“So that, whatever the stars were made for, they were not made to please our eyes. It is just the same in everything; nothing is made for man.”

3.5/5
Oh, Hardy, if only you could have been consistent and kept your literary gaze upon stars and astronomy throughout this novel! I have a complicated relationship with Hardy: On the one hand, I dislike his treatment of his female protagonists, he seem to dislike women in general and almost constantly gives them devastating destinies in his novels while being condescending in myriad of ways. On the other hand, his mastery of prose is so exquisite, his descriptions and love for the rural Britain and its inhabitants are so prominent and delicious. There was so much promise of excellence in this novel. Well...

The two from the title are Constantine (not subtle with the naming there, aren't we, Hardy?), a 29-years-old widow, a smart and emotional woman and constant to the point of destruction, and Swithing (means 'strong' in Old English), a 20-year-old astronomer on the brink of his career. They fall in love on his observation tower and are forced to hide their love.

And thus ensues the sensationalist, ten-plot-twists-in-a-chapter soap opera narrative that Katherine Morland from Austen's Northanger Abbey would relish. Astronomy is almost forgotten, our backs are turned to the stars and now we look upon human folly and societal hypocrisy. So, no more tower, just the two.

What kept me going? A majestic interpretation of the audiobook by Michael Kitchen (adding him to my favorites) and aforementioned Hardy's excellent prose. And I can't say I'm not prone to over-the-top soap operas, I just didn't want them in my Victober reads.

I cared about the characters and wanted to slap them to wake up to their lives and do something almost every five minutes. Regardless of everything, I did care about them.
So, where does this leave me and Mr. Hardy? I now officially consider him my frenemy.