Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Epilepsy in Lit: Silas Marner

In an attempt to read more classic literature, I recently read Silas Marner by George Elliot. While I don't think the main focus of the book is centered on Marner's "fits", his condition does act as a sort of inciting incident.

Marner is a weaver that lives in a town called Lantern Yard. He is known to have fits but that doesn't really have an impact on his standing in the town until one night a bag of gold goes missing while he is on watch over a sickly man.

Marner claims to have lost time, as those of us with epilepsy know all too well. For the non-epileptic folks out there, imagine going from normal to blackout drunk in a snap. If that's not your style either, I'm sure you've experienced waking up early, wanting to sleep for five more minutes, and instead waking up three hours after you're supposed to be at work. It's kinda like that.

Of course, Marner didn't really steal the money. But he is found guilty. Feeling betrayed, Marner leaves his town and ends up in Raveloe. At first he is well respected. But then his misfortune returns. He reads as a character that just can't seem to have a lucky day in his life. In a kind of series of unfortunate events that don't directly relate to his condition, he is considered in league with the devil. (People in those times weren't all that creative--I'm talking about the characters, not the writer). All you really need to know besides that is that the book ends happily.

Like I said, it doesn't seem that Marner's fits necessarily perpetuate his bad reputation. But instead they lead him to be in situations where his reputation could be compromised should he have a seizure. I find this representation of epilepsy interesting. It's almost so subtle that it could be overlooked. I mean, Elliot could have just make him fall asleep.

But this story relays a truth that might not be obvious. Even if a disability doesn't directly affect a certain situation, it still permeates your life. Sure my epilepsy doesn't make me a suspicious person, but what if I had an absence seizure during an interview (and likely wouldn't notice). I could be viewed as aloof or uncaring. I should note that it's totally likely I'll have a seizure that causes me to eat the last slice of pizza in the fridge. It's not my fault I swear!

Anyway, the book spoke to me in another, perhaps more subtle way, through the fact that George Elliot is in fact a woman named Mary Ann Evans. She felt the need to hide her gender to get more readers (this thinking was unfortunately valid), much like people feel the need to hide their disabilities as much as possible to avoid discrimination. Perhaps her experience as a female writer of male characters bleed through in her portrayal of Marner. Perhaps Marner provided a vessel through which she could, consciously or unconsciously, voice her frustration at being accused of something based on something she could not control.

All in all, I learned a couple things from this: references to epilepsy in literature can be more subtle and profound than I ever thought. Second, people from all time periods, from all places struggle with hiding qualities that make them unique, qualities that are seen as unfavorable to society in general.

Perhaps in reading books like these we can gain a better understanding of invisible, private "disabilities". We can also learn that the most disadvantaged are the easiest to blame.

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