Yet another trip abroad ensured that a wonderful book remained firmly in my suitcase, sadly only partly read. The occasion this time was a spontaneous weekend trip to Dublin to see a friend; an opportunity to appreciate the divine Georgian architecture, cram into the lively bars, and spend as little money as possible, as we are, of course, poor students. Resuming the novel, however, at the airport, before my flight home, had the power to utterly rejuvenate my rather exhausted spirits, and I remained enthralled by The House of Mirth and its vivacious, yet deliciously tragic heroine for the duration of the flight and the train home.Edith Wharton is a name that resonates faintly in my knowledge as someone I have heard of, but never read. Both The House of Mirth and The Age of Innocence are on the reading list for my ‘American Fiction’ module - the only reason I reached for this one first was because of its cover – an enigmatic and captivating woman in an extravagant dress. In this instance, this is a case of judging a book by its cover, as it is, in short, what the novel is about. Lily Bart is the darling of New York society – graceful, unreservedly charming and very beautiful indeed. Intriguingly, Wharton ensures the reader sees very clearly the artifice behind her allure – yet this does nothing to dispel the reader’s liking for Lily. She is, after all, poor, compared to her circle of friends, and has to work every attraction she has to avoid being cast out. When the reader is introduced to her, she is in the process of tempting an uninteresting yet incredibly rich man to marry her. Lily is unashamedly drawn to money – to her, it is the most important thing in the world. She believes it keeps her happy and safe, although this belief is strongly tested throughout the novel, and eventually leads to her downfall. No matter how unfortunate her fate, Wharton draws the reader on as they wonder whether Lily will ever find the true key to happiness.
Despite the apparent seriousness of plot, The House of Mirth is a very readable book. At once a tantalising glimpse of the gilded age of American society, and a wry and intense satire on the triviality and shallowness of the people involved, its casual language is a joy to read. I suppose Wharton is almost Austenesque in her subtle social commentary – gently mocking the officious elderly aunts of the world, the desperate social climbers and the maidish spinsters. There is a different dimension, however, to pure ridicule; one gains the sense that it is the façade that Wharton despises so, not the people themselves. The characters’ motives become clear and the polished circle of New Yorkers seems instead to be in a Darwinian struggle for survival, one that drags people under while propelling others to the top.
Running throughout the novel, which is primarily a tale of Lily’s efforts to keep up appearances despite increasing debt, is a love story. Lawrence Selden is the one man who can see through Lily’s carefully constructed airs (though sometimes misguidedly), and love her nevertheless. The reader wills them together, and Wharton teases by drawing them close, and parting them time and time again. I shall leave it a mystery as to whether Lily can ever overcome the thrall of money and find her way to love, and I hope this inspires you to take up the novel and begin it yourself!
Overall, a topping novel. It makes me long to experience the thrill of New York before the turn of the century, and it makes me fear it as well. The two-faced heiresses and brusque men repulse me just as much as the whirlwind of parties and lighthearted conversation attracts. What makes this novel more than just a biting social commentary is the personal and poignant story of Lily – she charms the reader just as she charms many of the male characters themselves – though whether her story ends happily I shall leave to the reader to discover.
