House of Mirth Review
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I just sort of stumbled upon this book recently: the price was right -- .00 from Dover! I was not expecting much, although I like Wharton. The subject matter seemed unpromising: the hedonistic rich and their hangers-on. But the quality of the writing kept me going, and the character of Lily Bart was intriguing. By the time I was finished, I was moved enough to do something I rarely do: start over at the beginning. This time the book opened up for me with increasing pleasure and, indeed, awe. How a mere mortal is able to write with such authority about so many facets of life, fabricate a hugely complex social tapestry while all the while keeping the story moving, and create a flawed but achingly noble and sympathetic character out of mere words on a page - is beyond me. So I just indulged. Here is the case study par excellence of inexorable fate determined by upbringing, character, and circumstances. Lily Bart is perhaps the most exquisitely drawn character in all of literature, and her memory will stay with me forever.
There is, however, one fly in the ointment ... and one that is found frequently in great literature, alas. The book is blatantly anti-Semitic. One of the main characters is Simon Rosedale, who is slimy like so many others in Lily's circle but who has the distinction of being described several times as representative of his "race." For example:
"He had his race's accuracy in the appraisal of values, and to be seen walking down the platform at the crowded afternoon hour in the company of Miss Lily Bart would have been money in his pocket, as he might himself have phrased it." (bk 1, ch. 2)
"Rosedale, with that mixture of artistic sensibility and business astuteness which characterizes his race ..." (bk 1, ch. 2)
"He knew he should have to go slowly, and the instincts of his race fitted him to suffer rebuffs and put up with delays." (bk 1, ch 11)
The book in fact adopts an exceedingly conflicted view of this fellow. For Wharton attributes some very touching qualities to this man, such that he turns out to be one of the few sympathetic figures in the book. On the other hand, there is the definite suggestion that Rosedale represents the utter depths to which Lily may have to descend in order to maintain the style of life she seems to require. That would be fine (plot-wise) if Rosedale were portrayed simply as an individual or even as a type. But ... as typical of his race? Hmm. Rosedale emits some quality that causes almost visceral disgust in Lily (and her set), even when she can recognize his kindly features; yet that quality is simply to be understood rather than defined, probably because it is little more than the subjective projection of society's prejudice.
House of Mirth Overview
From the esteemed author of The Age of Innocence--a black comedy about vast wealth and a woman who can define herself only through the perceptions of others. Lily Bart's quest to find a husband who can satisfy her cravings for endless admiration and all the trappings of the rich comes to a scandalous end when she is accused of being a wealthy man's mistress. (Literature/Classics)
House of Mirth Specifications
"The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning; but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth," warns Ecclesiastes 7:4, and so does the novel by Edith Wharton that takes its title from this call to heed. New York at the turn of the century was a time of opulence and frivolity for those who could afford it. But for those who couldn't and yet wanted desperately to keep up with the whirlwind, like Wharton's charming Lily Bart, it was something else altogether: a gilded cage rather than the Gilded Age.
One of Wharton's earliest descriptions of her heroine, in the library of her bachelor friend and sometime suitor Lawrence Selden, indicates that she appears "as though she were a captured dryad subdued to the conventions of the drawing room." Indeed, herein lies Lily's problem. She has, we're told, "been brought up to be ornamental," and yet her spirit is larger than what this ancillary role requires. By today's standards she would be nothing more than a mild rebel, but in the era into which Wharton drops her unmercifully, this tiny spark of character, combined with numerous assaults by vicious society women and bad luck, ultimately renders Lily persona non grata. Her own ambivalence about her position serves to open the door to disaster: several times she is on the verge of "good" marriage and squanders it at the last moment, unwilling to play by the rules of a society that produces, as she calls them, "poor, miserable, marriageable girls.
Lily's rather violent tumble down the social ladder provides a thumbnail sketch of the general injustices of the upper classes (which, incidentally, Wharton never quite manages to condemn entirely, clearly believing that such life is cruel but without alternative). From her start as a beautiful woman at the height of her powers to her sad finale as a recently fired milliner's assistant addicted to sleeping drugs, Lily Bart is heroic, not least for her final admission of her own role in her downfall. "Once--twice--you gave me the chance to escape from my life and I refused it: refused it because I was a coward," she tells Selden as the book draws to a close. All manner of hideous socialite beasts--some of whose treatment by Wharton, such as the token social-climbing Jew, Simon Rosedale, date the book unfortunately--wander through the novel while Lily plummets. As her tale winds down to nothing more than the remnants of social grace and cold hard cash, it's hard not to agree with Lily's own assessment of herself: "I have tried hard--but life is difficult, and I am a very useless person. I can hardly be said to have an independent existence. I was just a screw or a cog in the great machine I called life, and when I dropped out of it I found I was of no use anywhere else." Nevertheless, it's even harder not to believe that she deserved better, which is why The House of Mirth remains so timely and so vital in spite of its crushing end and its unflattering portrait of what life offers up. --Melanie Rehak
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Customer Reviews
Great description of victorian society! - CoraPersephone - pittsburgh
One of Wharton's greatest gifts is making her characters seem so alive, and of getting the reader involved with their thoughts and feelings. She is great at describing the psychological processes of her heroine, Lilly Bart, who is compelling as a woman trying to find her way in a society that she both covets and finds superficial. Reading the novel, I could feel what Lilly was feeling, and her thought process made perfect sense from my perspective, I was so involved in her story that I could not put the book down. The narrative is flawless from beginning to end, Wharton having the gift of being romantic without being sentimental (a very hard task for woman writers) and she delivers a wonderful story. The ending made me cry, and I appreciate its realism and it caught me by surprise, Wharton is definitely one to cater to romantic whims or the idealistic desires of her readers.
Very Moving - Dan Carrison - Santa Clarita, CA USA
I cannot comment on this particular edition, but felt compelled to review the novel anyway, in the hope that others will read it.
I didn't think I would feel sympathy for Lily, but I don't think I've ever wanted to help a character in any novel as much as I wanted to save Lily. I didn't exactly fall in love with her; frankly she is not my cup of tea. But I desperately wanted to see her happy.
For days I was affected by the end. I was very, very moved.
That said, I do not accept Edith Wharton's sense of determinism; nor do I accept the basic plot, with its scarcity of men. Lily is the most beautiful woman in New York and there are only two or three obnoxious men she can choose from? I found that hard to swallow. I also found it difficult to accept that (even for an unaccomplished woman) it was either a life of frivolity with the rich set, or a life of impoverished loneliness. Even in 1905 there were more alternatives. Lily, for example, could have learned her lesson that the rich were leading shallow lives, and still have found happiness on a lower social scale with a hard working doctor, or a military officer, etc. She also could have left New York and struck out West.
I love the writing of Edith Wharton. And I've read most of her works. But I don't buy the determinism; and I think it was a little strained in this novel.
But Lily is unforgettable.
Protagonist, Blame Thyself - Gary Schroeder -
High American society, New York, turn of the 19th century: Lily Bart, an associate of the well-heeled who often attends their social functions, has no fortune of her own. What to do? Marry into money. This should be easy enough for Lily as she's found to be beautiful by many of the men who orbit about her, but she seems to have no interest in them. She longs for the trappings of aristocratic life but is unwilling to accept the sacrifices attendant to marrying simply for position. Letting one too many opportunities slip by, and being embroiled in a couple of social faux pases along the way, she eventually finds that she's been dumped by polite society, facing penury in a boarding house.
House of Mirth is of course beautifully written, though the plot moves quite slowly with few truly dramatic punctuations. Lily is a largely unsympathetic character whose motives are not easy to understand and whose actions are often frustrating. Indeed, many of the misfortunes that befall her seem to be of her own making.
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