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Anthony Trollope was one of the most successful, prolific and respected novelists of the Victorian era.
We have all felt how on occasions our own hopes and fears, nay, almost our own individuality, become absorbed in and obliterated by the more pressing cares and louder voices of those around us.
He Knew He Was Right, Chapter LXIII, Sir Marmaduke at Home
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Mr Trollope always writes in earnest. He never treats his people as if they were mere puppets, nor his incidents as if they were mere dreams. They are a reality in his own mind while he writes about them; he honestly feels for them as if they were actual neighbours in the flesh; and hence he talks of love-making without any levity, and of little meannesses and small ambitions in the matter of money without any sneering or snarling.
(The Claverings) Saturday Review, 18th May 1867
