a little snipping always does me good

I first read Middlemarch a year ago or maybe it was two.  The back of the library book said it was about two unhappy marriages, so I got it in my head that Lydgate and Dorothea would wind up in love with one another in some swoony, tragic ending.  I was a good 800 pages in before I realized the climax I was waiting for was never coming.

And maybe that is what made me love it.  But no, it was so much more.  And then last month I heard this interview with Rebecca Mead about her new memoir, and I took out Middlemarch that night and have been reading it since.

And this is all I want to say, really: that Middlemarch is perfect.  It is painful and kind.  And it is my favorite.

I love favorite books.  I never want to read anything new.  Some people aren’t like this, or so I hear.  But I am, and I don’t want to be anything else.


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