Tess, Tess, Tess. I have been reticent to anatomize you. You are a lot to take. There's the surface, and then there's everything going on under the surface...

What am I going to say about Tess that has not been more masterfully and eloquently coaxed forth before my encounter with what is arguably a perfect novel?

That Hardy's rebuke of moral fortitude comes down swift and hard?  Okay, perhaps that wasn't his point. But throughout the history of literature as a discipline, women notoriously have not represented themselves. Yet, occasionally, the stunning brilliance of placing a woman in the center of a story and surrounding her with corrupt men manages to convey her reality. Not only did Hardy tell Tess's heartbreaking story with tenderness and insight, but I don't know when I've fallen so hard in love with a character.

Tess is a pure heart. Hardy's writing is sublime: a balanced trifecta of setting, characterization, and plot that tells the story of an English country girl who exists in a duality she cannot sustain. She carries the weight of the world's morality on her beautiful little head, a peasant girl who doesn't hold the power to defend against the ills brought forth by society and the flexible application of their upright virtues.

This story will stick with me forever.