Before I knew anything about Middlemarch, a coworker shrugged and told me it was all about "English ladies and dresses," which now that I'm seven chapters in strikes me as a rather reductive summing up of the book.

That being said, I do like Celia a lot, who is purring and blonde, not a deep thinker, practical and direct, and enjoys pretty things. Dorothea is like Margery Kempe--hysterically sobbing with religious fervor over organ music. Jessie wrote an essay on women crying for religious reasons: I think the thesis was that it was one expression of faith people couldn't control. Watching Dorothea make her choice is like watching an animal walk into a trap, and I imagine her mind will be like one of those pigs in gestation crates. Everyone around is her is like: "Whelp, it could be worse, I guess."