This novel, one of Thomas Hardy's earliest (second, I believe), has really so little to it that it might have been a novella. But it's incredibly charming as a painting of a more civilized (not necessarily more godly) time and place whose accouterments must be alien to every reader of today, probably even the English people of Wessex. I like it terribly, even as I admit the story often struggled to hold my attention. It's a feel-good novel. My reaction was mainly...envy.

The central story, a boy's courtship of a new young schoolteacher who has multiple suitors, is so simple in premise and in the nature of its two characters that even the reader who isn't jaded might laugh at it, or at them--especially the girl. It's difficult not to laugh at her emotionalism, Dick's insecurity, and the odd quickness with which she decides yes, she loves him. Until one realizes there's not the slightest tincture of satire, or parody, or amusement at the characters. Their story is earnest and so are they.

There is an incidental issue early in the book that couldn't escape my notice. One more aspect of his portrait of the rural life of Hardy's childhood, which quite disappears from view in the second half on the novel (as all attention focuses on the courtship), is the life of the village church. The new young vicar wants to replace the venerable string orchestra with an organ. The string players are pompous, self-satisfied old geezers who call their faith and practice "musical religion" (as opposed to Christianity); they sit there in the gallery with their instruments and lord it over the rest of the congregation, even complaining sanctimoniously if members of the congregation try to sing with the instruments--! (The vicar seemingly has no idea of their obnoxiousness. Why he's so set on replacing the orchestra with an organ is not very clear, unless it's just because one really must do what's fashionable.) Naturally, the men react badly to the vicar's plan; this is the subplot. And it is apparently the life of the church Hardy knew. Horrible.

I don't even remember why I became interested in reading Thomas Hardy, but I supposed I would start at or near the beginning; this was the earliest Hardy work I could find (I mistakenly thought it was the first, for a time). Even though I'm aware the rest of Hardy's oeuvre is notoriously unhappy, I had such a good experience reading Under the Greenwood Tree that I want to read more of Hardy even knowing I probably won't find this again. Except that I have the strong impression Far From the Madding Crowd (the other novel I considered starting Hardy at) is largely the same story as Under the Greenwood Tree.