Thomas Hardy. Far From the Madding Crowd. Rev. ed. 1895. Amazon.com. 2004. E-book.

Thomas Hardy writes wonderfully. He expresses so many things with the perfect word in each sentence. His images and sensory descriptions come alive like no other prose. His word pictures of the natural world in and around southwestern England—what he calls Wessex—delight the mind. His presentation of the farms and singing birds not only makes the writing live but makes the reader want to visit.

But Hardy’s nature in Far From the Madding Crowd is not always idyllic. There is that thunderstorm which washes the torrents of water through the mouth of the church’s “gurgoyle” that doubles as a water spout. Nature is indifferent. It can provide peace and shelter as it does sometimes in this novel, but it can also lead to the destruction of shepherd Gabriel Oak’s flock of sheep, and, therefore, any hope he has of a stable life—and the only hope of winning the hand of the beautiful but proud Bathsheba Everdene. (She is a collateral ancestor of Katniss Everdean, but I would not make too big a deal of it.)

Although critics like Arthur Quiller-Couch have tried to analyze or categorize story plots into different types, famous horror-flick director-producer Roger Corman said there is only one plot: A stranger comes to town.

So in this tale the beautiful but still naïve Miss Everdene comes to Weatherbury to live with her aunt and ultimately inherit her uncle’s working farm. Though legal in the second half of the nineteenth century, it was still unusual for a woman to inherit property like this. Yet we are told that the uncle saw intelligence and promise in his niece. The people in town note that she prefers to ride a horse like a man.

Shepherd Oak saw something else. He and the turnpike gatekeeper discuss their brief encounter on first meeting this “handsome maid.” They each express admiration for her attractiveness, but Oak notes realistically, “She has her faults.” No, not snobbery, he suggests, but something else.

“What then?”

“Vanity.”

And so the first chapter ends. And so the tale of Bathsheba, Gabriel, Mr. Boldwood, Sergeant Tory, Liddy, Fanny, Coogan, and the other inhabitants of the village of Weatherbury begins.

As in other Hardy novels, there are plenty of plot twists—some funny, some ironic. Depending on one’s sense of humor, some readers might find them all ironic. While things never happen randomly, people who do not pay attention to nature lose their crops or flocks. Similarly, people who do not pay attention to character traits of others or to their own flaws may lose their reputations or even their lives.

Because of Tess of the D’Urbervilles and Jude the Obscure, Hardy has a reputation of being “dark” or “bleak.” Far From the Madding Crowd is not that. It is merely realistic. Indeed, it even has a very tender happy ending. It is worth getting there.

Of course, to arrive at that ending, the characters have to go through many trials. People are tested. And, as in real life, even the best of people do not pass every test. As in any Hardy novel, there are surprises. One common surprise in his novels is the secret wedding. It seems to be a recurring theme in many of his works. And secret weddings leave some people disappointed, if not betrayed.

Yes, Miss Everdene’s flaw is vanity. And she endures a lot to learn that it is something she must manage.

And if Bathsheba is an ancestor of Katniss, then the dashing, witty, educated, Sergeant Troy is a collateral descendant of Austen’s Wickham. Mr. Boldwood echoes Henchard, the Mayor of Casterbridge. And the abandoned, exploited, torch-carrying Fanny is herself a type that runs through literature, especially stories of knights and chivalry. Think “The Lady of Shallot” or Lancelot and Elaine.

A stranger comes to town. And another. And another. Life is hard. But in this sad story of desperate people, Gabriel Oak, while making mistakes, lives up to his name. He is the steady one. He grows, if slowly. He withstands the storm. He can tell time by the stars. He reads the sky accurately to predict the weather. Ultimately, he understands character and can tell the difference between superficial and deadly flaws. Though he loses his own flock through misjudging a sheepdog, as a servant he helps others save their sheep and corn and even their lives. He is quiet, patient, and, much of the time, in the background. He is a reminder of another Good Shepherd. After all, true character is what you are when no one is watching.