Edith Wharton Books

I really liked Wharton's "House of Mirth" but could not stand this book. I think it was my extreme dislike of all the characters--all shallow, manipulative people who rigidly followed the aristocratic social mores of the time. The language was stilted and the social scenes boring. Read "House of Mirth" and forget this one.

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.

Imagine living in a world where life is governed by intricate rituals; a world "balanced so precariously that its harmony [can] be shattered by a whisper" (Wharton); a world ruled by self-declared experts on form, propriety and family history - read: scandal -; where everything is labeled and yet, people are not; where in order not to disturb society's smooth surface nothing is ever expressed or even thought of directly, and where communication occurs almost exclusively by way of symbols, which are unknown to the outsider and, like any secret code, by their very encryption guarantee his or her permanent exclusion.

Such, in faithful imitation of Victorian England, was the society of late 19th century upper class New York. Into this society returns, after having grown up and lived all her adult life in Europe, American-born Countess Ellen Olenska, after leaving a cruel and uncaring husband. She already causes scandal by the mere manner of her return; but not knowing the secret rituals of the society she has entered, she quickly brings herself further into disrepute by receiving an unmarried man, by being seen in the company of a man only tolerated by virtue of his financial success and his marriage to the daughter of one of this society's most respected families, by arriving late to a dinner in which she has expressly been included to rectify a prior general snub, by leaving a drawing room conversation to instead join a gentleman sitting by himself - and worst of all, by openly contemplating divorce, which will most certainly open up a whole Pandora's box of "oddities" and "unpleasantness:" the strongest terms ever used to express moral disapproval in this particular social context. Soon Ellen, who hasn't seen such façades even in her husband's household, finds herself isolated and, wondering whether noone is ever interested in the truth, complains bitterly that "[t]he real loneliness here is living among all these kind people who only ask you to pretend."

Ellen finds a kindred soul in attorney Newland Archer, her cousin May Welland's fiancé, who secretly toys with a more liberal stance, while outwardly endorsing the value system of the society he lives in. Newland and Ellen fall in love - although not before he has advised her, on his employer's and May and Ellen's family's mandate, not to pursue her plans of divorce. As a result, Ellen becomes unreachable to him, and he flees into accelerating his wedding plans with May, who before he met Ellen in his eyes stood for everything that was good and noble about their society, whereas now he begins to see her as a shell whose interior he is reluctant to explore for fear of finding merely a kind of serene emptiness there; a woman whose seemingly dull, passive innocence grinds down every bit of roughness he wants to maintain about himself and who, as he realizes even before marrying her, will likely bury him alive under his own future. Then his passion for Ellen is rekindled by a meeting a year and a half after his wedding, and an emotional conflict they could hardly bear when he was not yet married escalates even further. And only when it is too late for all three of them he finds out that his wife had far more insight (and almost ruthless cleverness) than he had ever credited her with.

Winner of the 1921 Pulitzer Prize and the first work of fiction written by a woman to be awarded that distinction, "The Age of Innocence" is one of Edith Wharton's most enduringly popular novels; the crown jewel among her subtly satirical descriptions of New York upper class society. By far not as overtly condemning and cynical as the earlier "House of Mirth" (for which Wharton reportedly even saw this later work as a sort of apology), "The Age of Innocence" is a masterpiece of characterization and social study alike: an intricate canvas painted by a master storyteller who knew the society which she described inside out, and who, even though she had moved to France (where she would continue living for the rest of her life) almost a decade earlier, was able to delineate late 19th century New York society's every nuance in pitch-perfect detail, while at the same time - seemingly without any effort at all - also blending together all these minute details into an impeccably composed ensemble that will stay with the reader long after he has turned the last page.

In the beginning of the book I felt suffocated and annoyed by the old New York society yet appreciated Edith Wharton's caustic and dry humor when describing it and its denizens. I worried, though, that the book would aggravate me too much because of the characters and all of their rigid rules and arrogant affluence. However, that was what Edith wanted. We are thrust into the world of Newland Archer.

Just like Newland, I experienced the Countess Olenska as a delightful diversion and immediately wanted to read more about her world and conversations. When she asks Newland if he is much in love with his fiancee, he replies: "As much as a man can be." She then asks, "Do you think, then, there is a limit?" Through his relationship to her, Newland comes to the realization that all he had dreamed of turned out to be created by a fabricated self. Ellen Olenska awakened his authentic self, but because he had spent his entire young life on conforming to what he thought would equate with happiness, his former fantasy is suddenly turned into a constricting nightmare that he has to continue navigating.

May is brilliantly portrayed as a perfect and vapid beauty, almost mannequin-like in her icy and "innocent" approach to their future together.

I think both men and women would gain a lot from reading this, because we all have at one time yearned for someone or something (whether another person, career goal, etc.) that would require sacrificing one's identity so that if you followed your heart you would lose everything in the process except for your true self.

The suspense and angst builds as the novel progresses until I wanted to scream at Newland to run away with Ellen. The story ends when we find out what decisions were made, and that is followed by many years later and what had become of everyone. That part, to me, was the saddest.

"...people who dreaded scandal more than disease, who placed decency above courage, and who considered that nothing was more ill-bred than "scenes", except the behavior of those who gave rise to them." Edith Wharton "The Age of Innocence"

The realm of high society in 1870's New York was a world that was much more sated with hypocrisy and odious ostentation than of innocence. Most of the main characters in this classic made my stomach turn, talk about a bunch of phony, self-important, affected aristocrats. However, what really made this Pulitzer Prize winner so enjoyable for me is the main female character - Countess Ellen Olenska. What a wonderful creation! She is not the least bit pretentious (she actually treats her maid as an equal and friend) and possesses a genuine, compassionate heart of gold. She had the courage to stand alone and be her own person, despite being ostracized from her inner circle.

The story centers upon the upcoming marriage of one of N.Y.'s elite couples - Newland Archer and May Welland - and the free spirited Ellen, who has all of upper-class society in an uproar since separating from her abusive husband. For in their myopic world, divorce is not an option and most of her family and friends believe she should go back to her husband despite all the unhappiness he has caused her with his persistently perfidious ways. Ellen's arrival also abruptly shakes the fragile foundation of Archer and May's union. For when Archer first meets the Countess, his life and his future dreams suddenly change drastically. For the first time in his life, Ellen helps him see how truly trapped he is in his superficial world.

This may be a fictional novel, and it may take place in a different era and place, but the world of the privileged class hasn't changed all that much in today's American society. Bottom line, Edith's attention to detail is dead-on accurate when depicting the singular, shallow world of the elite. This is the first Wharton novel I have ever read, however, as a fan of Naturalism (i.e. Zola, Maupassant, Dreiser, Steinbeck, et al...) I knew I had to give her a shot. Needless to say, I was not disappointed in the least. I really enjoy her witty style and also the empathy she showed toward the plight of her characters, particularly her main protagonist Newland Archer and his shallow wife May.

Definitely recommended!!!

This is an unusually good book with the familiar theme of the life of a single woman in times past. Lily Bart is an extremely beautiful but relatively poor woman who is starting to get older and is still unmarried. In this era, a woman's only hope for survival was to marry a wealthy man and only the most decorative types could hope for this. Lily,who counts on her beauty to get her what she wants, longs not only for a man with wealth, but also wants one who pleases her personality wise and in appearance as well. Her desire to have it all in an era when women were at mens' mercy proves to be her undoing. Financial debt, betrayal by both male and female "friends", and the hypocrital mores of the upper class society back then prove to be Lily's undoing. Selden, the one man she truly loves but won't marry because he is poor also eventually turns his back on her when false rumors about her and a married man surface. Lily finds herself alone, poor, and forced to work for a living.

Lily is a study in contrast-beautiful in appearance but with a shallow personality; intelligent but greedy; inclined to rich upper class snobbery, but herself rather poor; lacking good judgement, but blaming everybody else for her problems; convinced of being taken advantage of while seeking to take advantage of others; and lastly, likeable yet unlikeable, a strange mixture.

The book is well written although somewhat verbose, but not overly so. I enjoyed it much more than others of its type, namely Jane Austin novels. Recommended.

A decent novel for a decent price. The story's the same regardless of what paper it's written on.

This best selling classic was written in 1905 and is a great portrait of how women perceived their financial role in turn of the century American society.

America was coming into the consumer age in the early 1900's - it was the dawn of opulence, excess spending and the obvious and glaring differences between men, women and money. The House of Mirth is an eye-opening account of how women could only be observers of the American Dream. They had to be content with watching men achieve financial independence all the while knowing that it was out of reach for themselves. This book is a glaring reminder that the only way most women could achieve financial security, was to marry it.

Personally, I've always believed that many of the beliefs and attitudes we women have about money, wealth and prosperity must be somehow locked in our DNA. Money attitudes are passed on to us from generation to generation. This book, to me, reinforces this. Our great, great grandmothers were brought up in this turn-of-the-century era. Their beliefs, observations and values have been passed to us consciously and unconsciously. Reading this book, I kept saying to myself, "No wonder so many of us struggle with achieving and enjoying financial independence."

The House of Mirth is the story of Lily Bart and her struggle for financial independence. From birth her role had been set and no matter how much she wanted to change it, her inner programming and her place in society wouldn't allow it. Lily believes in financial success, wants financial success and yet, she cannot achieve it the same way as the men within her social circle are able to. Men, she realized, have a financial freedom women were not allowed to achieve. The question becomes, did Lily ever make peace with this financial inequity?

This book is a powerful look at the traditional role of women in the early 1900's. Beauty, wit and charm were the acceptable methods by which women could achieve financial success.

The House of Mirth is a great comparison of how men and women were allowed to learn, grow and evolve financially. Men had the power and women paid homage to that power.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book and couldn't believe it was written over 100 years ago. It was such an "aha" and insight into why many of the gender based beliefs and values women have today, are "throw backs" to the early 20th century.

Two people telling a story: one has lived it while the other has not. Which would you believe? Most would say the first for there would be no bias, no lies, and no overstatements. This definitely applies to Edith Wharton's The House of Mirth, a novel set in the early 1900's. When Wharton accounts the dismal life of Lily Bart and her continuous struggle to fit into upper crust New York, the reader senses that the author is writing an autobiography: the feelings, the thought process, and the actions of the protagonist are indeed too realistic for any reader to deny.

A look into the history of America during the writing and publication of the book is vital for understanding why Lily fails but still struggles. At the turn of the twentieth century, America was passing through its post-war era of the Gilded Age, a period of thirty years where extravagant displays of American wealth filled many cities. New York is no exception of course. Born and raised in New York aristocracy during this time, Wharton depicts the bitter and malice realities of living and partaking in it through the influence of Bertha, the antagonist, on Lily's life.

New York City had just become a world of extremes, with millionaires living on one block and homeless living across in tenements. Nobles would abolish their standards just to become more famous and richer. People did not follow their dignity or moral sense, but rather thought with stone hearts and money-driven minds. In this savage culture where feasting on others meant a better stature for oneself, there is evidently no room for mercy, love, or acceptance. Of course, in this sort of atmosphere, Lily finds it almost impossible to fit in or even enjoy her life.

A little research on the book title reveals valuable information. The title of the book is directly taken from the Ecclesiastes verse, "The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth," illustrating that Wharton believed her society to be not only foolish but also vain. Besides the social issues, Wharton realized that money is an easy means of opening doors to those who have it, but a problem maker to those who lack it. Unfortunately, the protagonist does not have it, but the antagonist, Bertha, does.

Bertha is the antithesis of Lily, as one enjoys money while the other dreams of it; one becomes free while the other becomes enslaved. The extremity between both lives illustrates that aristocratic life during the early twentieth century was a mere cover that hid a more treacherous and villainous lifestyle.

Since this book does not only offer a great outlook of American history but also a female's struggle to marry and fit socially, I advice all those that face this problem to read it and learn from Lily's mistakes.

The House of Mirth is one of my all-time favorite novels. This tragic, ironic tale of a society darling's fall from grace has always brought tears to my eyes at the injustice of it all. Lily Bart is a true product of her time, both a fool for trusting the people around her and a heroine for refusing to settle for a loveless marriage, become a married man's mistress or stoop to blackmail to regain her status in society. Her love for Lawrence Seldon is both her strength and her downfall.

I don't want to get into a complete plot summary. Most people know the story of a socialite with limited means but with good family connections. Her gambling debts lead to her ultimate downfall, for she makes financial investments with a married man with ulterior motives. False rumors cut her out of polite society, and she is forced to make some harsh decisions. The story is more about the trappings in a hypocritical society where appearances and reputation are above human compassion. This is the third time I have read this book, and words still fail me when I make an attempt to describe this wonderful piece of work. Edith Wharton had a keen eye when it came to writing about her world during the turn of the century. Her novels are tragic and ironic, some would call them depressing, but she wrote about her world, and she most obviously knew how things were like in her world. A note to those who may be reading this book for the first time: read the story first, not the introduction. Twelve years ago, when I read this book for the first time, I made the horrible mistake of reading an author's introduction before reading the story, and the aforementioned author (whose name escapes me) almost spoiled the book for me. The introduction had a detailed description of the ending. It's a good thing I had decided to read the book anyway, but I was certainly not pleased. Read the book and savor it. This is one of the most insightful looks into America during the late nineteenth century I have ever read.

Despite the fact that Undine Spragg is an appalling woman, I found myself quite mesmerised by her (she would expect nothing less). We've all met Undines and been staggered by their total lack of empathy and their reckless indifference to the impact they have on the world around them. It should leave you quite cold, reading a novel centered around such an unpleasant person. Instead I couldn't put this book down and that must surely be because Ms Wharton has created a convincing world where the "good" don't always triumph over the "evil". Undine's only comeuppance must surely be that like the rest of us, one day she will be old and unattractive and ultimately forgotten.

I hope to report only subjective responses to this novel, After Ethan Frome the only Wharton I've ever read. And having got through this one, I shan't be tempted to take on any more of her work. I leave it only puzzled as to why she is a major figure in the history of American letters.

I disliked all of her characters. They are thin, stereotypical representatives of time, place and behavior, and Undine -the central character - is the worst. Her frail and uxorious husband, Marvell, [the ironic names given to people and places are redpaint obvious] had no better future than suicide, although facing his problems directly would have resolved them. Apart from the acquisitive Elmer Moffat none of the major characters even sensed a moral imperative and Elmer's morality is limited to relationships.

I wanted to put the book down early in Book I but slogged on thinking at first it must be satiric then realizing it isn't satire at all but a realistic attempt to portray characters typical of the preWWI world Wharton knew so well. And I've no doubt her's is an honest portrayal of that world. Yet, I grew so grouchy when reading my wife said I ought stop reading it. My mood grew darker with every page. Undine is the most odious female character I can remember ever reading .

I do credit Wharton for her felicitous prose style and her narrative structure because nothing else kept me turning pages. Yet even the narrative is melodrama at best.

Surely I've overlooked important issues and have revealed more about me than about Edith. As they say in theatre, not everybody can be part of your audience.

The main character Undine is focused on having the best, most expensive clothing, furniture, jewelry and whatever else she can get her hands on no matter the cost, financially or otherwise on those around her who are forced to support her. Undine has an intense need to know all the important people when they are in style or just when it suits her interests to know them. These traits may remind you of some of the famous socialities today who are famous for almost no other reason than they are famous. Undine does nothing more than talk her way into money, which along with her beauty is her sole talent.

Undine does many things that may make the reader uncomfortable, and although I hesitate to label her as bad, she has a lot of attitude and total disregard for others. Her conquests create an engaging narrative fueled by her selfish personality. She takes advantage of people who love her - parents, men, other family - in a cold, calculating way that seems devoid of passion, except for one early affair that we only hear about after the fact.

One of Wharton's major points in this novel is if you have a society where women's place is not college or business, or some other trade that allows them to fend for themselves, they have few choices in life. Creatures like Undine can emerge in this environment. Her choices in life are similar to cut-throat business practices like that which the men around her do and even her father is involved in.

Although I have read Wharton's major novels, this an exceptional one because of the spectacular character of Undine and the quality of writing. Hard to put down.

In The Custom of the Country, Edith Wharton creates one of the most unlikable, even despicable, characters I know of in American fiction. Undine Spragg is not a murderer, sociopath, or monster, but an ambitious young woman determined to climb New York's social ladder to the very top. The ambitions in themselves are not inherently bad, and other characters clearly share them. It is Undine's utter lack of regard for anyone else, from her aging parents to her neglected son, that makes her contemptible. What makes her chilling is the odd combination of ingenuousness and its opposite; with rare exceptions she is oblivious to the rights, aspirations, and feelings of others if they do not pertain to her own objectives.

In Wharton's world, choosing the right man was as important to a society woman's future as selecting the right college, graduate school, or first job is today for a professional woman. For Undine and her friends, divorce carries no more significance than as a means to get out of the wrong job. As she tells her fiancé's shocked traditional New York family, "I guess Mabel'll get a divorce pretty soon . . . They like each other well enough. But he's been a disappointment to her . . . Mabel realizes she'll never really get anywhere till she gets rid of him." This dinner conversation foreshadows the rest of the novel.

Wharton reveals Undine's competitive nature through her childhood rivalry with Indiana Frusk, and her unsatisfied, reaching one through her travels with her parents. Undine will never be happy because there will always be someone with something she doesn't have, whether it is greater wealth, fame, or a title or position.

By marrying Undine, Ralph hopes to save her from "Van Degenism," which helps to set up the irony after irony found throughout The Custom of the Country. Ralph doesn't know that Undine not only desires "Van Degenism," but she wants to define it. A would-be poet, Ralph cannot seem to separate surface beauty from inner ugliness. "When she shone on him like that what did it matter what nonsense she talked?" Raymond de Chelles, who reminds Undine of Ralph, first sees her on an evening when, as even the cynical Charles Bowen thinks, " . . . she seemed to have been brushed by the wing of poetry, and its shadow lingered in her eyes."

More than greed, selfishness, or hedonism, Undine's defining characteristic, lack of empathy, shapes her actions. "It never occurred to her that other people's lives went on when they were our of her range of vision." What dooms her relationships with Ralph and Raymond is not money, attention, socializing, or any of Undine's numerous desires and complaints, nor is it simply the gulf between their values and her own. The failure lies in her inability to grasp that anything of importance exists outside her own system and their inability to see this in her until far too late. Because her parents cannot deny her anything, ". . . her sense of the rightfulness of her own cause had been measured by making people do as she pleased."

Undine wants everything, but especially that which she does not have. Her counterpart, Elmer Moffatt, exhibits this "new money" behavior through collecting objects. "To have things had always seemed to her the first essential of existence," while Moffatt says, "I mean to have the best, you know; not just to get ahead of the other fellows, but because I know it when I see it." Raymond's tapestries have no more deeper emotional value to Moffatt than last year's dresses do to Undine; all are markers of money and success.

Ironically, Undine is little more than an attractive object to the people around her. As Madame de Trézac tells her, " . . . they're delighted to bring you out at their big dinners, with the Sèvres and the plate." Later, when she visits dealers with Moffatt, she saw that "the actual touching of rare textures--bronze or marble, or velvets flushed with the bloom of age--gave him a sensations like her own beauty had once roused in him." To Moffatt, who knows and understands her insatiable hungers, she may be at least in part an object for his collection. He tells her, "You're not the beauty you were . . . but you're a lot more fetching." The "oddly qualified phrase" could be used of Raymond's tapestries and many of the other old valuables that Moffatt has acquired.

For Wharton, Undine and Moffatt represent those aspects of contemporary American society that she most disliked. As Charles Bowen says, " . . . in this country, the passion for making money has preceded the knowing how to spend it . . ." Undine, like the Wall Street of Peter Van Degen and Elmer Moffatt, is voracious, self-centered, reaching, and without conscience or moral center (choosing to sell an ill-gotten string of pearls for the money rather than to return it). Unlike Mrs. Marvell, with her hospital committee activities, Undine does not contribute to society; she was born to take. Symbolic and symptomatic of the new America that Wharton left, Undine remains ignorant and without taste.

Wharton's last paragraph is brilliant, for it cleverly shows how even an Undine who has achieved wealth, position, fame, and power can still find something to desire--something that she has put out of her own reach through her actions. " . . . . she said to herself that it was the one part she was really made for." Undine is a young woman; Wharton hints at the potential she still has to leave yet more misery in her wake as she yearns for yet more of what she believes she deserves. She is like a living Tantalus, but one whose every attempt to grasp destroys.

Diane L. Schirf
Sunday, 6 May 2007.

The unsympathetic protagonist is still a tough sell in literature. You can't admire Lolita without mentioning your dislike of Humbert. A discussion of A Confederacy of Dunces-comic as it is- is incomplete without mention of the creepy neurosis of Ignatius Reilly, and so on. For the unlikeable protag to be a woman is a virtual invitation to have your book ignored or disparaged on that account alone.

So Wharton's decision to put the amoral Undine Spragg at the center of The Custom of the Country was bold.Spragg bullies her parents into moving to New York from Kansas because she senses that the city is the center of the world that she wants to conquer. Wharton's treatment of the character and her perceptions is splendidly ironic. When Spragg is invited to a posh dinner, she is disappointed to note that the fire in the grate isn't a gas log or an electric light, but an old-fashioned wood fire.

It is because Spragg is, unlike Wharton, devoid of any introspection or sense of right and wrong that we have to read this as a deadpan piece of satire. Wharton's prose is wonderful and although this book is not read much these days, she considered it her masterpiece.


--Lynn Hoffman, author of THE NEW SHORT COURSE IN WINE and
bang BANG: A Novel

Edith Wharton's 2nd novel set in New England was written during
World War 1 from her expatriate's home in Paris in 1916. Her style does not reflect sentimental reminiscence for gentle hills and bountiful earth, for she continues her evocation of the starkness of social existence, set against the desolation of the heartless landscape of New England, which she began in ETHAN FROME. While the former story is related by an objective narrator during a prolonged winter sojourn, SUMMER in contrast is presented by the omniscient narrator--opening
in June, culminating on July 4th and ending bleakly in early frosty autumn. In both cases it is the arrival of a stranger which serves as a catalyst to set the stories in motion. Here it is precisely during these months of Nature's extremes of heat and color, perfume and growth, that passion blooms in the [...] of the youthful protagonist.

Raised as a charity child and brought down with human compassion from the wretched Mountain community, Charity at 17 treads a wary existence in the red house. At home she bolts her door against the possible repetition of attempted lechery on the part of her sexually-frustrated guardian; by day she sits bored in the decaying library--a legacy from old Hatchard. Books may gather dust and mold but the heroine recognizes the siren lure of Nature in this season of ripening desire. She has no wish to rot inside, unappreciated by locals and unloved by any man, until Lucius Harney--doing research on quaint, historical residences--arrives to spend the summer with his elderly aunt. As an objective outsider he can not possibly be tainted by the shameful whispers about Charity's past. Or can he--a man of the world, able to judge for himself.

But how does a young woman of the in early 20th century
seriously hope to escape the social prison of a post-Victorian mindset?
Does she have the right to shape her own destiny, to challenge and disown her negative heritage, and carve out her own role in backwater North Dormer--whose very name suggests a window into what should be an indiviudal's privacy. The village rumor mill churns with delicious, malginant glee, despite the platonic nature of Charity's nighttime vigil. After the innuendoes about a certain fallen girl's visit to a particular House in a larger town, it is inevitable that Charity's ownindiscretions will be magnified and distorted--until they ultimately prove true. Is she doomed to be trapped among these small minds with even less heart for life? Does the man she passionately loves have the stuff of true romantic heroes or will he succumb to expediency? The controversial ending may puzzle readers, but in some sense it is a mild victory for decency and practicality--if not for actual happiness.
A thought-provoking novel for older teens and adults.

Written in 1917, Summer is Wharton's most explicitly sexual novel, tracing the awakening of Charity Royall to the sweetness of love and its power. Charity was born on "the mountain," a place of poverty and degradation, and given over to Lawyer Royall and his wife, residents of the town of North Dormer, to be brought up. When his wife dies, Lawyer Royall is hard pressed to deal with this child, choosing to ignore her most of the time, and bringing her up with little feeling of warmth of affection.

Anxious to have some independence so that she can escape, at some point, from the closed society of the village, Charity becomes the town librarian, a part-time job which gives her a small amount of her own money. There she encounters Lucius Harney, the nephew of one of the town's leading citizens, an architect studying some of the old houses in the area. His interest in Charity soon develops into affection and then passion, and the two become lovers, a relationship which quickly develops complications. Charity, with few options in life, is starved for affection and yearns to escape the village, while Harney, educated but personally weak, can already come and go as he pleases.

Wharton uses the seasons symbolically to illustrate the development of the relationship between Charity Royall and Lucius Harney from the earliest stirrings of their interest when they meet in early June to the full passion of their love in mid-August. Fall brings reality to Charity, and winter freezes her soul. Throughout the novel references are made to the mountain where Charity was born and to the ignorant people who live there without hope of improving their lives. Charity's own return to visit her family shows her the desperation of their lives, and her need to grasp whatever escape route is available to her.

Wharton's bold depiction of sexual themes makes this novel unusual for its period. She depicts a young woman who has a fierce desire for independence but who has few opportunities to escape her environment, a young woman who latches onto a relationship which broadens her world. She minces no words in showing scenes in which sexual abuse rears its ugly head, and she is realistic in the options she gives for "fallen" women like Charity to deal with the complications of their lives in the "fall" of the relationship. Though the beginning of the novel may seem sentimental or melodramatic, Wharton has a clear vision of the limited possibilities open to young women of the day, and her conclusion emphasizes this. n Mary Whipple

SUMMER is one of Edith Wharton's best novels, in many ways on par with ETHAN FROME, to which it is often compared, especially with regard to its rural setting. As a child Charity Royall, born of degenerate parents and living in squalor on "the Mountain," is adopted by Lawyer Royall after her drunken father is sent to prison. Years later after Charity has grown up, Lawyer Royall wants to marry her, but she rejects him.

Later she meets Lucius Harney and they have a "summer" affair. When she learns she is pregnant, Harney abandons her, telling her he is already engaged to a respectable girl in his hometown. Charity returns to the "Mountain" where she attends her mother's burial and then stays on until Lawyer Royall rescues her again and this time marries her.

Wharton captures the sordidness of the "Mountain" and the oiliness of Lawyer Royall with unrelenting realism. These are hard people living in a harsh environment (as were the characters in ETHAN FROME), and no one escapes. The burial scene with Charity and her mother is among the best scenes in all of Whaton's works. This is a powerful novel, published just as America was about to enter the Great War.

Edith Wharton is clearly one America's best writers, not only of her time, but of all time. Much, if not all, of her writing clearly conveys real emotion, raw honesty and more than a glimpse of how oppressive life was to women in the early 20th Century. He novel, Summer, is no exception. I have read nearly all she has written and pulled down this novel for a second read (a rare thing indeed) and found it to be even better the second time around. Arguably her second best effort to The Age of Innocence (and differentiating between her works is difficult at best given the level at which she writes).

Charity, Lucius Harney, Mr. Royall and North Dormer leave lasting impressions on her readers as she paints her story of the summer and maturation of this young woman in a small and judgmental society. Wharton is able to describe and convey scenes, emotions and a young woman's coming of age in a way all writers should comb over again and again. Overstating her ability to write is quite literally impossible. A master. A timeless piece. A wonderful and powerful book.

I loved Charity. I think her biggest flaw was lack of self confidence, but that probably was Lawyer Royall's fault for thinking she owed him her life for rescuing her. It was a beautiful book. I loved her romance with Lucious. I loved the scene where she went to see her birth mother. I loved the whole book, except the ending. That was awful.

Textbook as described, good shape, no marks or highlights. Quick delivery and good price, thanks! Purchased for class, but really enjoy some of the readings, great collection of authors.

I don't have any complaints. The book was brand new, so of course there were no problems with it. The book was delivered in a timely manner.

I purchased these volumes of the anthology for school and, while I am not generally a fan of reading out of anthologies, this whole set has been very beneficial. I plan on keeping them after I finish the class in order to use them when I become an English teacher. The author introductions are helpful and insightful, providing sufficient background on the writer so that the reader may better understand each story by having a basic knowledge of what the author was experiencing in his or her life. The footnotes areexcellent, giving definitions of archaic words and phrases that might not otherwise be found without extensive search into the customs of the English language. Overall, this was a good purchase, and I will use it often in the future.

Another too thick, too heavy, too expensive textbook anthology of American literature. There're FAR too many selections to cover in a university survey course (which is all these books are good for--no one would read them for pleasure!) and a lot of them are pretty mediocre. When will these dinosaurs collapse under their own weight and some enlightened editors come up with something truly useful, meaningful, and inspiring? No wonder the reading public is is shrinking--these obese anthologies destroy any desire to read and study literature.

The college bookstore was TOO busy this semester. I took a couple of minutes and LOTS OF FAITH in ordering the volumes on-line. This order was shipped and at my home before I could blink!

Exquemelin's account of Carribbean piracy is a classic - it details not only the exploits of a number of individual pirates (l'Olonnaise, Pierre le Grande, Cpt. Morgan to name a few), but also the daily lives of the crew and the democratic nature of a pirate's life in general.

Interspersed among tales of piracy on the high seas (and, often times on land as well), Exquemelin provides a travelouge, vividly describing the flora, fauna, inhabitants and principal ports along the Caribbean. While there are exaggerations, on the whole it provides an excellent first-hand account of life in the Americas when piracy was at its zenith. Highly recommended for historians, pirate fans (and lets face it, who isn't a fan of pirates?), and especially those going to or coming from holiday in the Caribbean. A fascinating read.

This book was very interesting and did not put me to sleep. It kept the history poignant and interesting and did not slow me down at all. As a person who is very into diving and history, the book really enlightened me as to facts about Pirate history that I did not know before. Definitely a must read for anyone who is interested in maritime history or just pirates.

This book was a good account of the violence that ensued when the Buccaneers went in search of gold, liquor and women. It is more of an insider account of violent acts and missions perpetrated by the buccanneers than anything else, but it also gives an interesting description of the pirates (bucs) encounters with Indians, animals, like the cayman and turtles which I found most interesting. The bulk of the history focuses on the warfare between Morgan and the Spanish, and some of the pirate codes and practices that existed among Morgan's men.

Originally published in Dutch, this version is translated by Alexis Brown. The author, Alexander O. Exquemelin (spelling varies widely between versions and sources), provides a first hand account of the environs, history and, to him, current accounts of several of the well known buccaneer captains.

Much of the book is in travel log format and describes the various towns, flora and fauna of the Caribbean, especially locales like Tortuga, Panama and Hispaniola. The author describes various animals and often their suitability as food, such as the differing qualities of the various types of turtles and even manatees. His descriptions of the trees and animals are fairly detailed and the modern reader can often make the connection with current names.

The other focus of the book is a set of narratives of two of the better known buccaneers: Francis L'Olonnais and Henry Morgan. The author provides accounts and opinions of the exploits of these two men and their crews, including the less than admirable usage of torture.

This is required reading for any with more than just a passing interest in pirates (I am somewhat ashamed that it has taken me nearly 8 years to get around to this cornerstone for a true understanding of buccaneers). While the biographical content is limited to just two buccaneers, the basic understanding of the buccaneer lifestyle and environment provide a firm basis for understanding much of what transpired during the 17th century in the Caribbean as well as what was to follow in the Golden Age of Piracy.
P-)

An exciting first hand account of pirate life in the Caribbean. I found the book to be both enlightening and entertaining to read. It was packed full of exciting, interesting tales about how pirate life was really lived.

Fascinating book especially if you enjoy these authors. Aside from their attachments to their dogs, I loved learning more about their lives. Highly recommend it.

This was a very interesting new look at some famous authors. Who would have thought Emily Dickenson would love a huge Newfounland? Or expected Emily Bronte to have been the inspiration for Heathcliffe, not Cathy? I finished the book in short order and enjoyed going back to have another look at the famous authors' works. As an English teacher, this was a most enriching experience, and could lead to something 'other than the same old, same old' discussions with my students.

This book will long have a place on my bookshelf! Being an avid reader and having just lost the furry love of my life I was immediately drawn to this work. It is not surprising to learn how these celebrated female authors were inspired by their dog friends. These stories bring life to the famous writers in a way one can easily relate to. Shaggy Muses has deepened my appreciation for the novelists themselves and I have gained greater understanding of the therapeutic role beloved pets can play in our lives.

Maureen Adams provides thoughtful insight into the very private lives of these five troubled women authors by exposing and exploring their relationships with their beloved dogs. Through Adams' well researched narrative, we learn about how and why these dogs were so important to each of these women, giving some confidence, others companionship and all of them love. Adams' background in psychology and literature allow her to weave these topics together in an unlikely subject matter to great effect. This is an illuminating and enjoyable read!

I was drawn to this book because I'm a dog lover and the idea of examining the relationship between dogs and humans has always interested me. I have read the works of only a couple of the authors covered in "Shaggy Muses" and thought that might limit the appeal the book would have for me, but quite the opposite.

All five of the biographies are extremely well written and illuminative. Authtor Maureen Adams shows how the relationship between the authors and their dogs influenced their lives and work. These relationships were different for each of the writers. I think the best definition of Keeper's role with Emily Bronte is a protector, while Flush helped Elizabeth Barrett Browning emerge from grief and isolation after the death of her brother.

Highly recommended for lovers of dogs and of literature.

The product arrived a month after order for a book club. It was returned. The general service by Amazon is TERRIBlE.

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.

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.

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.

Don't Miss "Afterward," a Great Ghost Story, June 15, 2007

Note: I made some Mormon reader angry over my negative reviews of books written by Mormons out to prove the Book of Mormon, and that person has been slamming my reviews as almost soon as they are posted. Oh, well.

Your "helpful" votes are appreciated. Thanks, and note that a short review is not necessarily a bad review if it leads you to some great stories.

I read "Afterward," a 40-page story, many years ago, and I wrote "Good!" by it in the table of contents.

Another great story of the supernatural is the "Willows," by Algernon Blackwood (not in this collection, of course). Both of these stories are highly recommended, but I won't ruin the stories by saying much about them. They are "short stories," after all.

Check out my other longer reviews. Your comments--positive or negative--are appreciated. Read the "Willows" wherever you can find it. Thanks.

The impact of these stories may hit you long after you've read them. These are stories you don't forget, yet you're compelled to reread them. Edith Wharton has given us one of the most delightful ghost story collections I've ever read. It is the characters that make an impression. Long after you've put the book down, they come back to you...

The Ghost Stories of Edith Wharton. Highly recommended.

I was unaware that Edith Wharton, known for such insightful novels as The Age of Innocence, The House of Mirth, and Ethan Frome (as well as the popular movies these novels inspired), had indulged in writing ghost stories other than "Afterward" until I found this collection. In Ghost Stories, Wharton reveals her mastery of the psychology of horror-where ghosts terrify through their oblique influence on the human mind and emotion-and where these human foibles create their own horrors.

Wharton's ghosts take many forms-from the loyal retainer in "The Lady's Maid's Bell" to the loyal retainers of a different sort in "Kerfol"; from the guilt behind "The Eyes" to the guilt recognised "Afterward"; from the mysterious "Mr. Jones" to the ghostly and ghastly "Miss Mary Pask." Some of these visitations are not seen, or, in the case of "Kerfol," even heard. They fulfill various functions: To protect the secrets of the past, to bring the secrets of the past to light, to warn the present about the future, and to remind the living of the dead.

Like the best ghost story writers, Wharton begins each tale with a scenario that seems ordinary enough. Early on, she drops subtle clues that build from a feeling that something is somewhat amiss up to a sense of fractured reality that shatters one's assumptions. Wharton masterfully creates ironic twists ("Miss Mary Pask"), innocent victims (the wife in "Afterward"), and nontraditional ghosts ("The Eyes," "Kerfol"). In many cases, the reader is one step ahead of the narrator or protagonist (Hitchcock's definition of suspense), creating a delicious sense of inevitable, unavoidable doom.

If you are looking for the gore and thrills of today's tale of horror, you will not find them in Wharton's work. If, on the other hand, you appreciate the subtle, growing sense of terror that M. R. James insinuates into The Ghost Stories of an Antiquary, you'll discover the same feeling of the fine line between this world and another that can manifest itself at any time and in any way when the need arises. These are stories to be read, savored, and read again-alone, of course.

Diane L. Schirf, 28 December 2003.

Edith Wharton is an acknowleged giant of the fiction novel. But this particular book of hers needs to come complete with a disclaimer. I would suggest: DON'T EXPECT TO READ THE AVERAGE GHOST STORY HERE. My one negative thing to say about this book is actually a positive. I could only read one of these stories at a time because I had to think one story over before I went on to the next . My tendency is to sit down with a book and read it cover to cover with minor stops along the way for everyday life to intervene. I have been reading this book for over a week now because each story makes me stop after I have read it to have a nice long thinking session regarding what I have just read. I loved that.

My favorite story of the eleven story collection is titled, "Afterward". The title means that a person did not know if they had met the ghost at Lyng in Dorsetshire until long, long afterward. A superb rendering of a mystery which began so quietly that Mary Boyne didn't even know she was involved in it until it was too late.

Another favorite is "Kerfol" which takes place in Brittany and involves a pack of dogs and how they got where they were. Or were they there at all?

And then there is "Bewitched" a masterpiece which made me shiver while reading about the frozen New England winter even though it was 90 degrees outside my house. Wharton's descriptions of the physical appearances of all those involved in this wonderfully frightening tale is straight from the Grant Wood painting American Gothic, except with all the wintery background painted in by Edith Wharton.

Very highly recommended. These are not the modern man's ghost stories even though they were published in 1973. Some have no resolution, you have to decide for yourself how you think the situation ended. Some may not seem like ghost stories at all until you think about them afterward. Some are like those odd occurrances which make you wonder if you really got all your information straight and if you might, just might, be imagining things. A bonus for me were the black and white drawings which accompanied each story. The writing is wonderful but I had expected that from Edith Wharton. What I had not expected was to be so totally engrossed.

When I saw this collection in the book store, I was intrigued because, although I'm not a fan of Edith Wharton's, I do admire her skills as a writer. The stories themselves are good, well plotted, have good characterizations, are compelling, etc.; however, they aren't typical ghost stories. Some of them don't even involve ghosts, and still others offer little explination to the nature of the ghost, i.e. why they are still around. While they are creepy at times, they didn't really scare me. Some might argue that I, as a 24 year-old young woman, exposed to countless graphic horror films, such as the Scream series, might simply be desensitized to the subtleness of Wharton's stories (as some of the other reviewers have described them), but I'd have to disagree because I scare very easily - the Harry Potter books gave me a fright, so you can just imagine. So if you are looking for a good scare, I'd look elsewhere. But if you're looking for good stories and/or you're an Edith Wharton fan, then I recommend this book.

This book is a great read with many classic writers included. It also has a story by Kate Chopin that was never published after the backlash she received from "The Awakening." It's a great story. I did notice this book had a price on the back of $1.99 and I paid far more on Amazon. Boo!

It's surely worth the read.

This compilation of American women is a fantastic introduction to the genre--from the American experience of Rebecca Harding Davis, to the superiorly intelligent prose of Edith Wharton (my personal favorite, although her story here is not my fav.) to the feminist leanings of Kate Chopin and Zora Neale Hurston---I could go on and on. This edition makes a super (and super cheap) travel companion; especially, if like me, you prefer to read short stories when traveling, rather than longer works. This book would make a great gift for a young woman, say age 13 to 25, who would appreciate the varied perspectives on life that these women provide; and its a great way to generate interest in the authors and reading. The stories are very entertaining and thought provocing; the ideas are readily accesible. You certainly cannot go wrong with this edition... I guarantee it will leave you or the lucky recipient wanting more.

I was greatly impressed with "Great Short Stories by American Women," the anthology edited by Candace Ward. The stories in this volume were originally published between 1861 and 1930, and represent the work of some of the United States' best writers. The contents of the book are as follows:

Rebecca Harding Davis' "Life in the Iron Mills," a compelling piece of social protest; Louisa May Alcott's "Transcendental Wild Oats," a satiric view of life in a Utopian commune; Sarah Orne Jewett's "A White Heron," a reflection on men, women, and nature; Mary E. Wilkins Freeman's "A New England Nun," about an extended engagement; Charlotte Perkins Gilman's creepy "The Yellow Wall-Paper," about a woman who, diagnosed with "a slight hysterical tendency," is forced to undergo an oppressive treatment; Kate Chopin's lusty, sensuous "The Storm"; Edith Wharton's "The Angel at the Grave," an ironic study of the legacy of a famous philosopher; Willa Cather's "Paul's Case," a tale about a dandyish young man who just can't fit into society; Alice Dunbar-Nelson's "The Stones of the Village," a study of racism, shame, and secrecy; Susan Glaspell's "A Jury of Her Peers," a murder mystery which the author adapted from her own one-act play entitled "Trifles"; Djuna Barnes' multigenerational family story "Smoke"; Zora Neale Hurston's "Sweat," a story of a nightmarishly bad marriage; and Nella Larsen's chilling "Sanctuary."

This is an excellent, richly varied selection of thirteen tales. Unfortunately, the brief intros to each tale and its author commit the two cardinal sins of such intros: (1) They are excessively intrusive, sometimes revealing the stories' endings; and (2) they often leave out relevant information -- such as the knowledge that both Edith Wharton and Susan Glaspell received Pulitzer Prizes for their writing.

So, if you skip the brief story/author intros, you will find this to be a fine anthology, good both for literature courses and for individual reading.

At first I thought I wasn't going to like this collection very much. Not enough contemporary stories, and I am, after all, a lover of contemporary literature. I get discouraged when I read older novels. The language seems too stiff at times. So, I approached this collection with caution. A good example of what I mean about older writing being slightly formal for my taste was the short story we've all had to read in English Lit classes: "The Yellow Wall-Paper", by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. Another example is the opening story, "Life in the Iron-Mills" by Rebecca Harding Davis. After a few pages I just hjad to skip them.

That said, I luckily enjoyed most of the stories quite a bit. I think the editor had very good care in choosing stories that had universal appeal. My favorite is "Transcendental Wild Oats", by Louisa May Alcott. I know more than a "nothing-but-organic" zealot who should read this one. I found it amazing that Alcott, back in the late 1800s, was able to offer such accurate criticism of the ridiculous views that some take on behalf of misguided ideals and very few facts.

Another story I enjoyed was "A White Heron" by Sarah Orne Jewett, where a young girl has to choose between her love of the bird on the title and receiving some very needed money in exchange for pointing out its nest to a hunter. I think the whole debate in the girl's mind was very well developed. I also liked Willa Cather's "Paul's Case", with Paul being an eccentric young man who gets used to the high life too soon. And another favorite was "Sweat" by Zora Neale Hurston, a story full of karma.

As a college student, I am burdened with purchasing many expensive books for classes. "Great Short Stories by American Women," however, was not a burden to purchase at all. The book showcases great works from many great female authors in the late 19th and early 20th century. Zora Neale Hurston, Edith Wharton, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, and Louisa May Alcott are just a few of the authors featured in the book.

In my class, we spent an hour discussing just one of the stories each day. "Great Short Stories by American Women" is an excellent classroom resource, and is very inexpensive.

Also, I highly recommend "The Yellow Wallpaper" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman for class discussion. It is a compelling piece, and especially interesting to high school and college age students. It makes for an involved discussion.