But I found the theme fascinating the moral, emotional and spiritual impossibility of Lily’s situation was expertly rendered by Wharton. “Society.” The decks are stacked and the results predictable. There’s no other way to characterize the story itself than as a downer, being as it is a tale of Woman vs. And I don’t think it’s giving away too much to point out that the last chapter utilizes a fateful and sudden change of heart to set up a tension that echoes one of Shakespeare’s best-known plays (although I recognize that Wharton’s resolution is distinct and interesting). Lily constantly chances upon the most opportune or importune character possible, and these coincidences telescope towards the end - Lily happens to walk by Selden’s house right when she can most benefit from seeing him, then runs into Nettie in the park. While this was not necessarily unrealistic, it added to the frustration of the reading experience.Īt other times there are various Shakespearean (and Dickensian) coincidences and contrivances to advance the plot. Like Dickens (and in film, Almodovar), most of the dramatic tension could have been resolved by one or two candid conversations. The book also shares qualities with some of the lesser aspects of classic literature.

Her characters exchange meaningful glances and innuendo by the dozen, and whereas in Tolstoy (and Stegner) I more or less dismissed the technique as an exaggerated sense of the epic, here I began to wonder for the first time if people really did interact more meaningfully a century ago if in the modern age we have just become such distracted simpletons that we can no longer imagine interpersonal communication with this level of subtlety. Wharton, like Tolstoy, employs heavy critique of upper class hypocrisy and superficiality, and she does it with a serious, inexorable rhythm and a lovely ear for language. Out of all the novels I’ve read it most closely resembles Tolstoy in tone and theme it was in many ways a condensed American version of Anna Karenina (see my review). Point being, just from a socio-historical perspective this was captivating and informative. I’ve also read plenty of Dickens and Tolstoy, which were a little earlier in time and in completely different countries. Mirth was the first book I’ve read from this era and setting, the closest approximations being Fitzgerald (same locale, a generation later) or Stegner (same generation, the other side of the country). I was simultaneously annoyed and engrossed, which was not only a unique reading experience but also, I imagine, sort of the point. Lily Bart is one of the most fickle and flighty protagonists I’ve ever encountered, but she and Wharton had me engaged for the entirety of the story. This was a frustrating, disappointing and depressing novel, which, strangely enough, is not to say it was bad or even unenjoyable.

The house of mirth review