Take a photo of a barcode or cover
3.92 AVERAGE
3.92 AVERAGE
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Love? Or money? You’ve read this story approximately 3,472 times before. But I encourage you to read it again.
Lily Bart, a Manhattan socialite at the beginning of the 20th century, must choose between love and money. It’s a seemingly tired plot, though truly it is not. Because nowadays the question is not love or money? The question is both please? in extra large quantities if possible? Somehow in the past hundred years, love and money have been concatenated. Simply consider recent trends: the greatest romance of the 2000s was that of Edward Cullen and Bella Swan, a romance that convinced many women to fight for it all—a man that can both capture your heart and wallpaper his 20,000 square foot mansion with dollar bills, if he so wishes. Love is money; money is love.
But for Lily Bart, that is not so. It is a choice, a crucial choice, and not as easy as any romantic would make you believe. The most interesting part of the love/money dichotomy has always been what these choices represent. Love is not just throbbing hearts and flushed cheeks; love is morality and goodness. And money is not just an estate on Long Island, a mansion in Newport, an apartment on Fifth Avenue, and a yacht harbored at Monte Carlo; money is corruption and superficiality.
So Lily is actually choosing who she wants to be. And for her, that’s incredible. The fact that this impulse to consider love in a marriage still remains is impressive since her parents tried to beat it from her brain with silk dresses and fifteen course luncheons galore. But Lily is a deeply frustrating character. Wharton thwarts her at every turn; whenever it seems that she might recover, that she might make a good decision, she is thrown back to the wolves, that is, the shallow and noxious New York socialites. Her struggle for love, faith, and freedom figures heavily on fascinating gender dynamics. As a woman, her choices are already constrained, but she admirably works as hard as she can against the opposing forces. She’s heroic but far from a hero.
Lily is brilliantly characterized, which is no surprise since Wharton’s greatest strengths seem to be characterization and writing. Her writing is dense, every word placed so carefully in order to complicate these characters (For instance, this description of a tertiary character: ...Young Silverton, who had meant to live on proof-reading and write an epic, and who now lived on his friends and had become critical of truffles and later, in a delightful dispatch of depressed youth, Ned Silverton was probably smoking the cigarette of young despair in his bedroom.) It’s hilariously pithy, especially about money: “I know there’s one thing vulgar about money, and that’s the thinking about it; and my wife would never have to demean herself in that way.” Wharton’s words require some sifting through, but they are beautiful.
Depending on interpretation, The House of Mirth answers, somewhat answers, and doesn’t answer the question of love or money. It’s romantic while being completely unromantic. If you read it, do tell me what you think of the ending. I still can’t decide what I think about it.
Lily Bart, a Manhattan socialite at the beginning of the 20th century, must choose between love and money. It’s a seemingly tired plot, though truly it is not. Because nowadays the question is not love or money? The question is both please? in extra large quantities if possible? Somehow in the past hundred years, love and money have been concatenated. Simply consider recent trends: the greatest romance of the 2000s was that of Edward Cullen and Bella Swan, a romance that convinced many women to fight for it all—a man that can both capture your heart and wallpaper his 20,000 square foot mansion with dollar bills, if he so wishes. Love is money; money is love.
But for Lily Bart, that is not so. It is a choice, a crucial choice, and not as easy as any romantic would make you believe. The most interesting part of the love/money dichotomy has always been what these choices represent. Love is not just throbbing hearts and flushed cheeks; love is morality and goodness. And money is not just an estate on Long Island, a mansion in Newport, an apartment on Fifth Avenue, and a yacht harbored at Monte Carlo; money is corruption and superficiality.
So Lily is actually choosing who she wants to be. And for her, that’s incredible. The fact that this impulse to consider love in a marriage still remains is impressive since her parents tried to beat it from her brain with silk dresses and fifteen course luncheons galore. But Lily is a deeply frustrating character. Wharton thwarts her at every turn; whenever it seems that she might recover, that she might make a good decision, she is thrown back to the wolves, that is, the shallow and noxious New York socialites. Her struggle for love, faith, and freedom figures heavily on fascinating gender dynamics. As a woman, her choices are already constrained, but she admirably works as hard as she can against the opposing forces. She’s heroic but far from a hero.
Lily is brilliantly characterized, which is no surprise since Wharton’s greatest strengths seem to be characterization and writing. Her writing is dense, every word placed so carefully in order to complicate these characters (For instance, this description of a tertiary character: ...Young Silverton, who had meant to live on proof-reading and write an epic, and who now lived on his friends and had become critical of truffles and later, in a delightful dispatch of depressed youth, Ned Silverton was probably smoking the cigarette of young despair in his bedroom.) It’s hilariously pithy, especially about money: “I know there’s one thing vulgar about money, and that’s the thinking about it; and my wife would never have to demean herself in that way.” Wharton’s words require some sifting through, but they are beautiful.
Depending on interpretation, The House of Mirth answers, somewhat answers, and doesn’t answer the question of love or money. It’s romantic while being completely unromantic. If you read it, do tell me what you think of the ending. I still can’t decide what I think about it.
3.5 Stars.
I'm not sure what I expected when I started this novel. I knew of Edith Wharton's literary merit, but I've only read her short fiction so this was a new journey. It took me a bit of time to process my feelings after I finished it.
Lily Bart is neither likable nor unlikable as a main character. She is flawed, but her weak qualities are forgivable as she clearly a product of her environment. Throughout the book, she shows her poor gambling skills and continues to take risks that don't pay off. I knew there were only two ways the novel could end, and I argued with myself all the way through which would happen and which I'd prefer. I was satisfied.
Many readers might find Lily to be relatable, as she must wear a mask among her friends and behave in the way she feels is expected of her. She's hardly honest with anyone, even herself. I would recommend to fans of classic literary fiction and realism set in the guilded age who can hang with a protagonist who has inexplicable charm and beauty but poor decision making skills.
I'm not sure what I expected when I started this novel. I knew of Edith Wharton's literary merit, but I've only read her short fiction so this was a new journey. It took me a bit of time to process my feelings after I finished it.
Lily Bart is neither likable nor unlikable as a main character. She is flawed, but her weak qualities are forgivable as she clearly a product of her environment. Throughout the book, she shows her poor gambling skills and continues to take risks that don't pay off. I knew there were only two ways the novel could end, and I argued with myself all the way through which would happen and which I'd prefer. I was satisfied.
Many readers might find Lily to be relatable, as she must wear a mask among her friends and behave in the way she feels is expected of her. She's hardly honest with anyone, even herself. I would recommend to fans of classic literary fiction and realism set in the guilded age who can hang with a protagonist who has inexplicable charm and beauty but poor decision making skills.
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
It was a slow start, but that second half of the book really got me. Looking back at the beginning of the story, I can see the importance of those scenes. It’s an important novel, even today.
Sorry, miss Wharton. I daresay we won’t be friends. This started off well and I was looking forward to a good book in the vein of Cold Comfort Farm. But no, I just got a not-too-likeable heroine and a medley of annoying, snobbish and forgettable characters. I doubt we shall meet again, miss.
challenging
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Wonderful classic! Great criticism on the structure of the elite society and social pressures.
Non fatevi ingannare dal titolo, perché di gioia ve ne è ben poca in questo libro.
Ogni pagina è una diretta critica alla superficialità della vita mondana dell’inizio 1900: una società in cui finché non si è coinvolti in prima persona, è meglio assecondare qualsiasi diceria che contrastarla. Una posizione sbagliata può infatti costare molto (se non tutto), per cui è necessario evitare una collocazione al di fuori di quella che chiamiamo buona società, sebbene solo chi sta dentro prende sul serio questa differenza.
L’obiettivo di una donna era sposarsi, e perfino una bellezza immortale e indimenticabile come quella di Miss Lily Bart incontra diverse difficoltà.
Lily è consapevole della sua bellezza e capacità più che adatte alla vita dell’alta società. Pur provenendo da una famiglia caduta in disgrazia, non è disposta ad abbandonare una vita lussuriosa. È per lei difficile cambiare stile di vita, quando si è stati cresciuti tra agi e lussi.
Cercare di mantenere una posizione così dinamica in uno stato tanto instabile, costerà Lily l’essere spesso usata come sotterfugio di relazioni extraconiugali, problemi sociali ed economici.
Ma se nei momenti migliori, Lily perde la lucidità, nei peggiori riesce ad assumere il controllo di sè, e questo le permette di rimettersi sempre in carreggiata.
Edith Wharton ci fa notare come non ci sia giustizia nella vita di nessuno, se non quella che noi stessi decretiamo. Ma cosa fare, quando l’unica cosa che resta è l’ennesimo compromesso con il destino pur di avere una fugace vittoria su se stessi?
Ogni pagina è una diretta critica alla superficialità della vita mondana dell’inizio 1900: una società in cui finché non si è coinvolti in prima persona, è meglio assecondare qualsiasi diceria che contrastarla. Una posizione sbagliata può infatti costare molto (se non tutto), per cui è necessario evitare una collocazione al di fuori di quella che chiamiamo buona società, sebbene solo chi sta dentro prende sul serio questa differenza.
L’obiettivo di una donna era sposarsi, e perfino una bellezza immortale e indimenticabile come quella di Miss Lily Bart incontra diverse difficoltà.
Lily è consapevole della sua bellezza e capacità più che adatte alla vita dell’alta società. Pur provenendo da una famiglia caduta in disgrazia, non è disposta ad abbandonare una vita lussuriosa. È per lei difficile cambiare stile di vita, quando si è stati cresciuti tra agi e lussi.
Cercare di mantenere una posizione così dinamica in uno stato tanto instabile, costerà Lily l’essere spesso usata come sotterfugio di relazioni extraconiugali, problemi sociali ed economici.
Ma se nei momenti migliori, Lily perde la lucidità, nei peggiori riesce ad assumere il controllo di sè, e questo le permette di rimettersi sempre in carreggiata.
Edith Wharton ci fa notare come non ci sia giustizia nella vita di nessuno, se non quella che noi stessi decretiamo. Ma cosa fare, quando l’unica cosa che resta è l’ennesimo compromesso con il destino pur di avere una fugace vittoria su se stessi?