Word: middlemarch
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...white photo of junked automobiles on the cover; part of a faux Penguin Classics design for the entire book (closer inspection reveals the publisher to be “Polyhex Classics,” a Transformers reference, naturally). With these wrappings, the book could easily mingle unnoticed alongside _Middlemarch_ and _The Canterbury Tales_. Whether it deserves such illustrious company is somewhat questionable. Like the “grown-up” covers on _Harry Potter_ reprints in the UK, this tactic seems designed to allow the child within to enjoy himself without embarrassing the adult without. Perhaps it?...
...someone respond to “what do you think of Israel?” with, “Actually, I’m really struggling with it.” I want to hear someone answer those general section starters (“what did you think of Middlemarch?”) by asking questions (“What is Eliot trying to say about vocation? I wasn’t sure…”) rather than spouting an analysis and critique of form...
Going to Harvard is one of the things I've accomplished that I'm most proud of. I learned how to live proactively, making choices about what was more and less important to me. This meant skipping that party on a Saturday night to finally finish Middlemarch, or going out for a Bellhaven the night before the "Matter in the Universe" midterm. At Harvard, I learned that being good to myself meant balancing academic priorities against the other things going on in my life...
...longer than three pages--perfect for attention spans ground down to nothing by TV. No one will mistake Chicken Soup for literature, and in case you miss the point, the cover blurb from Robin ("Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous") Leach is a clue that you're not buying Middlemarch. From book to book, the tone is unvarying: earnest, unadorned and ruthlessly uplifting. The stories are gathered under recurring rubrics--"On Love," "A Matter of Attitude," "Live Your Dream," "Learning to Love Yourself"--and deal with such universal themes as a mother's love, obstacles overcome, misunderstandings resolved, the cuteness...
Literature has better consolations than either life or tabloids. After Diana's funeral one wistfully looks up the quote at the end of George Eliot's Middlemarch and reads: "... For the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs...