So I've read this book. It's by Thomas Hardy, which means it's at least 150 years old. I read his Jude the Obscure in uni, where it was the novel that took me the longest to get through, apart from Freedom by Jonathan Franzen (and probably Pamela by Richardson, but that I didn't even start). So why would I ever dare to get into a Hardy story again? For one thing, I'd seen the film. This is a cliche, but cliches are there for a reason; they tend to be true. I'd seen the film, and although it baffled me slightly in places, I really liked the story and the characters and the whole bizarre atmosphere. Also, I went on Goodreads and saw that the novel had some pretty positive and humorous reviews, strengthening me in my belief that this might actually be a different sort of novel.
So I started on Far From the Madding Crowd. And it was everything I thought it would be, and better.
Now Hardy was a Victorian. Which basically means he was a prude, especially to modern Dutch eyes. But then he goes and writes a novel about a strong female character who not only runs a farm on her own, but also has three suitors hanging about. This gets him into trouble on several occasions, where Bethsheba's personality seems to make a 180 degree turn to have her fit into the then accepted idea of female dependence, religious purity and overall correctness. This is all set in some idyllic rural setting, which, if you read between the lines, is not that idyllic after all.
I had the advantage of reading the Penguin scholarly edition, which uses the original manuscript text and not the revised version that was actually published. This contains even more out-of-character remarks on sexuality, religion and other subjects that would not have passed the censor. As such, it is a beautiful period piece, showing a pretty young Hardy (he was 34 when it was published) exploring some pretty wild ideas. It all wraps up nicely and correctly, but the way there is strangely crooked.
But apart from the weird inconsistencies in the tone and subject matter, this novel has some really weird plot twists. When Bathsheba moves out of reach for Gabriel Oak, her first love interest, all of his sheep mysteriously jump off a cliff and fall to their death, forcing him to find other employ and ending up saving some distant farm's crops from a fire - a distant farm that surprisingly turns out to belong to Bathsheba. Unrealistic much? But it is all written down with a matter-of-factness that implies that these things happen in rural communities, where life is so much smaller and easier.
I won't spoil any more of the plot (although this classic story is probably known to those who actually want to read it, and of no interest to anyone else), but there are several other great moments involving Valentines, bloated sheep, pistols fired, and general miscomprehension. I wonder how Hardy's contemporaries read this story, as it may have offended their good taste on several accounts. Or maybe this story shows that our ideas of prude Victorians are too strict, and they may well have just like us, if you dare to read between the lines. That bodes well for the other classic Victorian novels that have been sitting on my bookshelves for too long!
