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3.92 AVERAGE
3.92 AVERAGE
Aquí la videoreseña: https://youtu.be/rfCaN-cKRHc
4,5 estrellas.
En esta novela Edith Wharton realiza figuradamente, usando siempre un lenguaje muy educado, el acto de pillar un bate de béisbol y meterle una paliza a los miembros de las clases altas de Nueva York durante la llamada "Edad dorada". Pero paliza, paliza. De mandarlos a todos a la UVI. Supongo que nadie podía hacerlo mejor que ella, que sabía de lo que hablaba.
Edith Wharton es como Jane Austen, pero en americana y en más detallista y directa en su crítica. Es normal, 100 años (mínimo) las separan, y el realismo y el naturalismo habían influenciado la Literatura. Además, Edith Wharton escribe para (o es consciente de que puede ser leída por) un grupo más amplio de personas que Jane Austen, quien no esperaba que nadie fuera de su misma clase social leyera su obra, y por lo tanto hay mucho que no explica, porque quien la leía en la época ya sabía de lo que hablaba. Edith Wharton no. Edith Wharton te lo explica todo. TODO. Y en esa detallísima descripción de la clase alta, de lo que visten, lo que comen, dónde viven y, sobre todo, cómo actúan, es donde se desarrolla la historia de Lily Bart, una mujer que tal vez no sea la persona más inteligente del mundo siempre, pero que no es tonta, es perfectamente autoconsciente de su situación, quiere lo que quiere... pero le falta maldad. Lily Bart tiene demasiados escrúpulos para el mundo en el que se mueve. La verdad es que lo pasé mal al leer sus desventuras, porque Lily Bart me cae bien. Creo que es porque Edith Wharton explica muy bien dos conceptos que a día de hoy están muy presentes: el concepto de "pobreza relativa" y la depresión; la depresión causada por la ansiedad por no saber si vas a llegar a fin de mes. Me ha parecido fascinante cómo Edith Wharton aborda y describe estos dos temas.
En definitiva, un clásico que me ha encantado y que me alegro de haber leído. Y ojalá a Bertha Dorset mal dolor de tripa le entre, que cuanto más se mueva más le duela y si para reviente.
4,5 estrellas.
En esta novela Edith Wharton realiza figuradamente, usando siempre un lenguaje muy educado, el acto de pillar un bate de béisbol y meterle una paliza a los miembros de las clases altas de Nueva York durante la llamada "Edad dorada". Pero paliza, paliza. De mandarlos a todos a la UVI. Supongo que nadie podía hacerlo mejor que ella, que sabía de lo que hablaba.
Edith Wharton es como Jane Austen, pero en americana y en más detallista y directa en su crítica. Es normal, 100 años (mínimo) las separan, y el realismo y el naturalismo habían influenciado la Literatura. Además, Edith Wharton escribe para (o es consciente de que puede ser leída por) un grupo más amplio de personas que Jane Austen, quien no esperaba que nadie fuera de su misma clase social leyera su obra, y por lo tanto hay mucho que no explica, porque quien la leía en la época ya sabía de lo que hablaba. Edith Wharton no. Edith Wharton te lo explica todo. TODO. Y en esa detallísima descripción de la clase alta, de lo que visten, lo que comen, dónde viven y, sobre todo, cómo actúan, es donde se desarrolla la historia de Lily Bart, una mujer que tal vez no sea la persona más inteligente del mundo siempre, pero que no es tonta, es perfectamente autoconsciente de su situación, quiere lo que quiere... pero le falta maldad. Lily Bart tiene demasiados escrúpulos para el mundo en el que se mueve. La verdad es que lo pasé mal al leer sus desventuras, porque Lily Bart me cae bien. Creo que es porque Edith Wharton explica muy bien dos conceptos que a día de hoy están muy presentes: el concepto de "pobreza relativa" y la depresión; la depresión causada por la ansiedad por no saber si vas a llegar a fin de mes. Me ha parecido fascinante cómo Edith Wharton aborda y describe estos dos temas.
En definitiva, un clásico que me ha encantado y que me alegro de haber leído. Y ojalá a Bertha Dorset mal dolor de tripa le entre, que cuanto más se mueva más le duela y si para reviente.
I loved everything about this; the style, the language, the depth of each character, the plot etc etc. It even has my favourite quote ever, I discovered: "And for always getting what she wants in the long run, commend me to a nasty woman."
This book reminded me of when I used to tutor a particular 15-year-old boy. I'd arrive and he'd be snacking and watching this dreadful MTV reality show called “My Super Sweet Sixteen”. I used to spend a lot of time over there, so I caught enough bits and pieces of it to feel thoroughly revolted.
Those of you in the USA have probably seen it – it follows over-privileged kids as they organize and throw their lavish 16th birthday parties. But what I find scary about it aren't the 6-figure cars these kids get, but the sense of entitlement floating in the air. These children think that if they want something they will automatically get it – what's more, they think if they want something bad enough, that means they deserve it.
I remember standing there one day, waiting for my pupil to rinse his glass, and being overcome by a crushing feeling of pity. Because I really wanted to slap the kid on the TV, but at the same time I knew, with an overwhelming certainty, that this girl was never going to be truly happy, ever. Even if their parents could keep this up, this sort of entitled, shallow upbringing can only lead to frustration, one way or the other. What a waste of a perfectly good life.
I thought a lot about this moment while reading The House of Mirth. I felt sorry for Lily Bart, while hating her at the same time. I wanted to slap her, while knowing it wasn't her fault that she was the way she was. I wanted her to make up her mind, and at the same time dreaded every one of the options she had.
For make no mistakes – she does have options. A few of us at Bookish were discussing whether this was feminist literature or not. If feminist literature aims to portray women's lack of possibilities as constraining the female character, then this is not your average feminist book (I know, I know, but bear with me for a minute). Lily Bart does in fact have a few options to choose from, even though they would all entail some measure of dependence from other people. But none of these ever crystallize into anything tangible, because she won't make up her mind.
Wharton tries to imply that she's secretly an idealist, and she may be subconsciously sabotaging her own attempts at marrying money. But in fact, for most of the book she doesn't openly defy the system – mostly, she's just angry that she can't find a rich man to support her (she wants one, so she should have one, right?). Her moral scruples only show up when she's already put herself in a compromising position and she needs to save what little self-respect she has left. She is not an idealist, not in practice – she wants to work within the system.
Yet the very system of which she is a result has no place for her. She's a highly specialized product, an ornamental object, the Gilded Age in its most extreme expression - and as such, she's so profoundly dysfunctional she can't bring herself to make a choice for her future, because none of her options are even remotely acceptable. This world is so messed up, its own product can't function within it.
Watching Lilyshy away from at least 4 potential husbands, a few socialite patrons and even an opportunity for blackmail can get annoying after a while (“will you make up your mind already? I have stuff to do, you know?!”). But it also brings me back to my thoughts that day, watching “My Super Sweet Sixteen”. I vaguely thought that this world was f'd up if it was capable of creating such a monstrous thing as that over-entitled 16-year-old. This kid was the product of an environment that was condemning her, by effect of her upbringing, to be chronically dissatisfied for the rest of her life.
The world that Ms. Wharton portrays in her book is just as monstrous. And if it did this to people, and those people were mostly women, then by the FSM, this book serves its purpose, and it definitely is a feminist book.
Those of you in the USA have probably seen it – it follows over-privileged kids as they organize and throw their lavish 16th birthday parties. But what I find scary about it aren't the 6-figure cars these kids get, but the sense of entitlement floating in the air. These children think that if they want something they will automatically get it – what's more, they think if they want something bad enough, that means they deserve it.
I remember standing there one day, waiting for my pupil to rinse his glass, and being overcome by a crushing feeling of pity. Because I really wanted to slap the kid on the TV, but at the same time I knew, with an overwhelming certainty, that this girl was never going to be truly happy, ever. Even if their parents could keep this up, this sort of entitled, shallow upbringing can only lead to frustration, one way or the other. What a waste of a perfectly good life.
I thought a lot about this moment while reading The House of Mirth. I felt sorry for Lily Bart, while hating her at the same time. I wanted to slap her, while knowing it wasn't her fault that she was the way she was. I wanted her to make up her mind, and at the same time dreaded every one of the options she had.
For make no mistakes – she does have options. A few of us at Bookish were discussing whether this was feminist literature or not. If feminist literature aims to portray women's lack of possibilities as constraining the female character, then this is not your average feminist book (I know, I know, but bear with me for a minute). Lily Bart does in fact have a few options to choose from, even though they would all entail some measure of dependence from other people. But none of these ever crystallize into anything tangible, because she won't make up her mind.
Wharton tries to imply that she's secretly an idealist, and she may be subconsciously sabotaging her own attempts at marrying money. But in fact, for most of the book she doesn't openly defy the system – mostly, she's just angry that she can't find a rich man to support her (she wants one, so she should have one, right?). Her moral scruples only show up when she's already put herself in a compromising position and she needs to save what little self-respect she has left. She is not an idealist, not in practice – she wants to work within the system.
Yet the very system of which she is a result has no place for her. She's a highly specialized product, an ornamental object, the Gilded Age in its most extreme expression - and as such, she's so profoundly dysfunctional she can't bring herself to make a choice for her future, because none of her options are even remotely acceptable. This world is so messed up, its own product can't function within it.
Watching Lily
The world that Ms. Wharton portrays in her book is just as monstrous. And if it did this to people, and those people were mostly women, then by the FSM, this book serves its purpose, and it definitely is a feminist book.
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
fast-paced
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Edith Wharton has become one of my favorite authors, after discovering her books this year! I can't wait to read more!
emotional
reflective
tense
medium-paced
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Character portrait of a flawed young socialite in NYC's Gilded Age, which deftly lays bare the period's social machinations and the protagonist's psychology.
It's the end of a long and hectic semester and I just didn't appreciate this as much as I should have. Also, my class read it after an Austen novel, so I had an even harder time getting into it.
This book was full of exciting, Gossip Girl style machinations, and gave me a sense of what it would feel like not to be real. I read this at a difficult time and when I reached the ending I threw the book across the room as was furious. It's a good novel, though.
Honestly, up until the last few chapters this just wasn't really an interesting read for me.
This classic was recommended by a fellow book blogger, and I was curious by it, although not entirely convinced. So I listened to it as an audiobook during my Kindle Unlimited month.
House of Mirth tells the story of Lily Bart, a beautiful girl at the age of 29, who worries about her need to marry soon. To maintain her luxurious lifestyle she must marry rich. She isn’t old money, and is well-aware of the limits of freedom and choice of her sex, so her suit isn’t as easy as she thought.
Lily Bart is such an interesting character. She is beautiful, charming and smart – but she loses focus easily and doesn’t pursue her plans as carefully as she should. She’s also proud and won’t settle for anything but what she deserves. She’s so witty and I loved her, although I agonized every time she made a mistake of judgment.
It seemed to me as if House of Mirth is the cynical answer to Pride and Prejudice – a beautiful and smart girl pressured into getting married. Elizabeth Bennet ended up marrying a very rich man and loved him deeply. Lily wants the same end, but of course she can’t count on serendipity, and intends on making it true herself. A hint of Madame Bouvary and lots of bad luck, lost chances, bitterness and class divide.
A study of women’s lack of independence and a very interesting story, tied together by great writing and tragedy. I highly recommend it!
House of Mirth tells the story of Lily Bart, a beautiful girl at the age of 29, who worries about her need to marry soon. To maintain her luxurious lifestyle she must marry rich. She isn’t old money, and is well-aware of the limits of freedom and choice of her sex, so her suit isn’t as easy as she thought.
Lily Bart is such an interesting character. She is beautiful, charming and smart – but she loses focus easily and doesn’t pursue her plans as carefully as she should. She’s also proud and won’t settle for anything but what she deserves. She’s so witty and I loved her, although I agonized every time she made a mistake of judgment.
It seemed to me as if House of Mirth is the cynical answer to Pride and Prejudice – a beautiful and smart girl pressured into getting married. Elizabeth Bennet ended up marrying a very rich man and loved him deeply. Lily wants the same end, but of course she can’t count on serendipity, and intends on making it true herself. A hint of Madame Bouvary and lots of bad luck, lost chances, bitterness and class divide.
A study of women’s lack of independence and a very interesting story, tied together by great writing and tragedy. I highly recommend it!