The House of Mirth - Review
Jul. 27th, 2012 05:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
labingiWould that this book were not still so relevant. Sadly, Edith Wharton's 1905 novel of a woman brought low by her inability to win at the "social game" and unsuitability for anything else pretty much still describes modern society, albeit today the stakes are lower and rules liberalized. (For a modern, comic re-enactment in the same city, see Seinfeld: yes, it is because of society, George.)
This is the second Wharton novel I've read, the first being Ethan Frome, and I greatly admire both works. Wharton is a fantastic writer across the board: an excellent student of a human nature, a careful plotter and developer of character, a trenchant social critic, and a subtle artist with the English language. Her prose never calls attention to itself but always says exactly what it needs to with just the right touch of beautiful description and potent metaphor.
(Light spoilers follow.)
Some of the folks in my readers group decried this novel as a soap opera where everyone creates meaningless problems through silly social antics. This is true, of course; that's the point. But to suggest that Lily Bart's tale lacks pathos for this reason is, I think, to expect too much of human nature. Lily is partly the author of her own demise, yes. She persistently makes choices that fall short of the Machiavellian scheming she would need for total Eva Peron-like success, while failing to fully reject mendacious social shenanigans and surrender herself to a good, lonely, impoverished life, illuminated by personal integrity and genuine friend or two. But this just means she's human and shaped by her society and upbringing, and her psyche isn't perfect. Is mine? Is yours?
Wharton captures ably the complex relations between external injustices, internal weaknesses, and the way external pressures become internalized habits to show how readily a life can be destroyed. If this is not the experience of each of us, it is only by the grace of God. To answer the Beatles' question, this is where the lonely people come from. An excellent social critique.
This is the second Wharton novel I've read, the first being Ethan Frome, and I greatly admire both works. Wharton is a fantastic writer across the board: an excellent student of a human nature, a careful plotter and developer of character, a trenchant social critic, and a subtle artist with the English language. Her prose never calls attention to itself but always says exactly what it needs to with just the right touch of beautiful description and potent metaphor.
(Light spoilers follow.)
Some of the folks in my readers group decried this novel as a soap opera where everyone creates meaningless problems through silly social antics. This is true, of course; that's the point. But to suggest that Lily Bart's tale lacks pathos for this reason is, I think, to expect too much of human nature. Lily is partly the author of her own demise, yes. She persistently makes choices that fall short of the Machiavellian scheming she would need for total Eva Peron-like success, while failing to fully reject mendacious social shenanigans and surrender herself to a good, lonely, impoverished life, illuminated by personal integrity and genuine friend or two. But this just means she's human and shaped by her society and upbringing, and her psyche isn't perfect. Is mine? Is yours?
Wharton captures ably the complex relations between external injustices, internal weaknesses, and the way external pressures become internalized habits to show how readily a life can be destroyed. If this is not the experience of each of us, it is only by the grace of God. To answer the Beatles' question, this is where the lonely people come from. An excellent social critique.
