This is the fifth Eliot novel I've read over the past number of years, and I think it might be my favorite one so far. George Eliot was such a learned, highly intelligent woman and her writing is rich with historical, cultural, and literary references. The characters she writes have a psychological depth to them that makes them feel authentic. In Daniel Deronda, Eliot's theme is the position and prospects of Jews in British and European society in the late 19th century. Two main plot strands run through this book, so Judaism and Jewish philosophy is woven through the story, as well as the realities of oppressive marriages and moral obligation. Definitely enjoyed this one, and I'm pretty sure these characters will stick with me for a long time.

How I love burying myself in a long Eliot novel, rich in characters, ideas and incidents.

This book was a bit more contrived than Eliot's earlier books, but it was still fantastic. It seemed as if Eliot had learned a bit about Jewish culture and, being completely enamored of it, decided to write an almost mystical book that allowed everything swirling in her head to find a place on the page. The book was mostly an origin story that made me think she would have loved to have written Star Wars if she had thought of it. 

Daniel Deronda does not know who his mother or father are and grew up under the care of a generous benefactor. George Eliot's male characters can be so very loving and tender. I really love that aspect of her books. 

Daniel Deronda miraculously comes across a woman drawing in the lake. (George Eliot could have benefitted from an editor who could have challenged her to make their meeting a bit more believable but this was written in the 1800s, so I think we can let it slide). His life becomes entwined with hers and is never the same again. 

I don't want to give any spoilers, but I do want to say how much I love that Eliot plays around with gender roles and tried to have some of her characters behave in ways that are unexpected for their sex, and has those characters refuse to apologize for it.

2.5

What can I say about a classic like Daniel Deronda? This is not a book I'd have considered picking up for a fun read, so I'm very thankful to have experienced it as a collective read with my book group. It's very much worth the effort -- and it feels like a major accomplishment to have reached the end.

[SPOILER ALERT]
After closing the page on this long novel, it lingers on in my mind and I've been trying to digest it well enough so that I may do it justice in my review. It is a complex and elegantly written novel, almost prophetic in its day (1876)---just at the cusp of the Zionist movement.

The first chapter failed to engage me and I nearly aborted the read because of it, but that chapter would later fit like a puzzle piece into the big scheme of things. I am so glad I kept reading, because this is the work of a mature writer, a work of true substance.

Daniel Deronda seems at first to take a backseat to the lovely but narcissistic Gwendolyn (she kisses herself in the mirror!) and for a while I wondered why the book wasn't titled after HER? My research tells me that I wasn't the first person to have this thought; back in the day others wanted to expunge the title character because he was Jewish.

There really are the makings of two novels here, but it would weaken certain aspects of the telling if they were separated. For one thing, Eliot needed Gwendolyn to spotlight the moral failings of proper English society AND she needed Deronda to play the role of conscience. The Jewish scriptures mark them as a "light to the Gentiles," and that is exactly the role that Deronda played, even though for most of the novel he did not know he was a Jew.

It strikes me that Deronda's life---without roots or rank or having a settled role in society---was meant to epitomize the state of the Jews who were scattered amongst the nations and without a homeland. His intelligence, moral compass, and humanitarian leanings created a beautifully developed character. I felt his counterpart, the poor Jewess, was drawn with less complexity and with a romantic/pathetic brush.

Gwendolyn stood in stark contrast to Deronda. She was beautiful, well-married, ranked high in society but was morally bankrupt. Deronda had the ability to fan the tiny spark of a conscience within her into a steadily growing flame. He truly sensitized her to the considerable powers she held within, powers he encouraged her to use for the bettering of others instead of for selfish purposes.

When reading the sections about Gwendolyn, I sometimes felt like I was reading Jane Austen. Her way of bringing the reader into the subtleties of English society---the wit, the raised eyebrow, the blushes--- were painstakingly detailed and elegantly portrayed.

It is said that this novel helped to fan the flames of Zionism. I first jotted down the title for my "to read" list when it was mentioned in Eliezer Ben Yehuda's biography, Tongue of the Prophets and am glad that I followed up on it. Every possible argument for and against a Jewish homeland is espoused within its pages, which gives it historical value. I loved it, however, for many reasons and would highly recommend it if you enjoy Victorian/British literature.

I enjoyed the plot very much and really like Deronda.

Five stars for Daniel Deronda, even though I had a couple of issues with it. What it had in spades was the usual beautiful, dense, observant language that all Eliot novels have. It was also stirring in the way Eliot grapples with ideas and reveals her leanings, regarding women, social diversity, and human psychology, that are unconventional and ahead of her time. My reservations had to do with a certain flatness in the portrayal of some her characters. Although Daniel is the eponymous hero, it was Gwendolen who leaps off the page fully alive. The character of Mirah felt thin, a little damsel-ish, and therefore the pivotal romance with Daniel wasn’t persuasive, especially by contrast with the late passionate scene of farewell and renunciation between Daniel and Gwendolen. I thought as I read that scene that it is unusual to deny a main character such as Gwendolen, who had been tested and had grown, what she (and the reader on her behalf) wanted. A certain amount of melodrama is part of the DNA of 19th century novels and usually is not an impediment to my involvement in the story. In this case, it was some of the time. I wondered if, in telling her Jewish story and writing the Jewish characters, Eliot was writing at a sort of personal or literary frontier and that accounts for what felt less assured in this novel. You can tell, I am loath to find any fault at all with Mary Ann Evans!

Really only cared for Gwendolyn’s narrative. Also, if the only way readers can gain sympathy for Jewish people is through the perfect (in beauty, in morals, etc) Jewish girl, then there is a problem. Eliot’s favorite themes (morality, confession, small actions making our character, sympathy) are highly accentuated in this novel, to the point of becoming overwrought. Petition to reformat this book focusing on Gwendolyn Harleth, with Deronda as a side character.

Daniel Deronda is perhaps my favourite book of all time. When I first read it, I wasn't sure what I thought of it. Elliot weaves the tale, as she designed to do, so that the reader is not quite certain of his loyalties. We root for Daniel, of course, but which of the women in his life do we wish for him to choose? In the end, of course, he chooses the more deserving of the two. And yet, do we not find ourselves rooting for that which society, in that day and age, would have chosen for him? Are we disappointed, or are we not? It all depends on with whom we identify, and sometimes that question cannot be honestly answered until we've stepped away from it far enough to see the big picture. And it is a very big picture.

Eliot, having written the book as a contemporary to the Zionist movement, was perhaps a visionary in her approach to its causes and in her method if introducing them to the reading public. The work was highly influential to many, and to society at large regarding their view of their Jewish neighbours. More than that, though, it challenged society's views of Christianity, of what it means to be a gentleman and where one's loyalties ought, after all, to lie. Daniel's benefactor, the man, indeed, who raised him, was a good man, but he failed Daniel in many respects. To satiate his need for a home and family ties with whom he could truly identify, Daniel had to make these himself, breaking off from the tradition that had been set before him. "So you do not want to be an English gentleman to the backbone," Sir Hugo says to him. Yes, of course Daniel does, but must he do it and be a Christian without Christian feeling? Be a father without fatherly affection? Be a husband who is a stranger to his wife?

Daniel Deronda is and was a Trojan horse of conscientious thought. It reads as a book written for the well bred and socially minded of the upper classes. It is, in fact, a challenge to think beyond what one thinks they believe, to ask the uncomfortable question, "Am I living the best life that is in me?" Daniel's mother asked the question and answered it selfishly. Sir Hugo asked the question and lived his life according to duty and tradition. Grandcourt asked the question and left behind him a mess of misuse, bastardry and subjugation. Daniel asked the question and chose a life that would benefit all around him. Daniel Deronda is an astounding accomplishment and I find it a constant source of inspiration, both in my life, and in my work.

(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.

تاريخ القراءة الأصلي : 1996
من أوائل الروايات التي قرأتها