The Custom of the Country Revisited

I began to read The Best of Everything, but then I lost interest. And then I thought I’d revisit The Custom of the Country. I felt like I needed a little Undine Spragg in my life. And I wanted to write about The Custom of the Country again, because I feel as though I can express my love for this book better than when I first started my humble little blog.

I’m not sure that I even wrote what The Custom of the Country was about in my first post. Well, here goes: The novel is set, at the beginning, in post-Civil War New York. Young and beautiful (and extremely ambitious) Undine Spragg persuaded her parents to move there from Apex, Kansas, in order for her, Undine, to achieve social success. However, it’s not easy to break into the insular world of New York society. But Undine is nothing if not determined, and after some shrewd moves, she marries Ralph Marvell, a member of one of the old New York families. And that’s where things get interesting. Undine Spragg is the kind of person who has unrepentant ambition, and uses marriage as a substitute of business success that, because she is female, is off limits to her at the time. If Undine Spragg were around today, and actually able to use her mind in a public arena, she’d probably be like Yahoo’s Marissa Mayer or Sheryl Sandberg.

I like to think of The Custom of the Country, The Age of Innocence, and The House of Mirth as Wharton’s trifecta of perfect fiction. I mentioned before that Undine Spragg was a foil for Lily Bart from The House of Mirth. It’s true. Whereas Lily Bart was passive, Undine Spragg was very active. Undine Spragg didn’t let setbacks stand in the way of reaching her goals (and, without being too telling, this is why I needed a little Undine Spragg in my life). I think Lily Bart should have fought back against those who were out to get her. If only Lily Bart had Undine’s spunk…but then again, I must remember that these are fictional characters!

While rereading this book, I realized how the novel really ties together a lot of what I’ve read and seen since I started this blog. Eve Harrington from All About Eve is reminiscent of Undine Spragg. Eve elbows her way into the theater world in the same way that Undine Spragg fights her way into New York society. Both women are shrewd and calculating, although Eve is portrayed as more of a villain than Undine Spragg. I also mentioned in my original TCOTC post that Undine is a bit like Michael Corleone from The Godfather. Both are ruthless when it comes to getting what they want. There’s a line from The Godfather Part II, said to Michael by his wife, that I think also applies to Undine: “I suppose I always knew you were too smart to let any of them ever beat you.” Undine Spragg is also like Cleo Judson from The Living Is Easy. Both women are cunning and, though they are mothers, they are not very maternal. And they like to get shit done and don’t mind stepping on a few feelings to do it.

Also, I love how The Custom of the Country is pretty funny. I think it’s great how Edith Wharton, who was such a classy writer and a paragon of American literature, could be humorous. I believe that the subjects and themes Edith Wharton wrote about are universal, despite being set in a rarefied world. That is why I love her so much. And because she wrote a sentence like this: “Where had she seen before this grotesque saurian head, with eye-lids as thick as lips and lips as thick as ear-lobes?” Love it.

Great passage: Undine, hitherto, had found more benefits than drawbacks in her marriage but now the tie began to gall. It was hard to be criticized for every grasp at opportunity by a man so avowedly unable to do the reaching for her! Ralph had gone into business to make more money for her; but it was plain that the “more” would never be much, and that he would not achieve the quick rise to affluence which was man’s natural tribute to woman’s merits. Undine felt herself trapped, deceived; and it was intolerable that the agent of her disillusionment should presume to be the critic of her conduct.

Up next: The Book Thief

The Age of Innocence…Revisited

Airplane reading...buckle up for safety!

My thoughts: I first got the desire to reread The Age of Innocence a few months ago, when I was writing a short story in which I mentioned the novel. I think everyone needs a little Edith Wharton in their lives from time to time. Here are some things I noticed upon reading this little masterpiece again:

Granny Mingott’s mulatto maid—She’s only mentioned a handful of times, but I am once again intrigued by the mulatto maid of Catherine Mingott, the venerable and very wealthy grandmother of Ellen Olenska and May Welland. How did she end up working for Granny Mingott? What is her background? And what does she think of these sometimes eccentric characters? It’s interesting to see a minority character in this very WASPy world.

Tribe talk—Upon rereading The Age of Innocence, I noticed how often Edith Wharton referred to the rich families of old New York as “tribes.” The word pops up all throughout the novel. The world she writes about is fiercely insular, like any good tribe. But there are people who seem to force their way in, much like high school girls sometimes find ways to infiltrate the popular cliques…

Julius Beaufort—Julius Beaufort is one of those characters who tries to find a way to force his way into society—into the tribe. He is a bit like Simon Rosedale from The House of Mirth. Both sort of exist on the fringe of New York society—not quite part of the tribe. I never wrote about Beaufort in my previous entry about The Age of Innocence. But rereading the book, I noticed that Edith Wharton continuously mentions Beaufort, his wife, and his somewhat shady business deals. His story is almost a secondary one in The Age of Innocence. It reminded me of how Shakespeare, in several of his plays, had a secondary storyline.

I’ve been listening to the Taylor Swift/Ed Sheeran song “Everything Has Changed” a lot lately. The song actually reminds me of the romantic moments between Newland and Ellen. I wonder if Swifty is an Edith Wharton fan…New York magazine once had an article about how The Age of Innocence was the quintessential New York novel. I very much agree. The novel depicts the moment when things begin to change, and “old New York” is shaken to its core. And speaking of New York, one of my favorite moments is when Newland and Ellen are having a private conversation in the brand new Metropolitan Museum of Art. Newland says, “Ah, well—Some day, I suppose, it will be a great Museum.” I think he’s right…

Great passage: Archer felt that at any cost he must keep her beside him, must make her give him the rest of her evening. Ignoring her question, he continued to lean against the chimney-piece, his eyes fixed on the hand in which she held her gloves and fan, as if watching to see if he had the power to make her drop them.

“May guessed the truth,” he said. “There is another woman—but not the one she thinks.”

Ellen Olenska made no answer, and did not move. After a moment he sat down beside her, and, taking her hand, softly unclasped it, so that the gloves and fan fell on the sofa between them.

Up next: Coming of Age in Mississippi

Madame de Treymes

Hey there, Edith...

Author: Edith Wharton

Category: This is one of those stories I’d always seen referenced in the Edith Wharton canon, but this is the first time I’ve read it.

My thoughts: While I think Edith Wharton is the bee’s knees, I have no problem admitting that I have met works of hers that I will never read again. Ethan Frome is at the top of this list. I didn’t like it, and I’m certain I’ll never have any desire to pick it up again (an aside: Ethan Frome was the first Edith Wharton novel I ever read, and I’m so glad that I didn’t form my opinion of her based on that novel.) Having said all of this, “Madame de Treymes” is somewhere in the middle of my Edith-Wharton-like-o’meter (Ethan Frome is on the “Didn’t care for it” side, while the brilliant trifecta of The House of Mirth, The Custom of the Country, and The Age of Innocence are on the “I will sing Edith Wharton’s praises forever” side of the spectrum). I didn’t love it, but it was pretty good. First, a little summary.

“Madame de Treymes” is the story of an American man, John Durham, who wants to help his American-born lover, Fanny de Malrive, obtain a divorce from her French husband so that the two (Durham and Fanny de Malrive) can marry. Fanny, whose title is Madame de Malrive is one of those dollar princesses that crossed the Atlantic Ocean and married Europeans in the late nineteenth century. I get the feeling that, during Wharton’s time in France, she met a lot of American dollar princesses, because it’s a theme that she explores this story, in The Custom of the Country, and in her unfinished novel, The Buccaneers. But Fanny is a more innocent soul than Undine Spragg from The Custom of the Country. And she, Fanny, faces some serious opposition from her husband’s family, who is steeped in tradition and refuses to consent to a divorce, despite Monsieur Malrive’s horrible behavior (it’s never explicitly said what he is guilty of, just as in The Age of Innocence, Count Olenski’s behavior is never revealed). The Malrive family is like the Corleone family (in fact, reading this story reminded me of a Mario Puzo quote: “The strength of a family, like the strength of an army, lies in its loyalty to each other.”) And the Malrive family is quite strong.

This story has elements of The Age of Innocence, The Custom of the Country, and The Portrait of a Lady. Madame de Treymes, the titular character and Madame de Malrive’s sister-in-law, reminded me of Madame Merle from The Portrait of a Lady (there are a lot of “Madams” in the Edith Wharton/Henry James world). Madame de Treymes cut from the same cloth as those intriguing French women one reads about in articles about how to achieve Gallic allure and mystery. She isn’t necessarily beautiful, but she has personality, and she definitely has an air of mystery and intrigue.

“Madame de Treymes” exposes the differences between European and American cultures. Namely, how the American can-do spirit clashes with strong European traditions. If I remember correctly, Henry James also did this in The Europeans, which I read in graduate school, and he definitely did it in The Portrait of a Lady. Also, I’m not sure if "Madame de Treymes" should be categorized as a really short novel, or a long short story. I liked it because it explores themes that Edith Wharton is good at writing about (complicated relationships; Americans moving in European society), but I’m not sure I’ll read it again.

Great passage: She had moved in surroundings through which one could hardly bounce and bang on the genial American plan without knocking the angles off a number of sacred institutions; and her acquired dexterity of movement seemed to Durham a crowning grace. It was a shock, now that he knew at what cost the dexterity had been acquired, to acknowledge this even to himself; he hated to think that she could owe anything to such conditions as she had been placed in.

Up next: Call the Midwife

The Age of Innocence

Fun bookmark!

Author: Edith Wharton

Category: I first read this about 10 years ago, and it ignited my utter love of and complete devotion to Edith Wharton.

My thoughts: It’s such a treat to read this book again! Edith Wharton won a very well-deserved Pulitzer Prize for writing this, and it’s easy to see why. This book is an absolute gem—a great story told by a master.

The main character of The Age of Innocence is Newland Archer, a product of upper-class late-nineteenth-century New York society. He is engaged to another product of this society, May Welland (Winona Ryder played May in the movie version of The Age of Innocence, and I can’t help but picture her as I read the book, even though May has blonde hair in the novel). However, their little world is disrupted by the arrival of Countess Olenska (what a great name), May’s cousin, who decamped to America to escape an abusive husband in Europe. Newland is at first sort of irritated by her presence, but soon becomes intrigued by her. Because she lived abroad most of her life, Ellen Olenska is different in ways that intrigue Archer. For Ellen, I think, Archer represents stability—which she never had during her nomadic upbringing or in her marriage. They fall for each other—but under some very impossible circumstances. Of course, Newland and Ellen are living at a time when divorce is a gigantic no-no. The whole of society seems to be forcing them apart.

I like how Edith Wharton depicts the slow burn of attraction and love that occurs between Newland and Ellen. The two only kiss a couple of times, but each encounter between them is quietly erotic. The Age of Innocence is mainly told from Newland’s point of view, but the novel, I think, is really about the women. Ellen Olenska and May Welland are very intriguing characters. May has the appearance of a placid milquetoast. She’s called childlike several times in the novel, but Wharton also compares her to Diana quite a few times. Toward the end of the book, a part of May’s personality is shown that suddenly renders her more complicated than her image suggests. Ellen Olenksa, for her part, seems like she’d be fun to hang out with. She is smart, loyal, and possesses a very hard-earned wisdom. She is sort like a tougher version of Isabel Archer. And then there’s Granny Mingott, May and Ellen’s venerable old grandmother who says and does the things that only older people can say and do—and get away with.

Another interesting female character is Medora Manson, Ellen and May’s weird aunt, who, if she existed now, would be some sort of New Age former hippie. I love Edith Wharton’s description of her outfit when Newland meets her: “This lady, who was long, lean and loosely put together, was clad in raiment intricately looped and fringed, with plaids and stripes and bands of plain color disposed in a design to which the clue seemed to missing.” Ha! This made me wonder how Edith Wharton would describe the outfits of hipsters.

I never noticed until now how literary The Age of Innocence is. Wharton mentions poetry by Tennyson (yay!), Robert Browning, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and Dante Gabriel Rossetti. It warmed my little English major heart! I got the urge to dig out my Victorian poetry book from grad school and reread “The Lotus Eaters” and “How they brought the good news from Ghent to Aix.” I have to say that although I love Tennyson, I’m not a big fan of “The Lotus Eaters” (neither is May Welland).

I had forgotten how melancholy the last chapter of this novel is. It has a wistful, almost sad tone, but is not maudlin. The last chapter highlights an element that has been prominent character in the entire novel—change. The novel starts in the 1870s and ends and ends about a quarter of a century later. During this time, the elements of change shift the strict mores of New York society, the face of New York itself, and the world outside the insular community in which the characters live.

Great passage: There were certain things that had to be done, and if done at all, done handsomely and thoroughly; and one of these in the old New York code, was the tribal rally around a kinswoman about to be eliminated from the tribe.

Up next: The Shooting Party

The House of Mirth

Author: Edith Wharton

Outdoor reading (which is nice to do before it gets too hot!)

Category: I first read The House of Mirth about 12 years ago—because I thought it was a classy thing to read. And I don’t remember what my impression was. I read it for the second time about three years ago, while unemployed, and I got a whole lot more out of it then. This is the third time I’ve read it (yes, I really have a tendency to reread things).

 My thoughts: Have I mentioned that I think Edith Wharton was a genius and insanely talented? I really really love her! The House of Mirth is a tragic tale of Lily Bart, a woman who, at the beginning of the novel, is at the top of New York society at the turn of the 20^th century. She is groomed to be married, and seems to fight an internal battle over this—she makes efforts to attract wealthy suitors, but then loses interest (is it self-sabotage?) and her chances wither away. Two potential suitors circle her throughout the novel—Lawrence Selden, a sort of middle-class lawyer, and Simon Rosedale, an upstart businessman who is in the process of elbowing his way into society.  I once heard this book described as a Cinderella story in reverse (by whom, I don’t remember). That pretty much sums it up, as Lily experiences a gradual but definite (and heartbreaking) fall from grace.

It’s frustrating that Lily did not have more survival skills. She lacked cunning and the ability to look a reality in the face and deal with it. Other people do wrong by her, but part of Lily’s downfall is her own fault. To me, she needed more toughness and to make better decisions. I think also she does not have the ability to read people, and is a bit naïve. Bertha Dorset, a society maven (and resident mean girl) commits a casual strike against Lily at the beginning of the story. Lily could have learned not to trust her—but instead she puts herself in a situation where she is basically at Bertha’s mercy, and then becomes the victim of a mean betrayal by Mrs. Dorset. I wish that Lily had just married Selden. Or if she didn’t want to be middle class (because Selden was not quite poor), she should have just sucked it up and married one of the dull men whom she had been groomed to marry. Lily kind of wants to have her cake and eat it too, and she is a frustrating heroine. But despite all this, I really feel sorry for her. She is not a villain, and she is not a cruel person. She doesn’t strike back when attacked—which is frustrating, but admirable. I tell you, it’s a great book that can elicit such emotions about a fictional main character!

 It’s also interesting to read this book with Undine Spragg from The Custom of the Country in mind. Undine had the toughness and cunning (too much so, to be sure) that Lily lacked.  Undine Spragg knew how to play the society game. Lily couldn’t and didn’t. At one point, Lily tells her friend, Carry Fisher, “The world is too vile.” “It’s not a pretty place; and the only way to keep a footing in it is to fight it on its own terms,” says Carrie. That’s what our dear Ms. Spragg did. In the end, I think The House of Mirth is a cautionary tale.

 I was reading this book when I travelled to New York recently. There, my mother and I visited the Morgan Library and the Frick Collection—the latter is on Fifth Avenue, which was well trod by Lily Bart in the novel. It was quite nice being in the midst of reading this amazing book (I really do love it) and being in the world that Lily Bart—and Edith Wharton—knew so well.

 Great passage: But it is one thing to live comfortably with the abstract conception of poverty, another to be brought in contact with its human embodiments. Lily had never conceived of these victims of fate otherwise than in the mass. That the mass was composed of individual lives, innumerable separate centres of sensation, with her own eager reachings for pleasure, her own fierce revulsions from pain—that some of these bundles of feeling were clothed in shapes not so unlike her own, with eyes meant to look on gladness, and young lips shaped for love—this discovery gave Lily one of those sudden shocks of pity that sometimes decentralize a life.

 P.S. At a society party that Lily attends, female guests dress up as subjects of famous works of art in a tableaux vivant. Lily dresses up as Mrs. Lloyd by Sir Joshua Reynolds.

Mrs. Lloyd by Sir Joshua Reynolds

When I read this book before, I had no idea who most of the artists were—like Watteau, Kauffman, and Sir Joshua Reynolds himself. But now, after taking an art history class last year, I know about these people! Yay!

 Up next, Snobs by Julian Fellowes

Happy Birthday Edith Wharton!

Photo credit: www.biography.com

In honor of Edith Wharton's birthday (she was born on January 24, 1862), here's another great passage from The Custom of the Country: "Undine did not believe that her husband was seriously in love with another woman--she could not conceive that any one could tire of her of whom she had not first tired..."

The Custom of the Country

Coffee tastes better with a good book.

Category: I read this book about 9 years ago, when I wrote my senior thesis about the theme of marriage in Edith Wharton’s fiction.

My thoughts: Every once in awhile, Edith Wharton strolls into my life to remind me what an absolute rock star she is. Although The Age of Innocence is the first Edith Wharton novel I fell in love with (not the first I read—that was Ethan Frome, which I did not care for), The Custom of the Country is probably my favorite Edith Wharton novel. This is a little odd because the main character, Undine Spragg, is a complete cow. In this novel, Edith Wharton gives us an unflinchingly unlikeable character. To call Undine Spragg selfish is the understatement of the decade. She uses the people around her, including her own parents, to get ahead. She marries and divorces without thought to the consequences of her actions. And yet…it is kind of hard to completely condemn her. As a woman, Undine is denied the opportunity to use her shrewdness and cunning in the business arena like the men around her, so she has to use it in other ways. Although she is a horrible person, she is a very compelling character (a bit like Michael Corleone in The Godfather). And she absolutely refuses to be beaten—she'sdefinitely a survivor. She was sometimes down, but could never be counted out (she is an interesting foil to Lily Bart, a Wharton character from The House of Mirth who I’ll hopefully get a chance to write about here). Also, Undine made me laugh when trash talking a character named Looty Arlington is (and with a name like that, who can blame her?)

When I first read the novel, I was struck by how Edith Wharton was able to portray the notion of how complicated marriage is—that some people fail to think of what married life will be like. Edith Wharton showed what happened after the wedding was over…that the marriage between a rich man and a beautiful woman does not necessarily lead to “happily ever after.” The reader also gets the feeling that Wharton believes people do not take marriage seriously.

I like to think that, in many ways, The Custom of the Country is the also story of the United States at the time. Through Undine Spragg’s story, we see the shift of power from old moneyed families to ruthless nouveau riches clans who elbowed their way to significance, the trend of American “dollar princesses,” newly minted states, and the emergence of the United States as a fledgling world power. In my opinion, The Custom of the Country is a perfect example of what a great writer Edith Wharton was.

Great passage: "The turnings of life seldom show a sign-post; or rather, though the sign is always there, it is usually placed some distance back, like the notices that give warning of a bad hill or a level railway-crossing."


Next up, The Warmth of Other Suns