When I started the year planning to read all of George Eliot’s novels in order, I was a bit worried about two that, in my limited perspective, few people ever read: Romola and Felix Holt. Written between Silas Marner and Middlemarch, it seemed to me that most readers — unless they were Eliot completists — ignored them. I don’t think this is unjustified. The only Eliot novel I have yet to read is Daniel Deronda (though before I get there I will be rereading Middlemarch starting in January — come along, if you’d like!), and I have to admit that I enjoyed Romola and Felix Holt the least. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy them; indeed, in each instance I got caught up in the story and the characters and was anxious to see how it would all play out. Felix Holt, in particular, kept on surprising me with its twists and turns, and it contains one of my favorite characters ever.

So what is Felix Holt about?

You could say it’s about Felix Holt, a young idealist (with not a small dose of arrogance), who has recently returned to town, staunchly aligned with the interests of workers and the poor to the point where no matter what opportunities may come his way he will accept nothing that makes him wealthy.

But the story isn’t just about Felix Holt (indeed, I often felt like he was in the background). A character who undergoes more introspection and change throughout the novel is the young Esther Lyon. Raised by a kind, dissenting minister, she learns early in the book that Rev. Lyon is not her biological father, and he does not know who her biological father is (though he is afraid someone might know and reveal, which he can hardly bare). Esther is attracted to Felix’s idealism and sincerity, and she seems to appreciate that he is willing to be blunt with her, an area of the story I found a bit painful, since Esther hardly seems to need Felix’s condescension; nevertheless, attraction builds between them.

The book is also about Harold Transome, who has also recently returned home and who intends to run in the upcoming election as a radical candidate — though Felix (and this reader) could not discover the heart of his ideals, other than he might like a little bit of a rebellious reputation as he continues to shore up his wealth and position.

The fates and fortunes of these three individuals intertwine, complete with an inheritance plot that intrigues and threatens to change everything.

But my favorite character is Mrs. Transome, Harold’s mother. She is introduced to us early on as “absorbed by memories and prospects.” I got the sense she expected more from life than she has gotten. She recently lost her oldest son, which is why Harold has returned, and Harold doesn’t pay his respects to her as much as she’d like. Her husband is now senile and does not care for the estate (not to say there is evidence of any great past love between them). Here is a fantastic passage from the start of the novel:

As Mrs. Transome descended the stone staircase in her old black velvet and point, her appearance justified Denner’s personal compliment. She had that high-born, imperious air which would have marked her as an object of hatred and reviling by a revolutionary mob. Her person was too typical of social distinctions to be passed by with indifference by any one: it would have fitted an empress in her own right, who had had to rule in spite of faction, to dare the violation of treaties and dread retributive invasions, to grasp after new territories, to be defiant in desperate circumstances, and to feel a woman’s hunger of the heart forever unsatisfied. Yet Mrs. Transome’s cares and occupations had not been at all of an imperial sort. For thirty years she had led the monotonous, narrowing life which used to be the lot of our poorer gentry; who never went to town, and were probably not on speaking terms with two out of the five families whose parks lay within the distance of a drive. When she was young she had been thought wonderfully clever and accomplished, and had been rather ambitious of intellectual superiority—had secretly picked out for private reading the higher parts of dangerous French authors—and in company had been able to talk of Mr. Burke’s style, or of Chateaubriand’s eloquence—had laughed at the Lyrical Ballads, and admired Mr. Southey’s Thalaba. She always thought that the dangerous French writers were wicked and that her reading of them was a sin; but many sinful things were highly agreeable to her, and many things which she did not doubt to be good and true were dull and meaningless.

She also has to undergo a lot of change through this novel, which includes confronting many of the demons of her past that she’s been trying to avoid for years.

Ultimately, I liked Felix Holt very much — which is very easy to write just after revisiting some passages about Mrs. Transome. I did find the middle third, as Eliot is arranging many of the threads she introduced at the start and that she’ll expertly weave together toward the end, was a bit taxing, but ultimately I found it all worthwhile. I hope people who are interested give it a go.