" This is one of the most depressing books I've ever read, ranking with Mill on the Floss as to the futility of outcome. It left me feeling from beginning to end, regardless of Mr. Hardy's amazing descriptions of the surroundings and the portraits of the characters, that I wasted my time starting it, much less re-reading it. I only rated it as high as I did because of those brilliant descriptions. I had thought that re-reading it might provide a softer memory of the story line but it has not. It has cemented a feeling of distrust as to the way Mr. Hardy treated the intelligence of his readers. I am only glad that he is dead and is no longer able to encumber the precious hours saved for repose through reading, especially serious reading, with such obvious tools meant to destroy the peace of his characters, and therefore his readers with such nonsense. When Mrs. Yeobright, Sr, sends off her weak-minded servant with the precious monetary inheritance of her niece and son, and we readers are expected to believe that there is any chance that the intended recipients will actually recieve their bequests in a proper manner is ludicrous. If this were to happen once in the novel it would be excusable but it happens at every turn of the page from beginning to end. It begins with the weak, frivolous Eustacia Vye crushing the sweet hopes of Tamsie Yeobright as Miss Vye weaves her spell over Wildeve, right up until the end when Clem Yeobright tries to dash the hopes of Tamsie as she is desirous of accepting the first man she really loved as he extends yet again a proposal of marriage. It is pathetic and untenable. "
— Colleen, 1/8/2014