feeling. She is painted throughout the entire episode as cold and unnatural. Superwoman had not yet been invented.
While I did find this a worthy read, it cannot live up to the precedents set by Middlemarch and Mill on the Floss to my mind. I had scheduled it to read in 2015 and had to push it over to 2016, so it feels like a personal accomplishment to have it behind me. I will be thinking about it for some time, I am sure and it may be one of those novels that grows in importance as it settles on my mind.
(less)
Jul 13, 2017Gary rated it it was amazing
Daniel Deronda centres around several characters. It relates to an intersection of Jewish and Gentile society in 19th century England. With references to Kaballah, Jewish identity and the return of the Jews to the Land of Israel. Gwendolen Harleth a spoiled but poised and spirited of a family of recently impoverished English gentry enters into a loveless marriage for money, with the cold Mr Grandcourt., but soon sickens of his emotional sadism. The novel centres around Gwendolen as much as it does around Daniel Deronda. It takes us through the lives of both major character's pasts ., before joining the two narratives into the present so to speak.
Daniel Deronda is the adopted son of an English aristocrat, with who Gwendolyn falls in love. Deronda rescues the beautiful Jewish actress and singer Mirah Lapidoth from suicide by drowning, introducing us to another interesting and endearing character. He then becomes intimately involved with the society of English Jewry.
Deronda later discovers his Jewish birth from his dying mother who was the daughter of a prominent Rabbi, who married her cousin. Deronda's story therefore as that of a Jew brought up as a Gentile aristocrat before discovering his identity and committing himself to the national welfare of his people is partly based on that of Moses.
The book puts some focus, mainly through conversation on the yearning of the Jewish people to return to the Holy Land to rebuild the Jewish Commonwealth. Deronda and Mirah later leave
England to help rebuild the Jewish presence in the Land of Israel. This component of the novel has lead some prejudiced bigots, such as the loathsome Edward Said to condemn this 1876 classic as `Zionist propaganda'-an Orwellian charge indeed.
People like Said cannot abide the anything that relates to the right of the Jews to live in and return to their ancient homeland.
At the time of this novel's writing progressives saw the revival of nations and national self-determination as a positive thing. It was only nearly a century later that the nihilistic New Left in a sick and bizarre twist began to label the return of the Jews to their ancient homeland as an act of `colonialism'. (less)
Daniel Deronda is the adopted son of an English aristocrat, with who Gwendolyn falls in love. Deronda rescues the beautiful Jewish actress and singer Mirah Lapidoth from suicide by drowning, introducing us to another interesting and endearing character. He then becomes intimately involved with the society of English Jewry.
Deronda later discovers his Jewish birth from his dying mother who was the daughter of a prominent Rabbi, who married her cousin. Deronda's story therefore as that of a Jew brought up as a Gentile aristocrat before discovering his identity and committing himself to the national welfare of his people is partly based on that of Moses.
The book puts some focus, mainly through conversation on the yearning of the Jewish people to return to the Holy Land to rebuild the Jewish Commonwealth. Deronda and Mirah later leave
England to help rebuild the Jewish presence in the Land of Israel. This component of the novel has lead some prejudiced bigots, such as the loathsome Edward Said to condemn this 1876 classic as `Zionist propaganda'-an Orwellian charge indeed.
People like Said cannot abide the anything that relates to the right of the Jews to live in and return to their ancient homeland.
At the time of this novel's writing progressives saw the revival of nations and national self-determination as a positive thing. It was only nearly a century later that the nihilistic New Left in a sick and bizarre twist began to label the return of the Jews to their ancient homeland as an act of `colonialism'. (less)
Sep 18, 2008Charae rated it it was amazing
This is one of my favorite books. George Eliot probably has to be one of the best authors that I have ever read. Her psychological insight into each character is so amazing and her analysis of human nature is quite profound. Gwendolen Harleth, much as you despise her, is very vividly portrayed and there is an interesting reality in all of her words and actions. She is a revealing character and, though most people do not have her outright selfishness, yet I think most could relate to some of her characteristics to a greater or lesser degree. Daniel Deronda, on the other hand, though he is sometimes considered "too perfect" is actually another very well done character. His compassion and kindness are balanced hand by his indecisive, rather vacillating nature throughout the book. The plot is interesting and has several twists to it. I love this book and was sorry to be finished with it and look forward to reading it again. (less)
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