Reader discussion: The Mill on the Floss

Public reader discussion about The Mill on the Floss in the WeRead Catalog by George Eliot.

If you have read Middlemarch, who are your favorite and least favorite characters?

By Stone_Brown1977

I’m about 90 pages from the end, and I feel like the tone shifted a lot. Early on, most of the characters were at least somewhat fun to be around, but now that I’m near the end it’s like their real motives and flaws are all showing. It’s weirdly honest, though—kind of a “true” human story. I’m curious what everyone else thinks about the characters. My favorites: Dorothy, Lydgate, Will Ladislaw, and the Garth family. Not really into: Rosamund, Bulstrode, Mrs. Cadwaller, Raffles, Fred Vincy, Mr. Vincy, and Causabon. A lot of them just seem focused on themselves and their place in the world, and I can’t really see how they fit into anything bigger. Especially Rosy, Causabon, and Bulstrode. And because of that, it ends up messing with other people too. It honestly feels tough watching them block other chances to grow just so they can benefit themselves, and then you see the other side of it hit the whole town.

Middlemarch by George Eliot - One of the best books ever, yea or nay?

By pine_reads

Ugh, but seriously… why is there so much of it? After thinking on it, a bunch of my “complaints” about *Middlemarch* are kind of these small, boring technical things that are honestly easy to answer once you stop being annoyed. And at the same time, I don’t actually doubt anymore that it belongs in the “best books ever” pile. Eliot herself feels genuinely impressive, especially when you remember the era she was writing in and the whole (pretty strict, religious/social) world she grew up in. That said, I’m kind of glad we don’t need a ton more “you have to read this” books that are built like *Middlemarch*. Like, her character work and themes and that realist style still land really well. But the form and structure… not always. Why did it have to be *so* long? It kind of feels like she stitched together what were basically two (unfinished) storylines—Lydgate and Dorothea—and then kept adding more threads until it becomes this Frankenstein-ish mashup. And sure, it’s “a study of provincial life,” but did we really need to sit through so many townsfolk scenes of petty talk and neighbour nonsense? I mean, yeah, I got the point. In a few spots the book is really pushing this idea that people are flawed and can’t avoid messing up. I relate, because my own life is basically one long “oops” moment. But it also felt like Fred had to learn the same lesson twice—first early on, then again later—like, come on. And the digressions… whew. There were times the plot felt like it could’ve moved faster without huge stretches on the paperwork/logic side of wills and inheritances. I was basically yawning my way through the Featherstone saga, and it only seemed like it was there to bring in Joshua Rigg, who is a secondary character, and yet he somehow becomes the trigger for a lot of what happens in the second half. He’s not even really mentioned until halfway through the story, which felt wild to me. I guess I’m surprised the same way the Featherstones are—like, oh okay, so that’s where this is going. And weirdly, it’s kind of funny to think Eliot might’ve built the structure to match the plot reactions at that moment, even if it sounds absurd when you say it out loud. That said, there’s also a lot that’s just unexpectedly entertaining, even when it’s annoying: - the narrator’s sharp, mean-ish humor - the way she keeps breaking down characters’ loops of self-deception and self-consciousness (sometimes it almost feels way ahead of its time) - Lydgate’s whole messy ex situation—this actress he falls for, the stabbing/husband confusion, and then the later reveal that it was actually planned all along. It felt like it could’ve come straight out of something much more modern. - and that super long auction scene with Mr. Borthrop Trumbell selling off the fender, where the comparison is this extremely grim “use it as a tool” type of emergency scenario… and somehow it reads like the author is roasting middle-class vanity as hard as possible Even with all that, I still can’t really avoid the bigger takeaway: her writing is still brilliant. It’s both this tight local portrait and (as far as people say) it’s also got real ties to Spinoza’s *Ethics*. That part has me curious. How closely does *Middlemarch* actually follow Spinoza’s ideas? And do you think Eliot leans more into affect/emotions (or Spinoza’s “inadequate ideas”) than he does? Anyway, maybe it’s “so much” because so much of it is too good to cut. But I’m still curious what other people think. Also I’m probably going to take a break from heavy Victorian stuff and try Zadie Smith’s *Changing My Mind* next—though I’m open to any recommendations that fit the mood.

George Eliot - The Mill on the Floss

By paperbackmuddy6917

Chapter 1: Outside Dorlcote Mill The first bit is all this broad open land, with the Floss running along between its green banks and heading for the sea, and the tide coming in to meet it and sort of holding it back. On that tide the dark ships go past, carrying fresh fir boards, sacks of seed, and coal, into St Ogg's, with its old red roofs and big wharves showing between the low hill and the river edge, and the water getting a soft purple look in that February sunlight. Land goes on and on both sides, with fields and patches of dark soil ready for crops, and some of last year’s ricks still standing here and there beyond the hedges. The hedges are full of trees too, and the ships out on the river almost seem like they’re sailing right among the branches. Near the town the Ripple comes into the Floss, and it’s a pretty little river with those dark little ripples. It feels almost like a companion when I walk by it and listen to it, like somebody quiet and kind. I keep remembering the big willows... and the stone bridge... And here’s Dorlcote Mill. I have to stop a minute on the bridge and look at it, even though the clouds are looking bad and the afternoon’s getting late. Even now in late February it looks nice enough, maybe even nicer because of the cold damp weather, with the neat house sitting there under the old elms and chestnuts. The stream is full and high now, and it almost covers the grassy edge in front of the house. Looking at the water, the green grass, and the pale bright stuff softening the old trees, I feel like I’d happily stay in wet weather forever, and I almost envy the white ducks dipping down into the stream there among the willows. The water rushing and the mill going make that sort of half-dreamy quiet that makes everything seem calmer. It’s like a thick sound curtain keeping the rest of the world away. Then there’s the heavy covered wagon coming back with grain sacks. The wagoner’s probably thinking about dinner, all dry and waiting at home, but he won’t get to it until the horses are fed first. The horses look so patient and strong, and I can just imagine them giving him a kind of reproachful look for snapping the whip like that, as if they needed it. They pull hard up toward the bridge, and somehow they seem to do it better because home is so near. I love their big rough feet, the strong necks under the collar, the muscles in their hind legs. I’d like to hear them snort over their feed and see them, with their damp necks free again, dipping into the muddy pond. Then they’re over the bridge and gone again behind the trees. Then I can look back at the mill and the wheel throwing out those little bright sprays of water. The little girl is watching it too; she’s been standing there by the water ever since I stopped on the bridge. And that odd white dog with the brown ear seems to be barking at the wheel for no good reason, maybe because he’s jealous that his little friend in the bonnet is so fascinated by it. I think it’s probably time for her to go inside too, since there’s that bright fire waiting for her, with the red glow showing out under the darkening sky. And it’s probably time for me to stop leaning on this cold stone bridge as well... Honestly, my arms have gone numb. I’d been pressing my elbows on the chair arms and half-dreaming I was really standing on the bridge in front of Dorlcote Mill, back when it looked like this one February afternoon a long time ago. Before I nodded off, I was about to say what Mr. and Mrs. Tulliver were talking about while they sat by the fire in the left parlour that same afternoon I was dreaming about.

Imo's Insights: Why George Eliot's Mill on the Floss is a timeless novel that rings true today

By tender-badger

George Eliot’s *The Mill on the Floss* feels like one of those stories that’s still really hard to put down, even though it’s set forever ago. It’s basically about growing up as a girl and then being treated like a “woman,” and you can feel all the class stuff and people’s big dreams for status just sitting under everything. Maggie Tulliver is written so vividly that I kept thinking her whole life could be turned into a super good prestige TV drama. Maggie’s the kind of person who can’t help but want more—more ideas, more freedom, more of a life that isn’t just whatever her town expects. And Eliot gets that special kind of frustration when you’re smart and you care a lot, but doors keep closing because you’re a woman. It still hits now. Like, yeah, school isn’t the problem—girls do great there—but work is still a different story. There are still ceilings (the invisible kind) and biases you don’t even notice until they’re messing with you. But it’s not only about opportunities being blocked. It’s also about Maggie trying to figure out who she’s actually supposed to be when everyone keeps telling her what she should do. The whole pull between family/duty and her own wants is brutal. I feel like that’s something a lot of women deal with for way longer than people think. How do you love the people who expect things from you and still refuse to lose yourself? And honestly, the book doesn’t play nice about what happens when a woman doesn’t follow the “right” script. Even when you cheer for Maggie being brave, it costs her—scandal, being pushed out, and then tragedy that just keeps getting worse. That fear of being judged doesn’t go away when you get older. Wanting to be yourself can feel freeing, but it also brings real consequences, both in your personal life and your career. People can be unfair just because you don’t fit the box they want you in. There’s also this whole layer about class and respectability in her world, like her family is trying to hold their heads high while still wanting to rise up. Ambition is supposed to help you, but it can also trap you. The tug-of-war between staying where you’re “rooted” and leaving for something better still feels very real. Even with all the bad stuff, Maggie’s spirit is the part that stuck with me. It’d be easy to read her as just tragic, but she’s more than that. There’s something about her stubborn refusal to let everything crush her, even when she messes up. It’s like a quiet kind of courage. I was left with a bunch of questions too—like whether we actually back girls’ minds in real life, not just as a nice idea, and what prejudices still steer the way women get treated. Do we really know how to belong without giving up who we are? And how much bravery do you need when stepping out of expectations might blow up in your face? So yeah, the questions Eliot raises aren’t outdated at all. Maggie’s story still feels like a mirror, and it makes you want to be a little kinder and a little braver—no matter what era you’re living in or what you’re wearing.

2026: Welcome and Intro

By cipherSail937

Alright, if you’re new to Middlemarch (or even if you’ve been here before), I hope everyone’s got their copy by now and is ready to jump in for next week’s first chat—starting with the Prelude and Chapter 1. And the thing that struck me right away is that the Prelude kind of turns us in a totally new direction. It feels like Eliot was doing that on purpose, to set up a wider frame and make you stop and think about why Saint Theresa is the one that opens the novel. So as you start reading, I’d be curious how you’re connecting it all—like what threads link the Prelude to the story and the characters. Also, a few quick things to keep in mind: the novel’s subtitle is “A Study of Provincial Life,” and the subtitle changes from book to book. We start Book 1 with “Miss Brooke.” Plus, every chapter has an epigraph—some are from Eliot, but a lot come from all kinds of other sources. I know this is basically centered on Dorothea Brooke and Tertius Lydgate, and their big idealism—how they deal with everything life throws at them. But it’s also way bigger than just them. Eliot really zooms out to the whole Middlemarch community and treats it like a full-on look at provincial life—how culture, science, politics, relationships, and even how people understand each other all get affected. And it’s written from the past, set about 40 years earlier, so she can sort of map out real changes onto this fictional town. One more thing: Eliot lived a pretty unusual life, and some of the feminist ideas you can feel in her choices show up in how she writes these characters—especially the women here. She seems really sharp about human nature, and the way the community’s connections work gets examined with both insight and a bit of humor. I’m excited to see what everyone thinks as we get to know the place and the people. So, is anyone completely new to George Eliot? Or have you read other stuff of hers? Are you reading Middlemarch again, or cracking it open for the first time? And yeah… are you actually excited (or just bracing yourself) for 800+ pages?

Is there a reason why George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans) is still published under her pseudonym?

By tenderharbor

It feels kind of odd that other women writers from back then who wrote under pen names—like Jane Austen and the Brontë sisters—are published under their real names now, but we still refer to Mary Ann Evans by her male pen name. Does anyone know why that is?

Struggling to finish The Mill on the Floss, my first Eliot novel

By silver_cougar4061

I’m taking a class on the Victorian era right now and I’ve been pretty into it so far—love British lit in general (even though I’m American), and I usually end up liking British novels way more than American ones. My favorites are stuff like Ishiguro, Murdoch, Dickens, the Brontës, Fowles, Amis, McEwan, and I’m also a big Tennyson and Brownings person. So yeah, I was honestly really pumped to get to George Eliot, since she’s such a big deal. In class we’re reading **The Mill on the Floss**, and my professor basically said it’s not her best and he’d rather do **Middlemarch**, but it’s just too long to cover everything else. I get that, but still—I was excited to start Eliot since it’s my first time with her. And there *are* parts that totally impress me. Her take on how people act is really sharp, and you can definitely tell she was brilliant. But overall I’m just… getting through it. I’m about 256 pages in and it’s 544 pages total, and it feels like I’ve been stuck on the same stretch for forever. The plot is so slow it’s kind of painful, and even early on it doesn’t feel like there’s much plot to begin with. Some characters are interesting (Tom and Philip Wakem, for example), but most of the rest are just “meh.” I don’t even mind unlikeable characters, but in this book pretty much everyone is hard to like, and I don’t really end up caring about them. I get that it’s realist and it’s trying to show ordinary, boring provincial life, but it starts to feel boring *even on the page*. The villains are compelling sometimes—like Fagin and Bill Sykes—because they’re awful in that gripping way, but overall I don’t think anyone is really that compelling. And before anyone says “just stop,” I can’t. It’s for class, so I have to finish it anyway. I also have that annoying habit of not being able to quit books before I’m done. I will say I might be in a rough spot to read something like Eliot. I’ve got two other classes this semester that turned out way more work than I thought, so I’ve been busier than expected, and some of this is on me. But still, I feel like I’m struggling with this way more than I normally do with British authors, which is making me feel kind of bad. So I’m curious—how do other people feel about Eliot? Are her other novels like this, or is **Mill on the Floss** just a slog compared to the rest? And would I probably enjoy something shorter like **Silas Marner** more?

Where to start with George Eliot?

By Calm-Minnow

I know Middlemarch is basically her big, most famous one (and also the longest), but would it actually be the best starting point?

I finished The Mill on the Floss.

By OrbitScarf1985

It took me about two months, but I did really enjoy it. I’m pretty sure a bunch of what Eliot was doing kind of went over my head, and now I’m seeing some of it spelled out for me in the introduction to my Penguin Classics copy by A.S. Byatt. Still, I’d absolutely recommend the book. Eliot’s thoughts on people, history, and society feel like they hold up, and the whole financial trouble + young love stuff was genuinely hard to put down. Next up for me is Daniel Deronda. Consider this me putting an invite out there to join in.

Just finished reading Where The Red Fern Grows to my 9-year old

By WindRearward50

My mom read this to me when I was around 9, and I was absolutely losing it. Then I reread it at 18 on my own, thinking it probably wouldn’t hit me as hard as I remembered. Nope—I was still wrecked. Now I’m a parent and I just read it to my daughter, and I figured since I knew exactly what was coming I’d be fine. Spoiler: I was not. And I can’t tell if I’m just getting more emotional as I get older or if having two dogs somehow makes everything worse, but the last couple chapters had me crying so hard I couldn’t really see, and I couldn’t even talk. I’m still pretty raw hours later. Funny thing is, it feels like the older I get, the stronger it hits me. Has anyone else had a similar experience with this book (or any other)?

I just finished Middlemarch

By Epilogue825

I don’t usually jump into literary stuff here, but it’s honestly a little surreal to have finally finished *Middlemarch* and then just… not be in that world anymore. Curious what you all think about the book. And also, do any of Eliot’s other novels hit the same level (or even higher) for you?

The mill on the floss by George eilot:A review

By happy-bison1999

First review here, so please go easy on me 😅 I felt like this mostly followed the Tulliver family and their really tragic life. George Eliot is honestly a solid writer—she can really get into the emotions and how people connect with each other. If you’re into drama and sad stories, this one’s worth it. The message felt pretty deep too. The ending caught me off guard, but I still thought it was pretty good. I’d definitely recommend it!!

Thoughts on Middlemarch?

By FastSwan

I kind of just have the same thoughts I was saying in the other threads, but after everything’s had a little time to settle and I’ve been poking around other book places, I figured I’d toss in my take here too. This quote really kicked it off for me: her line about how the “growing good of the world” depends on all the little unhistoric stuff, the quiet faithful lives nobody really remembers. When I came across it, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It felt both honest and oddly moving about everyday interactions we usually don’t even notice. I’d heard of George Eliot before, but after reading that, I went from “yeah, I should read her sometime” to actually putting her bibliography way higher up my list. I finished the book a couple weeks ago, and I’m still kind of stunned at how much it matched what I hoped for. I’m drawn to this kind of novel—long cast of characters, not so much plot-driven, more like it’s trying to catch the rhythm/poetry of normal life. Stuff like East of Eden and Anna Karenina is in that lane for me, and Middlemarch absolutely does that same thing, just with its own speed and scope. Her view of the human condition hits hard but doesn’t feel preachy, and the dry wit on top of it all made it even better. I really liked the characters. Lydgate was probably my favorite. I felt for him because he genuinely wants to help people and do the right thing, and then it basically all blows up because he’s got no street smarts. Dorothea felt similar to me in that way too—good intentions, but not always fully seeing what she’s walking into. Everyone else was great in their own lane too: Fred is lazy/idle, Bulstrode is pious but also kind of hypocritical. Even the smaller folks felt vivid, like Farebrother (honestly, what a guy) and Mr. Brooke (he’s such a windbag, but in the most entertaining way). On a more personal level, it also got under my skin. I’m usually pretty optimistic, so I kept wrestling with whether Eliot’s kind of argument holds up when you throw real-world mess into the mix. She really shows that sincerity and earnestness can’t always beat things like naivety or small-town politics. That’s probably why the quote at the start stuck so much—like it kind of insists that having a good heart still matters, even when the world feels cynical. It also somehow felt fitting that I finished it the night before my college graduation. I wanted to underline basically the whole thing—there’s a great line on every page—but besides the one above, I especially loved a bunch of the other passages too, like the ones about human lives slowly influencing each other, the quiet almost-too-long moment of affection, the way Love shows up and then gets gone before you fully understand it, and even the stuff about despair being hope that’s starving instead of actually gone. Also the lines about people being ridiculous with their illusions, goodness shrinking away when it gets shoved too hard, and the idea that we don’t really get to push big changes if we haven’t dealt with the stuff right in our own hands. Anyway, I’m really glad I got to read Eliot through her own eyes. It was such a beautiful journey.

Murakami

By GraceReads69

With this author, I honestly run into way more negative takes than positive ones. I’ve only read a few things so far (1Q84 trilogy and A Wild Sheep Chase), so I can’t really judge everything, but I keep wondering why so many people seem to really dislike him. From what I’ve seen, the main complaints are: - it’s “wordy” — I get why that bothers some people, because there really are tons of long everyday descriptions mixed with big philosophical/social thoughts. But I actually enjoy that. For me, plot isn’t the top priority anyway—more the characters and the way the story is told. And I can’t lie, there’s a heavy melancholy vibe, maybe even depression, and I like how patiently it lets you sit with it, watching people and their struggles in detail. - realism mixed with fantasy — I love this combo. The whole mystic/dreamlike thing alongside that sadness just hits for me. I don’t really like “realistic” fiction in general, but in these books it feels like the real emotions get expressed through this magical layer. - repetition — I’m not sure about this one yet, because I haven’t read that many books. - sex stuff — most of the criticism I’ve seen about that seems to come from Gen Z (and yeah, I’m part of that unfortunately). I’m not really into those scenes either, but it also feels like in everyday life this kind of topic is just… part of the world. The Gen Z thing about avoiding it in pop culture, plus the whole friendship/relationship crisis, makes it seem a bit unhealthy to me. - women characters — this one’s hard for me to comment on. I haven’t caught anything that clearly looks sexist or like women are shoved aside. In the books I read, the women felt pretty normal to me, but I’d genuinely like to hear from women who’ve read more and can tell me what they’re seeing.

The Mill on the Floss

By cosmiccat4595

If you’ve read *Mill on the Floss*, do you think Maggie and Stephen were actually in love, or was it more of a crush that got out of hand? And same question for Maggie and Philip. It feels to me like both Maggie and Stephen thought they were in love, but it might’ve just been infatuation on both sides. I also feel like Philip genuinely loved her and she did love him too—she just got distracted by her feelings for Stephen. Honestly, I kind of wish she had snapped out of it and married Philip. I’m also stuck on that ending bit where Philip and Stephen go to Maggie’s grave. Do people read Stephen marrying someone else as proof he didn’t really love Maggie? Or just that his love wasn’t as strong as Philip’s (or not as strong as it seemed)?

Just finished “Middlemarch,” and absolutely loved it. Any suggestions for a similar classic?

By maple-dreams2002

For sure Cranford, and also Miss Marjoribanks by Margaret Oliphant (and that whole group of books). I also don’t want to leave out Anthony Trollope’s work either.

Just finished Mill on the Floss et now I’m crying

By paperbackmarket2003

Maggie’s probably one of my favorite heroines from “classic” stuff. I feel like George Eliot really nails how messy and complicated people’s minds can be. I read *Middlemarch* last year and I enjoyed it a lot, so now I’m not sure what to pick next—maybe *Daniel Deronda* or *Silas Marner*.

The MIll On the Floss

By WildHeron1980

Just wrapped up The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot, and that ending really tore at me. It felt bittersweet in the worst/best way. Maggie is honestly one of the strongest female characters to me—especially how she keeps standing her ground even when society seems determined to drag her down, and she still puts her family first. But it also made me question what “ideal” even means. Is she different from the people who go against society to chase what they want? And I’m not totally sure about her choices—like, she seems more driven by family than anything romantic. Did she not truly love Stephan? Also, was her interest in Philip more like pity at first, then just turning into real friendship? I keep wondering if she genuinely couldn’t sort out love vs friendship the way she should have, or if she was just immature. Either way, she still feels brave right up to the end. What did you think of the novel?