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

Off topic: Roman Holiday

In The Portrait of a Lady, Gilbert Osmond and Isabel Archer live in Rome after their marriage. This reminded me of Roman Holiday, which I decided to watch again (for the umpteenth time).

Category: One of my favorite movies

 My thoughts: What a great film! It’s genuinely funny and sweet but not saccharine. Audrey Hepburn is Princess Ann, a young royal from an unnamed European country who is on a tour of goodwill throughout the continent. In Rome, she decides to play hooky from her stifling royal duties. Here, she meets Joe Bradley (played by a gorgeous Gregory Peck), an American news reporter living in Rome. He tags along with her, and the two traipse around postwar Rome and slowly fall for each other. Here’s the catch—Joe knows Ann’s true identity and could potentially make a lot of money selling his story about his adventures with a runaway princess. While watching this movie again, I started to wonder, in this age of social media and paparazzi, if a princess could get away with such a thing these days.

 Both Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck are great in this movie (in fact, Hepburn won an Academy Award for her role as Princess Ann). It’s interesting that these aren’t the “iconic” roles for these two—that being Breakfast at Tiffany’s for Hepburn and To Kill a Mockingbird for Peck. In fact, it’s kind of funny to see Gregory Peck play a character that’s not so morally perfect as Atticus Finch. Joe Bradley is a bit rogue-ish. At one point, he tries to steal a young girl’s camera!

 Eddie Albert (from Green Acres) is also in Roman Holiday, playing Joe’s photographer friend Irving. Also, the city of Rome is very much a character in the movie. I read somewhere that the director wanted to shoot on location in Rome, which was more expensive than filming the movie at the Hollywood studio, so, to cut costs, he filmed to movie in black and white because it was cheaper than filming in color. The architecture of the city is really beautiful.  I’m really struck by the fact that the movie is set in postwar Rome. It gives a sense of gravitas to the movie—there is a sense that the city was trying to get back on its feet. However, this movie is not as serious as another movie set in postwar Rome, the incredibly brilliant The Bicycle Thief.

 In writing this, I thought of a similarity between Roman Holiday and The Portrait of a Lady. Like Isabel Archer, Princess Ann makes a grown-up decision—that is, to return to her duty of being a royal and not run off with the handsome American reporter. The end of the movie is bittersweet. But it reminds me of a quote I once read by Catherine Deneuve—“Pleasure is something you can cultivate, even if the rewards are strong but fleeting.”

 Great line (uttered by Princess Ann): "Rome. By all means, Rome."

 If that line doesn’t make sense, by all means, you should watch the movie!

The Portrait of a Lady

Waiting-room reading

The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James

Category: I started this book in the summer of 2010, read about 200 pages, then stopped. I picked it up again at the beginning of 2011, read about 100 pages, and stopped again. At last, I’ve finished reading it!

 My thoughts: This is an intriguing book. It’s a great story and is really beautifully written, but it’s not exactly what one would call a page turner—at least not until the last 150 or so pages. It is not a boring book, but there were a couple of times I had to encourage myself to stick with it, and I’m glad I did. It’s an amazing reading experience. However, if finishingWashington Square left me in a somber mood, finishing The Portrait of a Lady made me downright sad.

 The lady in The Portrait of a Lady is Isabel Archer, who I think has one of the most beautiful names in literature. Isabel has a lot going for her, but she lacks street smarts. My favorite character is Ralph Touchett, Isabel’s infirm cousin, who she meets for the first time when her aunt, Ralph’s mother, brings her to England (Ralph has tuberculosis, and I thought of him when I recently read an article about how there is currently a strain of TB that doesn’t respond to most medication. Yikes!). To me, Ralph is truly the heart of this story. Isabel turns down marriage proposals by two suitable suitors, Caspar Goodwood (a Bostonian) and Lord Warburton (an Englishman), because she does not want to give up her independence so soon. She meets the mysterious Gilbert Osmond on her very independent travels throughout Europe, and a union between the two is encouraged by Madame Merle, Osmond’s creepy “friend.” Isabel marries Osmond and settles in Rome. Ralph, like Catherine Sloper’s father in Washington Square, is against the marriage. Isabel, unlike Catherine Sloper, marries the person about whom others have expressed doubts. After the wedding, Osmond’s true evil nature reveals itself (isn’t it always after the wedding?), and Madame Merle’s motives are also revealed. These two are truly horrid people. Isabel is confronted with the fact that she made a bad decision. And she decides to live with it. It’s the grown-up thing to do, but as a reader, you really feel for her.

 Because I read them back to back, The Portrait of a Lady and Washington Square are linked in my mind. Henry James uses the same technique of addressing the reader that he uses in Washington Square, with the same result of making the reader feel invested in the story. However, I think The Portrait of a Lady showcases James’s brilliant writing skills better than Washington Square. Edith Wharton and Henry James get compared to each other a lot. Like Wharton, James writes about what happens after the wedding. And both authors, it seems, preferred realistic endings to traditionally happy ones. But I think I will always prefer Edith Wharton. Around page 450 or so of The Portrait of a Lady, I thought that I probably wouldn’t reread it. But after I finished the book, I changed my mind. But I would like to reread it in the same manner in which I originally read it—dropping in occasionally to see what the characters are doing.

 P.S. One benefit of finishing this book now is that I get a lot of the art history references that previously went right over my head, because I took an art history class last year. It’s quite a nice feeling to know who Henry James is talking about when he mentions Bernini and Caracci. Also, this novel reminds me of Madame X, by John Singer Sargent.

Great passage (Ralph says this to Isabel): “Don’t ask yourself so much whether this or that is good for you. Don’t question your conscience so much—it will get out of tune like a strummed piano. Keep it for great occasions. Don’t try so much to form your character—it’s like trying to pull open a tight, tender young rose. Live as you like best, and your character will take care of itself.”

Up next, Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe