Edith Wharton Books

Eighteenth century American "high" society is shown in this subtly uncomfortable, at times merciless novel by Wharton. It explores the unwanted, inevitable, but, in the end, understandable change that occured within a young man on the verge of being married.

On the onset, everything seemed headed for bliss: perfect fiancee, stable prospects, and a comfortable yet predictable soon-to-be married life. But then he meets the Countess Olenska, cousin of his betrothed. This epitome of eccentricity (and source of ignominy of her relatives) becomes strangely alluring to him, what with her unconventional looks, manner of dressing, chosen companions, and overall lifestyle.

As his interactions with her become more frequent, he finds his fiancee somehow paling in comparison next to the vibrancy of the Countess. He becomes disdainful of the ridiculousness with which young men and women are brought up into their glittering society, and who will no doubt foster the same beliefs and traditions to their sons and daughters. As his life and everything he was taught at birth ostensibly comes crashing down upon him, he discovers his attraction to the Countess grow into passionate love. But these two lovers are mired into a world that would shun their relationship: the Countess at the very least is still very much married, and Archer is still very much engaged to be so...

This novel is a veritable force to be reckoned with (though it was tough gaining momentum on the first few pages). Not only does it explore the many intricacies in romantic love, it sheds a blinding light on the ways society draws its defenses around itself, constructs rules and traditions to be followed for the continuation of its existence, and in turn drowns out the very foundations of reason. There is subtlety in the way the author exposed a society so caught up in the world they have built around itself that it becomes blind to change and is still, in so many ways, innocent in its need to keep itself closeted from things both severely chaotic and beautiful that make up the inherent human experience.

This was one and still remains one of my favorite books from college. If you've seen the movie you might be misled into thinking this is a romance, which it's not, as most respectable English teachers would be quick to tell you. However, the truth be told is that it actually does work on a romance level too if that's what one is looking for. Wharton's descriptions bloom like spring flowers, and her understanding of how the young feel when they are in love is dead-on accurate.

More than a romance, I would call it one of those truly literary works as its themes, which mainly have to do with class hierarchy and its ridiculously arbitrary rules, are so meticulously and carefully developed that the theme, story, and characters truly become a seamless whole.

Wharton is truly one of the 20th century writers, and I expect her light to continue to shine brighter as the years go by. I'd also like to add that House of Mirth is another spectacular book that is far better than the movie (not that I've minded any of Wharton's movie adaptations--they are better than most.) So for crafty storytelling, beautiful imagery, and an eye for subtle satire you've come to the right author.

Edith Wharton escapes from a tendency to melodrama (a problem of her era) to create her masterpiece novel "Age of Innocence." Set in post-Civil War New York, she deliniates the mores and customs of the New York Social List with care and depth.

Newland Archer is the protagonist, a true Greek tragic hero with a flaw. While Newland is a most upright, conventional young man, he harbors an urge to be artistic and "different" while taking a course through his life on a well-trodden path. He chooses May Welland as his bride, whose family is almost frozen by a rigid devotion to social custom; Mr. Welland, Newland soon realizes, has been made almost a cipher by the strictures imposed by his limited but socially conscious wife. May is likewise limited (Newland thinks about lifting the blinders that her upbringing has imposed on her and in a moment of perception, wonders if she has lost any ability to see beyond her limited horizons like the blind fish dwelling in caverns.) But he marries her nonetheless, admiring her silent ability to communicate subtle wishes and opinions by a single knowing glance. Later, this will come back to haunt him as he doesn't realize that what is pleasant when it conforms to his wishes, is restrictive and oppressive when it doesn't.

Meanwhile, May's cousin "poor Ellen" or Countess Olenska, returns from Europe after fleeing a poorly-arranged marriage with a dissolute Polish count. Her name is clever: the pedestrian "Ellen" contrasts almost comically with the pompous "Countess Olenska." As a contrast, Newland's spinsterish, horse-faced sister Janey shows the non-glamourous side of New York femininity, while Medora Manson, Ellen's aunt is a comic foil and a fun-house mirror to Ellen, much-married, and her real name is Chivers but she styles herself "The Marchioness Manson" as Manson can be transmuted to "Manzoni" in Italy. She flits between Europe and North America, married too many times and descending into eccentricity and poverty--a harbinger of what Ellen is heading towards.

Newland falls in love with Ellen, and she with him, but the paths they choose in living their lives lead them inexorably to loss and tragedy; but could any other choices have given them any more happiness?

Newland is tragic because he yearns for freedom and artistic expression but stays in his rut; this makes him in his own eyes a dilletante. When finally he has a chance to acquire his life's desire, he, at mid-fifties, gives it up. Is his last action in the book a renunciation of desire? Or is it a realization that his dreams are more real than what he can ever achieve for himself in the life he has chosen to live? I think the latter.

This is one of America's great novels and Wharton's masterpiece, in my opinion. I always look forward to re-reading it.

I don't read books twice, at least not often. This is one of the few and the only one if you omit children's books! It is a book that struck deep into my heart and made me re-read passages just to marvel at the prose, the wisdom, and the simple elegance of Edith Wharton's narrative of the human condition. I literally wept as the sad tale of impossible love unfolds. It is a credit to Wharton's writing that her characters press onward and take their defeat with grace and class, therein making this bittersweet novel more honest, both intellectually as well as romantically.
I can not say that you will like this, although if you have read Ethan Frome, you will be familiar with the gift Wharton has for skipping the sugar-coating and allowing the reader some credit. This is one of only a handful of novels that have moved me on a deep level. That may not mean much to you, but it means a lot to me.

This story about the turn of the last century and the old-fashioned protagonist, Archer Newland, is queerly both outdated in most or all aspects and yet capable of being read by many future generations of readers.

Just about everything in this book has little to do with our present day lives - before electricity, before phones, before either world war, and set amid the upper crust New York society made up of persons (even those of the Mingotts who dwell up by that "park" near that art museum of the future) who babble and gossip among and about themselves - for better and for worse.

The heroine, Madame (Ellen) Olenska, shakes their pedigree tree when she and her European-reared mannerisms cajole easily and deftly with the suspicious and tightly-cliqued New York wealth. By always doing the right thing, she eventually shatters Archer's life - or does she? Her character personifies the coined term, "Do the right thing."

Because this script is penned by a woman's hand, it uniquely depicts the male perspective in an extremely accurate tone. Wharton's soft message against the not-as-soft strictures of elitist northeastern society can be read with double entendre: as Wharton is one of those she criticizes with glove hands and boiled-noodle whips.

A constant theme in this book is high class society's hypocrisy. And, one discussion between Archer and his law partner about women's rights -- most specifically Madame Olenska's attempt to exercise (what was then) exclusively male rights -- beautifully depicts how his liberal opinions jibe with his personal life -- one strewn in old fashioned and high browed morals. The greatest hypocrisy almost floors the reader with an ending which evidences Archer's decisions to be, as self-described, "old fashioned."

The topic is much like Fitzgerald's "Great Gatsby." However, comparisons of the authors must end soon thereafter. Their writing style is different and so are their books' respective messages - or at least the tone in which the messages are delivered. I prefer the midwesterner's style over the northeasterner's prose, but to each their own. This writer reminds me more of the her British contemporaries: Forster, Waugh or Murdoch. In any event, Wharton is a master, and has a handful of great novels from which any reader should be lucky enough to have time to read.

For general readers Wharton has constructed a book that is everything the other reviewers here claim for it regarding their enjoyment of it.

For a writer, as in my case, I needed more than entertainment.

I read Age of Innocence as a source of information on the era Wharton knew so well - Old New York and Newport in the Gilded Age. For that purpose I found it outstanding indeed. But Wharton's selection of characters and the plot suggested a lot more reading would be valuable. I started with her latest biography by Herminone Lee, a striking work in itself. (Knopf, 2007.) I recommend it to anyone interested in Wharton. This aroused curiosity as to the extent Wharton's life may have contributed to her selection of material and her dark brown treatment of it. She always seems to be trying to get even with someone, as Louis Auchincloss has observed as well. He is must reading on Wharton. Curious on that point, I ended up reading at least two dozen books that I would not normally read, such as Henry James, parts of Balzac, another reading of Madame Bovary, even Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, which I thought was more soundly written than Age of Innocence. It certainly was a lot happier book.

I was disturbed by Age of Innocence, especially it's conclusion. Other professional writers have told me of a similar reaction. One, a lady friend of my wife's, who is a highly successful writer of mysteries, said, "When I got to the end I simply screamed!" Figuratively, so did I.

Tastes in books are obviously subjective. I tend to history and biography. Neither I, nor anyone else, is qualified to criticize Wharton simply based on individual taste. But there is a fair basis of more objectively considering her work: her own book about how to write novels and short stories. After reading Age, I was surprised to find that, as a writer, I agree with almost everything Wharton wrote about the subject. She doesn't follow her own views in any of her writing that I have read and I have read a lot of it recently.

Wharton and I agree on the first principle of all good writing: "Write only about what you know about." Next in importance, and of equal weight are: (1) know your characters thoroughly (2) keep characters in character (3) after that turn them loose and let them write the plot in interaction with each other and don't meddle. This was Mailer's approach, but there are striking contrasts in approach that produced sterling writing, such as Steinbeck (his Winter of Our Discontent is a masterpiece of plotting). (4) avoid contrived situations which always involve unsound motivation (an annoying offense that almost every reader will catch, since people are basically logical). There are many more good rules to follow, such as avoiding Acts of God (the Deus ex Machina of Greek drama.) Instead let the characters get into their own scrapes due to their own limitations and out by their own ingenuity. If she had not ignored her own rules and allowed her two main characters to step out of character, Age would have demanded a different ending.

Therefore, judged by herself, I think Age of Innocence and many other of her works flunk the course.

Although I had read this earlier, and seen the sumptious Martin Scorsese film, knowing beforehand what happens so well, let me linger over the many exquisite passages. Such a beautifully written novel. And, I hope, the saddest one I shall ever read. Choices made, society's demands adhered to. Newland Archer, what a tragic figure. This is a must-read for anyone who cares about good literature. And a great history of early New York upper crust society.

While I read this book as a requirement for a class I am taking, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the story which unfolded was poignant, riveting and full of twists and turns that kept me interested. It took a couple of chapters to get into the book because of the 19th century language but once beyond that, the story and its moral left an impression of life and duty as it should be lived, not as we dream it can be.

Nobody knew the hypocrises of "old New York" better than Edith Wharton, and nobody portrayed them as well. In "The Age of Innocence," Wharton took readers on a trip through the stuffy upper crust of 1870s New York, wrapped up in a hopeless love affair.

Newland Archer, of a wealthy old New York family, has become engaged to pretty, naive May. But as he tries to get their wedding date moved up, he becomes acquainted with May's exotic cousin, Countess Olenska, who has returned home after dumping her cheating count husband. At first, the two are friends, but then they become something more.

After Newland marries May, the attraction to the mysterious Countess and her free, unconventional life becomes even stronger. He starts to rebel in little ways, but he's still mired in a 100% conventional marriage, job and life. Will he become an outcast and go away with the beautiful countess, or will he stick with May and a safe, dull life?

There's nothing too scandalous about "Age of Innocence" in a time when J.Lo acquires and discards boyfriends and husbands like old pantyhose. Probably it wasn't in the 1920s, when the book was first published. But this isn't a book to read if you appreciate sexiness and steam -- instead it's a social satire, a bittersweet romance, and a look at what happens when human beings lose all spontaneity and passion.

Wharton brings old New York to life in this book -- opulent, beautiful, cultured, yet empty and kind of boring. It is "where the real thing was never said or done or even thought," so tied up in tradition that nobody there really lives. And even though the unattainable countess is beautiful and sweet, it becomes obvious after awhile that Newland is actually in love with the idea of breaking out of his conventional life.

Wharton's writing is a bit like a giant rosebud -- it takes forever to fully open. So don't be discouraged by the endless conversations about flowers, ballrooms and gloves. Wharton put them in to illustrate her point about New York at that time, and all the stories about different families, scandals and customs are actually very important.

Newland seems like a rather boring person, since he only has brief bursts of individuality. But he gets more interesting when he struggles between his conscience and his longing for freedom. May is (suitably) pallid and a bit dull, while the Countess is alluringly mysterious and unconsciously rebellious. The fact that she doesn't TRY to rebel makes her far more interesting than Newland.

"Age of Innocence" considered a story about a man in love with an unattainable woman, but it's also about that man straining against a stagnant, hypocritical society. Rich, intriguing and beautifully written.

I bought this book to help me with a school project that involved identifying about fifty different literary devices in a novel. It offered thorough definitions and examples of everything I needed. I will cherish it as an English major.

This book is a must for grad students and advanced undergrads interested in literary studies -- I highly recommend it! It's better priced than other comparable books & better written.

Yes, this is an excellent glossary of terms. It is also much more. Within these 420 pages, the authors have taken time and space to explore in depth the significance of varied approaches to literary analysis and scholarship.

The confusing and politicized nature of 20th Century literary criticism is served well in Murphin & Ray's clear and even-handed explication of various schools and styles. I think that new initiates to literary studies will appreciate the lengthy analyses given to critical schools/styles ( from aestheticism and close reading... to new historicism and 'theory' ). I find that this humbly titled "glossary" offers clearer and fairer insights into of these stormy academic seas that most books claiming "Intro to Criticism" in their titles.

This is a great reference volume for literature students. My only disappointment was the lack of references, and of suggestions for reading in more depth (other than in-passing mention of authors' names and occasional book titles), but that of course would have taken this volume further beyond the class of mere "glossary".

Still, in summary: indispensable - unsurpassed!

This glossary is one of the best I have seen, combining both exhaustive and detailed enteries as well as a wide range of coverage. Literary periods from Old English to the Postmodern are discussed in detail - the article on postmodernism is almost six pages. Critical approaches such as structralism and postcolonialism are lucidly presented. Literary trends and tropes are explained with illustrative examples. Crossrefrencing is particularly very useful. All this makes this glossary a good study aid for both literary students and scholars.

I was surprised to receive this very thin, small novel, but within those 175 pages, Edith Wharton has woven a supremely delicate and beautiful tale. If you're looking to be taken away to another place and another time - but only have a few hours - this is the book for you! Anita Shreve's introduction is equally impressive.

Edith Wharton filled her novels with a feeling of ruin, passion and restriction. People can fall in love, but rarely do things turn out well.

But but few of even her books can evoke the feeling of "Ethan Frome," whick packs plenty of emotion, vibrancy and regrets into a short novella. While the claustrophobic feeling doesn't suit her writing well, she still spins a beautiful, horrifying story of a man facing a life without hope or joy.

It begins nearly a quarter of a century after the events of the novel, with an unnamed narrator watching middle-aged, crippled Ethan Frome drag himself to the post-office. He becomes interested in Frome's tragic past, and hears out his story.

Ethan Frome once hoped to live an urban, educated life, but ended up trapped in a bleak New England town with a hypochondriac wife, Zeena, whom he didn't love. But then his wife's cousin Mattie arrives, a bright young girl who understands Ethan far better than his wife ever tried to. Unsurprisingly, he begins to fall in love with her, but still feels an obligation to his wife.

But then Zeena threatens to send Mattie away and hire a new housekeeper, threatening the one bright spot in Ethan's dour life. Now Ethan must either rebel against the morals and strictures of his small village, or live out his life lonely. But when he and Mattie try for a third option, their affair ends in tragedy.

Wharton was always at her best when she wrote about society's strictures, morals, and love that defies that. But rather than the opulent backdrop of wealthy New York, here the setting is a bleak, snowy New England town, appropriately named Starkfield. It's a good reflection of Ethan Frome's life, and a good illustration of how the poor can be trapped.

Even when she describes a "ruin of a man" in a cold, distant town, Wharton spins beautiful prose ("the night was so transparent that the white house-fronts between the elms looked gray against the snow") and eloquent symbolism, like the shattered pickle dish. There's only minimal dialogue -- most of what the characters think and feel is kept inside.

Instead she piles on the atmosphere, and increases the tension between the three main characters, as attraction and responsibility pull Ethan in two directions. It all finally climaxes in the disaster hinted at in the first chapter, which is as beautifully written and wistful as it is tragic.

If the book has a flaw, it's the incredibly small cast -- mainly just the main love triangle. Ethan's not a strong or decisive man, but his desperation and loneliness are absolutely heartbreaking, as well as his final fate. Mattie seems more like a symbol of the life he wants that a full-fledged person, and Zeena is annoying and whiny up until the end, when we see a different side of her personality. Not a stereotypical shrew.

"Ethan Frome" is a true tragedy -- as beautifully written as it is, it's still Wharton's description of how a man merely survives instead of living, hopeless and devastated.

The Romeo and Juliet of its time, Ethan Frome is a suspenseful story about a man shackled by marriage to the lady of his nightmares, and when he finds the love of his dreams he is torn to shreds by what he should do and what he needs to do. An excerpt from the story that best summarizes his predicament is "With the sudden perception of the point to which his madness had carried him, the madness fell and he saw his life before him as it was. He was a poor man, the husband of a sickly woman, whom his desertion would leave alone and destitute; and even if he had the heart to desert her he could have done so only by deceiving two kindly people who had pitied him." As you can see the story has an intricately designed plot that keeps you wondering until the end.

Aristocratic New York woman residing in Paris writes about impoverished New England man's demise in love - a formula which few would encourage today, and certainly was a misanthropic venture in 1911 when this book was published.

But, Wharton excels in her delivery. The dialogue incorporates much of the Massachusetts' accent. The description of the countryside: magnificent. "On a road I had never traveled, we am to an orchard of starved apple trees writhing over a hillside among outcroppings of slate that nuzzled up through the snow like animals pushing out their noses to breath." And, the story - Bronte meets Sterling. Depressing, grey as the winter weather, and as cold as a Massachusetts' December.

Zeena, originally thought to be named Zenobia, is Ethan Frome's wife from hell. They live in the aptly named town of Starkfield. Zeena, ill and nagging, haunts Ethan as her querulous droning echoes in his psyche, whether he be in the home listening or safely outside working in the farm. Zeena's niece, Mattie or Matt, comes to aid her ailing aunt. And, without any appreciation, she does her chores.

Frome's exclusive enjoyment is seeing Mattie's face each morning - so much does he like this that he commences shaving every morning to look right for her. The amorous affection is not a one-way road. Each becomes increasingly more entranced by the other. And, when Zeena leaves for an overnight stay at a doctor's, opportunity knocks.

But, this is Wharton and written about people in puritanical Massachusetts in the late 19th century - much of the book is reminiscing in 1911 about what transpired 20 years earlier. Illicit love is the forbidden fruit. Contract or arranged marriages delivered sexual pleasure, not love of the heart. Wharton's characters often are prisoners of their societal marriages - Ethan Frome being worse than others as he also lacks any societal privileges or money. True love is doomed too often in Wharton's books: Selden in "House of Mirth", Newland Archer in "Age of Innocence" and Ralph Marvell in "The Custom of the Country" lead similar demises.

The ending is tremendously depressing. I will not detail what transpired, as that would be unfair to readers of this review. But, its twist is what reminds me of Sterling or O'Henry. It was both alarming, and perfect.

Ethan Frome may be one of the most depressing pieces of literature. Zeena, while not as economically written as Frome, is a beautifully written counterpart (one that also stands on its own.) Edith Wharton leaves us with a depressing view of Wife. Elizabeth Cooke gives us Zeena's story, the events that made her bitter and strong, and a way out of that bitterness. Winter is cold, but spring always comes. Everyone who reads Ethan Frome should read Zeena. Anyone who simply wants a very readable story of love, responsibility and building a life should read Zeena. Wharton's book is not a pre-requisite.

This book did a wonderful job of exploring the character of Zeena. This book, even though it draws from an earlier work, is one of the more original books that I've read in a long while.

The characters came alive in this story, and Elizabeth Cooke told it wonderfully. I just wish it was longer.

Trying to spin a tale from a classic cannot be an easy feat, but this story really captured me. For anyone who liked Ethan Frome, this book is for you. A carefully weaved story with characters that are as real as they get.

If you are interested in Edith Wharton, her novels, her friends, her influences, and the Gilded Age that she wrote about, then this Encyclopedia is a wonderful resource for you.

I refer to this Encyclopedia so often, that my copy has begun to get completely worn-out!

The photos in this book are in black and white, but that is actually fine with me, because as I see it, most Encyclopedia's photos are in black and white anyhow (eg: Brittania).

This Wharton Encyclopedia also cross-references well.
And on top of this, included in this Encyclopedia is a wonderful Bibliography.

As you can see by the various Sellers' listings, this is not an expensive Encyclopedia. Personally, I feel that this book is worth much more than the going rate.

Worth the money, for sure!

This book was a great help in writing my 10 page research paper on Edith Wharton. I really could not have done it without it! It was a great basic biography, and also offered critical views, which was great. However, buy a used copy. $55 is a little expensive for a book. I bought used and it was nearly new. Highly recommended!!

This book is amazing! It is a Wharton fan's dream! I was kindly sent this book by my dear friend in America and it has proved invaluable. As an English student, I will be writing my dissertation on the life and major works of this fantastic author, and this is exactly the kind of publication that will make the whole process not only easier, but enjoyable!

This is an excellent guide for Wharton fans and scholars alike. It comes with my full reccomendation! Whether reading for pleasure or for academic purposes, it is a remarkable book.

This is an excellent novel! I was immediately engaged in Fiona's story. Miller successfully blends the world of back-stabbing academia with Edith Wharton's biographical tale. I found myself riveted by both stories and the Tarot readings are simply delightful. I have already given copies to my friends and relatives--makes a great graduation gift!

This is an excellent novel! I was immediately engaged in Fiona's story. Miller successfully blends the world of back-stabbing academia with Edith Wharton's biographical tale. I found myself riveted by both stories and the Tarot readings are simply delightful. I have already given copies to my friends and relatives--makes a great graduation gift!

Not only is The Fool's Journey a delightful read, it isalso wonderfully constructed--the mixing of Edith Wharton and Fiona's story works well.
The book is wise about the vagaries of academic life. It is an absorbing and invigorating read that says so much, so well, about how to make the journey from academic enmeshment to autonomy. And it says it without becoming didactic or simplistic--instead, it is a witty, tender and insightful account.
I'm already recommending this to all my women colleagues.

This shockingly modern novel ranks among Mrs. Wharton's finest. Hard to imagine EW in the roaring twenties? She writes with the same personal grace and sly eye for the details behind the facade when focusing upon the moderns as when drawing the old New Yorkers. Those fading, listless aristocrats are included here as contrasts for the self-obsessed, alienated and narcissistic flappers. The novel resonates with modern themes, unfinished American themes; it may be the Jazz Age, but it is as now as anything I've ever read. It is also a gripping page turner- with characters at odds with the fates and the customs of society- as unforgettable as Lilly Bart's sipping of laudanum in House of Mirth and the farewell dinner for Countess Olenska in Age of Innocence.
Those uniquely Wharton flourishes abound; the sumptuous dinners with the invisible calculus of seating assignments, shifting winds of wars with reality and passion, all carried out in black boudoirs, silver crusted serving plates and overseen by women draped in jewels. Within it all the people suffer against an atavistic demon hell bent on tearing their refinement and their highly ritualized world to shreds. It is all here- within this fortunate reissue. If you are a fan of Wharton, I guarantee you will devour this book. Edith Wharton's novels are national treasures- and this one is one of her finest.

Whenever I come across a novel by Edith Wharton, I know that it is only a matter of time before I read it. I look forward to the entertainment of visiting an exotic culture--the high society that Wharton inhabited. And I also expect to find an insightful portrayal of the human foibles that are not constrained by time and social class.

Edith Wharton was both a master of the English language and a keen observer of human nature. I sometimes stumble upon a phrase that is so sharply honed that I pause to think, "Wow! That's perfect!" Such was the case in TWILIGHT SLEEP, which holds up well to Wharton's better known novels.

In this story, the members of an extended family pursue all manner of diversions, fads, and fantasies to compensate for their inability to fully embrace life. There are some archaic attitudes and politically incorrect references, but on the whole, I was amazed at how contemporary the book felt. Although written and set in the 1920s, there are modern parallels to nearly every indulgence explored by the book's characters. In many ways, little has changed!

Pauline Manford, the matriarch who links the characters together, is an archetypical American in this affectionate satire. She's an optimistic, energetic but hopelessly simplistic meddler. Her daughter Nona, however, is thoughtful and perceptive. Like other Wharton heroines, Nona sees through many of her society's standards but can't bring herself to break free of them.

I could sense the plot accelerating toward a tragedy or at least a confrontation, so surprisingly, the book became quite a page-turner. Thanks to Scribner to bringing this and other out-of-print Edith Wharton works to my attention.

Wharton is as stunningly effective as in "A House of Mirth", here conveying the frustration of a circle of people interdependent upon one another, destined to follow society's rules no matter what the cost. Each character desperately clutches at a "twilight sleep"; the mode of coping each engages to distance reality. Masquerading as habit or whim, the painted veil of illusion overlays each mode of addictive escape. Nona, the beautiful, well-bred New Yorker struggles with an imperatrix sister-in-law Lita, whose values (and their consequences) threaten the entire social order Nona's family fabric is woven of. The Marchesa dispenses her social value as Pauline erases her son's debts. Lita's tabloid exposure and screen career must be suppressed. The men escape into work while the women flail at vanity of excess. The whistle of tragedy sounds in the distance as Nona falls into love with a married man, her brother Jim hopelessly esconced in a bad marriage with a woman he idolises, while her father works himself into an eagerly embraced oblivion, while Jim's father openly drinks to forget the societal oasis he knew before his divorce. Nona's mother compulsively schedules all their lives to death, while pursuing the escapist mysticism of faith healing and the blind support of the latest guru. As the Jazz Age brings down the curtain on the theatre of old New York and its values, Art and Cinema loom. While the family coalesces at their country estate to save Jim and Lita's marriage, each battle with their chosen talisman against life and its evils. Much more is at stake and much more is lost. This startlingly psychological novel will fascinate any student of life. The sacrifice of a fragment to obtain the societal whole inevitably comes, more starkly portrayed here than anywhere, the novel having served as forceful denouement. In the tolling bells of Whartons' worlds, the death of illusion sounds the deepest peal.

Newland Archer, the protagonist of this ironically entitled novel set in the late nineteenth century, is a proper New York gentleman, and part of a society which adheres to strict social codes, subordinating all aspects of life to doing what is expected, which is synonymous with doing what it right. As the author remarks early in the novel, "Few things were more awful than an offense against Taste." Newland meets and marries May Welland, an unimaginative, shallow young woman whose upbringing has made her the perfect, inoffensive wife, one who knows how to behave and how to adhere to the "rules" of the society in which they live.

When Newland is reintroduced to May's cousin, Countess Ellen Olenska, who has left her husband in Europe and now wants a divorce, he finds himself utterly captivated by her independence and her willingness to risk all, socially, by flouting convention. Both Ellen and Newland are products of their upbringing and their culture, however, and they resist their feelings because of their separate social obligations. Various meetings between them suggest that their feelings are far stronger than what is obvious on the surface, and the question of whether they will finally state the obvious or act on their feelings constitutes the plot.

Wharton creates an exceptionally realistic picture of New York in the post-Civil War era, a time in which aristocrats of inherited wealth found themselves competing socially with parvenus. Her ability to show the conflict between a person's need for social acceptance and the desire for personal freedom is striking. As the various characters make their peace with their decisions--either to challenge or yield to social dictates--the novel achieves an unusual dramatic tension, subtle because of its lack of direct confrontation and powerful in its effects on individual destinies. This is, in fact, less an "age of innocence" than it is an age of social manipulation.

Wharton herself manipulates the reader--some of her best dialogues and scenes are those the characters never actually have--conversations that they imagine, confrontations which they never allow themselves to have, and resolutions which happen through inaction rather than through decision-making. Filled with acute social observations, the novel shows individuals convincing themselves that obeying social dictates is the right thing to do. Though the novel sometimes seems claustrophobic due to its limitations on action, Age of Innocence brilliantly captures the age and attitudes of the era. Mary Whipple

Nobody knew the hypocrises of "old New York" better than Edith Wharton, and nobody portrayed them as well. In "The Age of Innocence," Wharton took readers on a trip through the stuffy upper crust of 1870s New York, wrapped up in a hopeless love affair.

Newland Archer, of a wealthy old New York family, has become engaged to pretty, naive May. But as he tries to get their wedding date moved up, he becomes acquainted with May's exotic cousin, Countess Olenska, who has returned home after dumping her cheating count husband. At first, the two are friends, but then they become something more.

After Newland marries May, the attraction to the mysterious Countess and her free, unconventional life becomes even stronger. He starts to rebel in little ways, but he's still mired in a 100% conventional marriage, job and life. Will he become an outcast and go away with the beautiful countess, or will he stick with May and a safe, dull life?

There's nothing too scandalous about "Age of Innocence" in a time when J.Lo acquires and discards boyfriends and husbands like old pantyhose. Probably it wasn't in the 1920s, when the book was first published. But this isn't a book to read if you appreciate sexiness and steam -- instead it's a social satire, a bittersweet romance, and a look at what happens when human beings lose all spontaneity and passion.

Wharton brings old New York to life in this book -- opulent, beautiful, cultured, yet empty and kind of boring. It is "where the real thing was never said or done or even thought," so tied up in tradition that nobody there really lives. And even though the unattainable countess is beautiful and sweet, it becomes obvious after awhile that Newland is actually in love with the idea of breaking out of his conventional life.

Wharton's writing is a bit like a giant rosebud -- it takes forever to fully open. So don't be discouraged by the endless conversations about flowers, ballrooms and gloves. Wharton put them in to illustrate her point about New York at that time, and all the stories about different families, scandals and customs are actually very important.

Newland seems like a rather boring person, since he only has brief bursts of individuality. But he gets more interesting when he struggles between his conscience and his longing for freedom. May is (suitably) pallid and a bit dull, while the Countess is alluringly mysterious and unconsciously rebellious. The fact that she doesn't TRY to rebel makes her far more interesting than Newland.

"Age of Innocence" considered a story about a man in love with an unattainable woman, but it's also about that man straining against a stagnant, hypocritical society. Rich, intriguing and beautifully written.

Prfoessor Killoran's scholarship is well-respected, thorough and readable. In this text she surveys the reception of Wharton's work by its critics. Neither a feminist, a Marxist, a post-structuralist or a Freudian, Killoran has no axe to grind but rather interprets the works of Wharton from a multi-faceted close-reading approach and looks at the historical record of reception and review with an eye to giving her reader meaningful insight into the author's life and times. Useful to the undergraduate, indispensible to the specialist.

As with her earlier deft readings, Killoran has done it again, this time with THE CRITICAL RECEPTION OF EDITH WHARTON. We learn a great deal about the author, including what her contemporaries thought of her, and how critics have viewed her throughout the decades since her early publications. Killoran does not shy away from controversial ground, showing the illogic of those who see Wharton as a disciple of Henry James, and, even more intriguing, takes up the "feminist takeover of Edith Wharton". Killoran is not intemperate: with an exhaustive and respectful view of feminist scholarship, Killoran shows that there are indeed other views, ones that may be more fruitful for a deep understanding of the author's genius. Of particular interest is Killoran's unconventional reading of ETHAN FROME, and her detail of all the contradictory things that critics have had to say over the years.

Whether you agree or disagree with Killoran, you will come away with a clear and detailed view of Wharton's standing among various critics, her shifting place in the American literary canon, and a deep appreciation for the many reasons this outstanding writer has appealed and continues to appeal to her readership. Bravo, Professor Killoran.