The Claverings, by Anthony Trollope.
Trollope is the great hoary master of voluminous Victorian novelists, enormously prolific and popular in his day, not exactly unknown but little appreciated in these latter times. A couple of years ago, I decided to give one of his many novels a try, and picked this one completely at random from among the throng, just for a look.
Wound up enjoying it thoroughly. Quiet and dated stuff, to be sure, no dragons, vampires, zombies or universe-destroying, but Trollope had an accurate eye and ear for human beings and their vices, foibles, strengths and weakness. Not sorry at all that I read it.
caw