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3.92 AVERAGE
3.92 AVERAGE
Started on the bus when I had nothing else of interest downloaded on my phone, and enjoyed much, much more than I expected! The protagonist makes decision after decision not in her best interest, at least materially, but that conform to her values and sense of the world. Anxiously on the edge of my seat up til the very end, and it did not disappoint.
One of the few books I read in my twenties and I loved that I loved again, in a very different way, now.
I very much enjoyed this classic of American literature. It was very readable and I was fascinated by Lily Bart and her privileged yet unfortunate life. However, I got a bit bogged down by all the characters and feel like I missed certain plot points in the first half when I was still getting my footing.
Overall I found the second half much stronger than the first for this reasonespecially the tragic ending that I was not expecting
Overall I found the second half much stronger than the first for this reason
Me encanta como escribe Wharton y The Age of Innocence fue una de mis lecturas favoritas del año pasado, pero en este momento no me da la cabeza ni me alcanza la paciencia para leer The House of Mirth, o clásicos en general. Comienzo de carrera nueva, cursada de cuatro materias en simultáneo, segunda ola de coronavirus... las palabras de Wharton son tan hermosas que necesito dedicarles tiempo, leerlas con tranquilidad, así que en otro momento será.
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
3 1/2 stars? I recently attended a lecture by Jennifer Egan that made me want to re-read this book. I feel like I'd appreciate it better with Egan's insight and given that I'm older and wiser now.
The House of Mirth> The Age of Innocence. The ending made it.
"Ah, there's the difference - a girl must [marry], a man may if he chooses." She surveyed him critically. "Your coat's a little shabby - but who cares? It doesn't keep people from asking you to dine. If I were shabby no one would have me: a woman is asked out as much for her clothes as for herself. The clothes are the background, the frame, if you like: they don't make success, but they are a part of it. Who wants a dingy woman? We are expected to be pretty and well-dressed till we drop - and if we can't keep it up alone, we have to go into partnership."
So begins the harrowing tale of Lily Bart, a young (but not so young) woman living above her means because she has been bred to, who is ultimately - and fatefully - made a victim of circumstances no matter how desperately she attempts to claw her way back to the highest rung on the societal ladder. Lily is an intriguing character because she falls into disrepute and eventual tragedy, yes, partly as a result of her own naivety but also because of the pervasiveness of class and gender restrictions in the early twentieth century and the ruthlessness of high society, which, in a cruel twist of irony, sustains her as much as it wrings the life from her entirely.
As is the case with many classic works, at times, I found myself struggling to unpack the prose and relate to the characters' experiences, but I became far more immersed in the world of the book as it progressed, and the emotional impact of Wharton's unflinching depiction of women's experiences during the period is undeniable. While I found the first half of the book to be reasonably entertaining, I grew a bit tired of the endless exploits of the wealthy and glamorous and, for this reason, much preferred the latter portion, despite (or perhaps because of) its increasing bleakness. I'm still not sure how I feel about the ending, which may have been a little too crushingly hopeless even for my tastes, but, overall, Wharton's command of her themes and characters is admirable and the rapid deterioration of Lily Bart's societal stock and self-purpose all too terrifyingly real.
So begins the harrowing tale of Lily Bart, a young (but not so young) woman living above her means because she has been bred to, who is ultimately - and fatefully - made a victim of circumstances no matter how desperately she attempts to claw her way back to the highest rung on the societal ladder. Lily is an intriguing character because she falls into disrepute and eventual tragedy, yes, partly as a result of her own naivety but also because of the pervasiveness of class and gender restrictions in the early twentieth century and the ruthlessness of high society, which, in a cruel twist of irony, sustains her as much as it wrings the life from her entirely.
As is the case with many classic works, at times, I found myself struggling to unpack the prose and relate to the characters' experiences, but I became far more immersed in the world of the book as it progressed, and the emotional impact of Wharton's unflinching depiction of women's experiences during the period is undeniable. While I found the first half of the book to be reasonably entertaining, I grew a bit tired of the endless exploits of the wealthy and glamorous and, for this reason, much preferred the latter portion, despite (or perhaps because of) its increasing bleakness. I'm still not sure how I feel about the ending, which may have been a little too crushingly hopeless even for my tastes, but, overall, Wharton's command of her themes and characters is admirable and the rapid deterioration of Lily Bart's societal stock and self-purpose all too terrifyingly real.