Eliot’s writing style in The Mill on the Floss is dense—she moves from evocative metaphors and imagery to lengthy sections of dialogue to seemingly endless references to books, politics, and art (leading to over 500 pages of prose).
Eliot was not worried about being concise and, in fact, chose to make the novel repetitive in some sections by having characters play out the same debate or conversation several different times. (This is perhaps best seen in Stephen and Maggie’s saga about whether or not they should be in a romantic relationship.) In this way, Eliot’s commitment to realism comes through as, in real life, people often struggle to take decisive action and can discuss a critical issue for extended periods of time.
The narration of the novel is third-person omniscient—meaning the narrator can peek into the minds of all of the characters—yet also switches into first or second person at times when the narrator wants to comment on the proceedings or share philosophical reflections and musings about the human condition, such as in the following passage near the beginning of the novel:
We could never have loved the earth so well if we had had no childhood in it, — if it were not the earth where the same flowers come up again every spring that we used to gather with our tiny fingers as we sat lisping to ourselves on the grass — the same hips and haws on the autumn hedgerows — the same redbreasts that we used to call “God’s birds,” because they did no harm to the precious crops. What novelty is worth that sweet monotony where everything is known, and loved because it is known?
This quote offers an example of these types of narratorial reflections. This one focuses on how memory carries a specific kind of emotional weight, inspiring adults to love people and things that they associate with fond childhood experiences. By having the narrator share musings like this, Eliot helps readers understand the types of themes and lessons she is trying to communicate in the novel.
