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Edith Wharton

The Age of Innocence

Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence is set in upper class New York society in the 1870's. Newland Archer is engaged to May Welland and when May's cousin, Countess Ellen Olenska arrives to escape from an unhappy marriage in Europe, Archer agrees to help with to introduce her to the ways of New York society. But he soon sees her as much more than May's cousin. Now for other men the consequences would be simple, a respectable marriage to May and a clandestine affair with Ellen. Archer doesn't want that - but what exactly does he want?

The book illustrates well the struggles to come to terms with life in a claustrophobic society. Archer often considers starting a new life with Ellen, but in the end cannot bring himself to go through with it.

Wharton does have a disconcerting tendency to skip a few months, and it is during these months that the reader might expect a significant part of the plot to occur - but it doesn't. You might think that you would be screaming at Archer to make up his mind, but I didn't find that - part of Wharton's skill is in creating a scenario where his behaviour seems rational. In the end one sees that it isn't a sign of indecisiveness, rather it represents the only way that he can be true to himself.

You can read The Age of Innocence at http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/541

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Product Description
Age of Innocence, by Edith Wharton, is part of the Barnes & Noble Classics series, which offers quality editions at affordable prices to the student and the general reader, including new scholarship, thoughtful design, and pages of carefully crafted extras. Here are some of the remarkable features of Barnes & Noble Classics:
New introductions commissioned from today's top writers and scholars Biographies of the authors Chronologies of contemporary historical, biographical, and cultural events Footnotes and endnotes Selective discussions of imitations, parodies, poems, books, plays, paintings, operas, statuary, and films inspired by the work Comments by other famous authors Study questions to challenge the reader's viewpoints and expectations Bibliographies for further reading Indices & Glossaries, when appropriateAll editions are beautifully designed and are printed to superior specifications; some include illustrations of historical interest. Barnes & Noble Classics pulls together a constellation of influences—biographical, historical, and literary—to enrich each reader's understanding of these enduring works.
 
Winner of the 1921 Pulitzer Prize, The Age of Innocence is Edith Wharton’s masterful portrait of desire and betrayal during the sumptuous Golden Age of Old New York, a time when society people “dreaded scandal more than disease.”

This is Newland Archer’s world as he prepares to marry the beautiful but conventional May Welland. But when the mysterious Countess Ellen Olenska returns to New York after a disastrous marriage, Archer falls deeply in love with her. Torn between duty and passion, Archer struggles to make a decision that will either courageously define his life—or mercilessly destroy it.

Maureen Howard is a critic, teacher, and writer of fiction. Her seven novels include Bridgeport Bus, Natural History, and A Lover’s Almanac. Her memoir, Facts of Life, won the National Book Critics’ Circle Award. She has taught at Yale and Columbia University.
 
No one does New York high society better than Wharton ****
"It was the old New York way of taking life "with effusion of blood"; the way of people who dreaded scandal more than disease, who placed decency above courage, and who considered that nothing was more ill-bred than "scenes", except the behavior of those who gave rise to them."

I do like the way Wharton cuts to the chase and gets to the underbelly of the of 19C New York's hypocritical society. Set in New York's golden age, Wharton tells the story of Newland Archer, who has just announced his engagement to May Welland, although the arrival of May's cousin Countess Ellen Olenska on the heels of a disastrous marriage throws Newland for a loop. Newland and Ellen fight their attraction as he settles down to married life and proper society with May, until finally culminating in a very enigmatic ending to the love story.

Wharton, born Edith Newbald Jones, was born and raised in the high society that she writes about and my understanding is that the old phrase "keeping up with the Joneses" came from the rest of the upper crust trying to keep up with Wharton's family. As much as I enjoyed this, I didn't find it anywhere near as engaging and readable as The House of Mirth, although she is brilliant as always in displaying the foibles, weaknesses and flat out hypocrisy of New York society in the late 19C. This is a very subtle book with a story that unfolds slowly and one to savor slowly - if you're looking for a fast paced, page turning read look elsewhere.
 
An All Time Great *****
This is a book into which I can dip at any moment. The characters are drawn so clearly that they do not disappear into stereotype but instead are constantly surprising the reader with nuances no matter the number of reads.

Newland Archer is the prototype of a man caught between the world of his head and the world of his heart. While he is drawn to Countess Olenska, he is too aware of the consequences of following that attraction. The true wonder of this book is the subtle characterization of May Welland, the innocent cast between the star-crossed lovers. Both rigid in her adherence to the rules of her class and blind to subterfuge around her, the revelation of her depths, her understanding and her compassion offer the reader a full picture of how love, in its many forms, shapes lives.

The writing is exemplary. Both properly archaic and achingly familiar, it draws in the reader, pulling back the curtains on a world so immersed in duty and tradtion and secrecy as to make the reader feel a part of the structure.

I read it periodically, enjoying the pacing, the language and the heartbreak a million times over.
 
A Classical Tale of New York Society ****
Newland Archer has a problem: he is married to one woman and in love with another. No, that is not his problem. If he were living in modern day America the couple would file for divorce, citing "irreconcilable differences," and get on with their lives. But in Edith Wharton's Pulitzer Prize winning novel, The Age of Innocence, Newland lives in New York City in the 1880s and 1890s and is a member of the upper crust of New York society where divorce is not acceptable. Indeed, the rules of this culture are firm and minute, as for example the stricture against entering a box at the opera during a solo.

The novel begins with the return of Countess Olenska, the former Ellen Mingott, who left New York society behind at an early age when she moved to Europe with her aunt. She then married Count Olenska who is described as a brutish person who takes her inheritance (legally as her husband). Ellen leaves him and returns to New York to what she hopes will be the bosom of her family. The response is mixed since a woman is supposed, by cultural standards, to remain with her husband despite any circumstances. Ellen is also given to other behaviors that are contrary to the accepted norm.

At this point in the story Newland becomes engaged to May Welland, a beautiful young woman who is also a member of this society. But as Newland and Ellen interact they become conscious of their love for each other. Archer works (after a fashion) as an attorney for a law firm that primarily serves these families and is asked to persuade Ellen from filing for divorce from Count Olenska, which she finally agrees to do. May and Newland get married and the Countess continues to live in the United States but moves about rather than live in close proximity to Archer. As time goes by they meet on various occasions, always in tense, dramatic fashion. Finally the matriarch of the group, Mrs. Manson Miggot, agrees to provide Ellen with a substantial allowance and Ellen decides to return to Europe, but to remain independent of her husband. Newland is gladdened by this news because he has determined to leave his wife (damn the consequences!) to be with Ellen. The book then reaches it climax with Edith Wharton ultimately saying that one cannot successfully flaunt society's rules. On the other hand, Wharton's sympathies are clearly with Ellen as she is portrayed most favorably throughout the novel.

The Age of Innocence is worth reading as a glimpse into a world most people will never enter. Wharton is particularly well qualified to write about this world as she was a member of high New York society herself. For some people, including myself, this world is shallow and meaningless and the characters in the story frivolous and for the most part uninteresting. In a world where more than one billion people subsist each day on less than a dollar it is hard for me to find sympathy for people whose biggest problem is adhering to a set of rules that have little meaning beyond their circle.
 
Love, Loneliness and the Strictures of Society. *****
Imagine living in a world where life is governed by intricate rituals; a world "balanced so precariously that its harmony [can] be shattered by a whisper" (Wharton); a world ruled by self-declared experts on form, propriety and family history - read: scandal -; where everything is labeled and yet, people are not; where in order not to disturb society's smooth surface nothing is ever expressed or even thought of directly, and where communication occurs almost exclusively by way of symbols, which are unknown to the outsider and, like any secret code, by their very encryption guarantee his or her permanent exclusion.

Such, in faithful imitation of Victorian England, was the society of late 19th century upper class New York. Into this society returns, after having grown up and lived all her adult life in Europe, American-born Countess Ellen Olenska, after leaving a cruel and uncaring husband. She already causes scandal by the mere manner of her return; but not knowing the secret rituals of the society she has entered, she quickly brings herself further into disrepute by receiving an unmarried man, by being seen in the company of a man only tolerated by virtue of his financial success and his marriage to the daughter of one of this society's most respected families, by arriving late to a dinner in which she has expressly been included to rectify a prior general snub, by leaving a drawing room conversation to instead join a gentleman sitting by himself - and worst of all, by openly contemplating divorce, which will most certainly open up a whole Pandora's box of "oddities" and "unpleasantness:" the strongest terms ever used to express moral disapproval in this particular social context. Soon Ellen, who hasn't seen such façades even in her husband's household, finds herself isolated and, wondering whether noone is ever interested in the truth, complains bitterly that "[t]he real loneliness here is living among all these kind people who only ask you to pretend."

Ellen finds a kindred soul in attorney Newland Archer, her cousin May Welland's fiancé, who secretly toys with a more liberal stance, while outwardly endorsing the value system of the society he lives in. Newland and Ellen fall in love - although not before he has advised her, on his employer's and May and Ellen's family's mandate, not to pursue her plans of divorce. As a result, Ellen becomes unreachable to him, and he flees into accelerating his wedding plans with May, who before he met Ellen in his eyes stood for everything that was good and noble about their society, whereas now he begins to see her as a shell whose interior he is reluctant to explore for fear of finding merely a kind of serene emptiness there; a woman whose seemingly dull, passive innocence grinds down every bit of roughness he wants to maintain about himself and who, as he realizes even before marrying her, will likely bury him alive under his own future. Then his passion for Ellen is rekindled by a meeting a year and a half after his wedding, and an emotional conflict they could hardly bear when he was not yet married escalates even further. And only when it is too late for all three of them he finds out that his wife had far more insight (and almost ruthless cleverness) than he had ever credited her with.

Winner of the 1921 Pulitzer Prize and the first work of fiction written by a woman to be awarded that distinction, "The Age of Innocence" is one of Edith Wharton's most enduringly popular novels; the crown jewel among her subtly satirical descriptions of New York upper class society. By far not as overtly condemning and cynical as the earlier "House of Mirth" (for which Wharton reportedly even saw this later work as a sort of apology), "The Age of Innocence" is a masterpiece of characterization and social study alike: an intricate canvas painted by a master storyteller who knew the society which she described inside out, and who, even though she had moved to France (where she would continue living for the rest of her life) almost a decade earlier, was able to delineate late 19th century New York society's every nuance in pitch-perfect detail, while at the same time - seemingly without any effort at all - also blending together all these minute details into an impeccably composed ensemble that will stay with the reader long after he has turned the last page.

Also recommended:
Wharton: Four Novels (Library of America College Editions)
Edith Wharton: Vol 1. Collected Stories:1891-1910 (Library of America)
Edith Wharton: Vol.2 Collected Stories 1911-1937 (Library of America)
Henry James : Novels 1881-1886: Washington Square, The Portrait of a Lady, The Bostonians (Library of America)
Henry James: Novels 1901-1902: The Sacred Fount / The Wings of the Dove (Library of America)
Ethan Frome
The House of Mirth
Washington Square
The Portrait of a Lady
The Wings of the Dove
 
Relates to today ****
Even given the time in which it was written, Innocence still has relevance today. I wasn't sure if I was going to enjoy the book, but it is described as a classic and I'll give any book a try. To my surprise I enjoyed the book immensely. I did struggle with terminology that is no longer used today, but the over all themes of love and choosing between happiness and obligations/responsibility/public appearance are ones we can relate to in the present. For people today it may not necessarily be choosing between two women/men, but rather love and career and the resentment you might feel over choosing one over the other.
The book can make readers feel anger, but also understanding towards the male character. I would hope I would be my spouses Olenska and not his May.
 
Innocence versus imagination *****
Few will seek out a novel set in the New York of the 1870s about wealthy and titled characters who flit from opera box to their brownstone mansions in broughams and landaus, but having read and enjoyed House of Mirth I tried this and wasn't disappointed. Within a few pages I was hooked. This was going to be neither sycophantic homage to a bygone age nor a humourless historical novel. Outside the Academy of Music, for example, the narrative voice is not too snobbish to note that it "was one of the great livery-stableman's most masterly intuitions to have discovered that Americans want to get away from amusement even more quickly than they want to get to it." Edith Wharton's talent with words is evidenced on every page and bundled up in even the slightest phrases: Mrs Lovell Mingott is described as "a large blonde lady in creaking satin". We get a feel for both the physical world these characters inhabit ("creaking" is an evocative and surprising adjective) and the more complex inflexibilities of the social conventions and "tribal discipline" behind this woman's stiff character.

Fine words, of course, do not always add up to a fine novel. We need to care about the characters, especially those remote from our own experience. Wharton's characters themselves often fail to care for each other, but this draws you in, and involves you in shifting allegiances of sympathy and judgement. These are neither sentimental nor saccharine portraits, and Wharton's attention to the larger canvas often results in surprising and satisfying connections. Early in their relationship, Newland Archer sees May Welland as an innocent young woman whose eyes have yet to be opened. His mood varies from one of "tender reverence for her abysmal purity" to one of foreboding: "He shivered a little, remembering some of the new ideas in his scientific books, and the much-cited instance of the Kentucky cave-fish, which had ceased to develop eyes because they had no use for them. What if, when he had bidden May Welland to open hers, they could only look out blankly at blankness?" Even in his bicentenary year, few readers will get the reference to Darwin, which is where the notes at the back of this edition come in handy: apparently, these blind fish found in Kentucky's Mammoth cave were used to illustrate Darwin's theory of natural selection.

Such details and their sceptical texture are an important part of Newland Archer's intellectual and emotional landscape. He is restless, prone to radical thoughts - "Women ought to be as free as we are" - and he is reflective (conversation with one friend "always made Archer take the measure of his own life, and feel how little it contained"). He suggests to May that they might travel. "That would be lovely" is her reply. "His heart sank, for he saw that he was saying all the things that young men in the same situation were expected to say, and that she was making the answers that instinct and tradition taught her to make - even to the point of calling him original." Later, he wearies "of living in a perpetual tepid honeymoon, without the temperature of passion yet with all its exactions."

Archer sees artifice where others might see only loveliness. "Untrained human nature was not frank and innocent; it was full of the twists and defences of an instinctive guile." He wonders whether "May's face was doomed to thicken into the same middle-aged image of invincible innocence... he did not want May to have that kind of innocence, the innocence that seals the mind against imagination and the heart against experience!" No wonder he is drawn to the Countess Olenska...

In her excellent introduction to this edition, Cynthia Wolff describes Wharton looking back to her post-Civil War childhood in New York while writing this novel with her experience of World War I still fresh. Deeply affected and deeply impressed by the survival of France and the endurance of its people, Wharton concluded that they had preserved their sense of "larger meanings" and "understood life to be made up of... renunciation as well as satisfaction, of traditions as well as experiments, of dying as much as of living." In these times of climate change and financial profligacy, themes of renunciation and satisfaction are especially relevant. Indeed, there is much in the novel that resonates with our world: one character complains that "now we live in a constant rush"; another warns, "Think of the newspapers - their vileness!" There is a run on a bank that brings "social extinction" to the culprit's family: "Archer's New York tolerated hypocrisy in private relations; but in business matters it exacted a limpid and impeccable honesty."

In an interview, Wharton said that a tragedy with a happy ending "is exactly what the child wants before he goes to sleep... but as long as he needs it he remains a child, and the world he lives in is a nursery-world." She believed that personal happiness depended upon surrendering some personal gratification to the general good and on having a rewarding social role. Put simply, this sounds like a heretical inversion of the American Dream, a mandate for socialism. It takes a mature and intelligent novel to work through what she means, and to do justice to her resistance to those timeless and seductive desires for "absolute personal fulfillment" and "utter freedom". One irony is, you'll get a great deal of selfish pleasure from reading this - but like every classic novel it'll make you think more deeply about the wider world as well.
 
Last Generation? *****
The fabula of Age of Innocence is not really too intricate. Nor would it have avoided the cliche of an unhappy-marriage-in-high-society story had it not been for Wharthon's capability to capture in it the exact moment in the life of New York's cream when this kind of a relationship no longer had to be established but the main characters would not as yet have acquired the boldness to avoid it. The unique feature of Wharton's novel consists in the way she explores the generation gap between her protagonist's parents and grandparents in his ways of thinking in the first part, and the way she does the same in the protagonist's observations on his children in the second part. What lends the novel sublime quality is the assurance that the members of none of these generations had to necessarily "live their lives in lie" but rather in a different kind of truth that could be, and in the protagonist's case was, even more honorable than the many other "truths."
 
Where convention rules *****
The book begins with wit and irony, as Edith Wharton describes the small élite of New York society in the early 1870s. They lived within a whole series of well-understood conventions and assumptions which included nice and minute distinctions within the social hierarchy, a censorious and gossipy attitude towards any member of the set who strayed from what was expected of them in the manners, appropriate cultural interests, dress and furniture, and relations between the sexes. Those who were felt not to conform, such as the American-born Countess Olenska who had returned from Europe, leaving her husband and intending to divorce him, imperilled the reputation of their entire families. In that society, young unmarried women, in particular, were brought up in ignorance of the ways of the world, into which they were initiated only after their marriage. Until then, theirs was the age of innocence of the title.

That is the state in which May Welland was when she was engaged to Newland Archer. May Welland belonged to the same family as the Countess. They were cousins and the granddaughters of the powerful and wealthy matriarch, Mrs Mingott, a pivotal and superbly drawn character, both as to her personality and to her vast appearance. Newland was in a dilemma: he had really shared all the assumptions of his class; but now, to protect his fiancée, he felt he had both to defend the Countess and to dissuade her from going ahead with the divorce. The Countess is `unconventional' in other ways: she consorts with artists, who never mix with the social élite of New York, and she claims the right as a woman to live her own life. She is also very attractive, and Newland, in taking her side, not only finds himself unaccustomedly critical of the conventions in which he has been brought up, but falls in love with her, as she does with him. Then of course he wants her to divorce her husband so that they can marry, though he is engaged to May. The Countess thinks this impossible - perhaps out of loyalty to her cousin May (though this is not made explicit at the time); and Newland then does in fact feel bound to marry May, though he already feels the dread that he would be sucked into the conventional life which he was beginning to find stifling.

May's interests and attitudes indeed turned out to be much the same as those of the society into which she had been born (though she was no fool, understood more than her innocent air suggested, and knew how to use the coded language which said so much more than its surface would suggest). After a year and a half of marriage, Newland was just getting used again to the world in which he had after all also spent most of his earlier life, when the Countess Olenska reappeared in his life. Their love for each other has never died down, but they are no nearer to being able to make a life with each other: his code forbids divorce, and hers forbids the role of a mistress and the betrayal of other members of her family. And of the two, the enigmatic Countess is always the stronger and the saner one.

The strength of the tribe is irresistible, and it is brought out especially in the superlative description, both sardonic and touching, of the farewell dinner given, at May's insistence, in honour of the Countess' return to Europe.

A quarter of a century elapses between then and the last chapter of the book. This, too, is quite outstanding, describing not only how Newland`s family and public life had developed respectably in that time, but also what changes had come over New York society in the interval. Newland's son Dallas is so much less inhibited than his father had been; the stuffy mores of his father's generation have long passed away. In the brief portrayal of Dallas and of the relationship between him and his father Edith Wharton again shows herself as both a brilliant social historian as well as a sophisticated novelist.

 
Love, Loneliness, and the Strictures of Society. *****
Imagine living in a world where life is governed by intricate rituals; a world "balanced so precariously that its harmony [can] be shattered by a whisper" (Wharton); a world ruled by self-declared experts on form, propriety and family history - read: scandal -; where everything is labeled and yet, people are not; where in order not to disturb society's smooth surface nothing is ever expressed or even thought of directly, and where communication occurs almost exclusively by way of symbols, which are unknown to the outsider and, like any secret code, by their very encryption guarantee his or her permanent exclusion.

Such, in faithful imitation of Victorian England, was the society of late 19th century upper class New York. Into this society returns, after having grown up and lived all her adult life in Europe, American-born Countess Ellen Olenska, after leaving a cruel and uncaring husband. She already causes scandal by the mere manner of her return; but not knowing the secret rituals of the society she has entered, she quickly brings herself further into disrepute by receiving an unmarried man, by being seen in the company of a man only tolerated by virtue of his financial success and his marriage to the daughter of one of this society's most respected families, by arriving late to a dinner in which she has expressly been included to rectify a prior general snub, by leaving a drawing room conversation to instead join a gentleman sitting by himself - and worst of all, by openly contemplating divorce, which will most certainly open up a whole Pandora's box of "oddities" and "unpleasantness:" the strongest terms ever used to express moral disapproval in this particular social context. Soon Ellen, who hasn't seen such façades even in her husband's household, finds herself isolated and, wondering whether noone is ever interested in the truth, complains bitterly that "[t]he real loneliness here is living among all these kind people who only ask you to pretend."

Ellen finds a kindred soul in attorney Newland Archer, her cousin May Welland's fiancé, who secretly toys with a more liberal stance, while outwardly endorsing the value system of the society he lives in. Newland and Ellen fall in love - although not before he has advised her, on his employer's and May and Ellen's family's mandate, not to pursue her plans of divorce. As a result, Ellen becomes unreachable to him, and he flees into accelerating his wedding plans with May, who before he met Ellen in his eyes stood for everything that was good and noble about their society, whereas now he begins to see her as a shell whose interior he is reluctant to explore for fear of finding merely a kind of serene emptiness there; a woman whose seemingly dull, passive innocence grinds down every bit of roughness he wants to maintain about himself and who, as he realizes even before marrying her, will likely bury him alive under his own future. Then his passion for Ellen is rekindled by a meeting a year and a half after his wedding, and an emotional conflict they could hardly bear when he was not yet married escalates even further. And only when it is too late for all three of them he finds out that his wife had far more insight (and almost ruthless cleverness) than he had ever credited her with.

Winner of the 1921 Pulitzer Prize and the first work of fiction written by a woman to be awarded that distinction, "The Age of Innocence" is one of Edith Wharton's most enduringly popular novels; the crown jewel among her subtly satirical descriptions of New York upper class society. By far not as overtly condemning and cynical as the earlier "House of Mirth" (for which Wharton reportedly even saw this later work as a sort of apology), "The Age of Innocence" is a masterpiece of characterization and social study alike: an intricate canvas painted by a master storyteller who knew the society which she described inside out, and who, even though she had moved to France (where she would continue living for the rest of her life) almost a decade earlier, was able to delineate late 19th century New York society's every nuance in pitch-perfect detail, while at the same time - seemingly without any effort at all - also blending together all these minute details into an impeccably composed ensemble that will stay with the reader long after he has turned the last page.
 
Newland Archer, "a man to whom nothing was ever to happen." *****
Newland Archer, the protagonist of this ironically entitled novel set in the late nineteenth century, is a proper New York gentleman, and part of a society which adheres to strict social codes, subordinating all aspects of life to doing what is expected, which is synonymous with doing what it right. As the author remarks early in the novel, "Few things were more awful than an offense against Taste." Newland meets and marries May Welland, an unimaginative, shallow young woman whose upbringing has made her the perfect, inoffensive wife, one who knows how to behave and how to adhere to the "rules" of the society in which they live.

When Newland is reintroduced to May's cousin, Countess Ellen Olenska, who has left her husband in Europe and now wants a divorce, he finds himself utterly captivated by her freedom and her willingness to risk all, socially, by flouting convention. Both Ellen and Newland, however, are products of their upbringing and their culture, and they dutifully resist their feelings because of their separate social obligations. Various meetings between them suggest that their feelings are far stronger than what is obvious on the surface, and the question of whether either of them will finally state their feelings pervades the novel.

Wharton creates an exceptionally realistic picture of New York in the post-Civil War era, a time in which aristocrats of inherited wealth found themselves competing socially with parvenus, and social rules were changing. Her ability to show the conflict between a person's desire for freedom and his/her need for social acceptance is striking. As the various characters make their peace with their decisions--either to conform to or to challenge social dictates--the novel achieves an unusual dramatic tension, subtle because of its lack of direct confrontation and powerful in its effects on individual destinies. This is, in fact, less an "age of innocence" than it is an age of social manipulation.

Wharton herself manipulates the reader--her best dialogues are those in which the characters never actually participate--conversations that they keep to themselves, confrontations which they never allow themselves to have, and resolutions which happen through inaction rather than through decision-making. Filled with acute social observations, the novel shows individuals convincing themselves that obeying social dictates is the right thing to do. Though the novel sometimes seems to smother the reader with its limitations on action, Age of Innocence brilliantly captures the age and attitudes of the era. Mary Whipple

 
Wharton Puts Jane Austen To Shame *****
Wharton's story about taboo love and social mores in New York high society puts Jane Austen's quaint, fluffy world to shame. It is written in a prose that is exquisitely styled - fitting the period of the story - but has a richness and cunning that fully and ardently conveys all the intrigue, passion, and emotion of the story. Wharton's descriptions are unparalleled; her depiction of New York high society is absolutely enrapturing - it is a world that will live on in your imagination.
 
Totem and taboo in old New York. *****
The reading public must have been taken by shock when, in 1920, Wharton published this novel. Written off by most of the critics and audience of her time as having her best literary years far behind her, she produced what is arguably her most important work. Her story of New York City in the 1870s, where family name and propriety counted as much as accumulated wealth, resonated with readers who were just beginning to catch hints of the looming social revolution that would come later in the decade - and once again shatter time tested institutions. Wharton's looking back to the time of her youth (she was 57 when the book was published) is neither too sentimental nor too critical, but simply a fond remembrance of the time and place in which she lived and, like Madame Olenska, eventually escaped.

However, it is not with Madame Olenska but with Newland Archer that Wharton is closest associated. Belonging to similar social castes, both the author and Newland are able to see the foibles in their social milieu but in no way are ready to discard it totally. Whereas, in the end, both are ready to follow their individual paths from Old New York they are fully aware of what is expected of them as members of this society, and act accordingly. This is the central theme of the novel: individual desire vs. collective propriety. In the hands of a lesser author, this conflict could have resulted in a quite heavy and didactic work - and as interesting as an evening at a needlepoint demonstration. By clothing her novel in the time tested mantle of a love story, she is given rein to employ her talents to the fullest. In short, she re-creates the New York City of the 1870s and peoples it with characters that seem to be historical, not just based on historical models. The characters of Madame Olenska, Newland, May Welland and, especially, Mrs. Manson Mingott are wonderfully drawn and never become stereotyped nor trivialized; in fact, they are so lifelike that the reader (as if knowing them for years) is able to anticipate their thought patterns and actions. And of course, there is the city itself - before the Holland Tunnel, Grand Central Station, subways and telephone, where 39th Street was considered the hinterland. Wharton treats the city with affection as well as with the critical eye of the archaeologist attempting to reconstruct some long past civilization.

Especially fine is the final chapter in which Wharton (in less than twenty pages) summarizes the life of Newland from the time of his parting with Madame Olenska to his life in early twentieth century New York. The economy of her prose in this final chapter combined with her justaposition of sentimental reflection and historical fact are first rate. Particularly moving is the final scene in which the reader leaves Newland sitting on a bench outside of Madame Olenska's apartment in Paris unable (and unwilling) to abrogate both his loyalty to his now deceased wife, May, nor the unrequited love that he still has for Madame Olenska.

 
One of the best books I've read *****
I enjoyed every word of this book. It just captivated me. I'm glad Wharton chose the sentimental ending rather than going for the melodramatic.
 
Tension between individualism and confomity *****
Edith's book talks about the tension between following one's heart and loyalty to societal expectations. Case in point, Newland Archer.

Torn by his loyalty to his wife-to-be, who repesents tradition and stability of Old New York society and the soon-to-be divorce, who represents the worldly bohemian life of the Old World, namely European. Mr. Archer has a major dilemma since he's both has both progressive and conservative views. He has very progressive views on art, literature, politics, etc., while at the same time have conservative views on romance. It's the dilemma of most upper class and professional men even in these progressive and liberal times. Most men want stability in their lives, they want a "May Welland" type over the outspoken and unpredictable "Ellen Olenska".

Let me get back to the issue at hand, the choices of Newland Archer. Newland seemed to want to have it both ways. He wants to marry May and have Ellen as his secret lover. Knowing that New York society frowns on such things, Ellen decides to leave New York for Europe, therefore annul that possiblity. In the meantime, Newland became a devoted husband to May until her death.


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