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The Age of Innocence (Modern Library Classics) (Paperback)
by Edith Wharton
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MSL Pointer Review:
This quintessential love story of Old New York is a book to be savored. Really moving is the prose, and the haunting, nostalgic and sad story telling. |
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Author: Edith Wharton
Publisher: Modern Library
Pub. in: March, 1999
ISBN: 0375753206
Pages: 304
Measurements: 8.0 x 5.2 x 0.8 inches
Origin of product: USA
Order code: BA00446
Other information: 1999 Moder edition
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- Awards & Credential -
A winner of Pulitzer Prize |
- MSL Picks -
When Edith Wharton published The Age of Innocence in 1920, she was writing of an age from her youth, one that had strict rules of conduct, one that punished those who flouted those rules, and one that rewarded those who broke them but had the good sense to do so quietly. The New York of the 1870s was just such an age. The upper echelons were peopled by the first and second generation newly rich. Those who counted knew everyone else who counted too. Such people lived lives that were unconnected to their more poverty-stricken brethren who lived away from the tree-lined terraces on Park Avenue. The married men were expected to have their sleazy affairs. The married women were expected to tolerate them. Single women were expected to get ready to become married women, knowing all the while the rules of the game.
Into just such a society, lawyer Newland Archer lives and works. He is one of the "innocents" of the title. He is ready to marry but in his innocence he plans to remain faithful. His world is ordered and logical. Enter his fiancé, May Welland. She too is innocent but her innocence is not the same as Newland's. Where he believes in the magic of the rabbit being pulled from the hat, May sees very well the hat's false bottom. May has been brought up to be a more rigidly stratified Stepford Wife, one who marries a man she knows will cheat on her, but her consolation is that, according to the Rules of the Game, his cheating must be covert and cannot lead to divorce. As long as both spouses play by the rules, everyone is reasonably happy and the System functions. Enter, Countess Ellen Olenska, a married cousin of May who visits her, meets Newland, and sparks fly. It would be perfectly acceptable for Ellen to tacitly cast a blind eye should Newland and Ellen commence a discrete affair, but for that to happen, the unspoken consensus must be that the affair cannot lead beyond the physical level. For if it were to go beyond that, then the Rules are threatened and the entire flimsy house of cards come crashing down. Ellen and Newland are tempted to have their affair, but they do not because they know that once they do, feelings take over and neither is strong enough to carry on with their hearts tugging one way but their bodies another. What Newland does do is to place his love for Ellen in an internal shrine and there it stays, year after year, neither growing nor shrinking. Eventually, after May has died and Newland is freed from the Rules, he can pick up the pieces even many years later. He and his adult son travel to Paris to see Ellen, but when the son walks into her apartment, Newland does not. Newland has lived with the shrine of love for so long in his heart that he prefers the image of a youthful Ellen to the reality of an aged one.
The Age of Innocence is a novel marked by the clashing of many tragedies, all of which had been erected to allow a rich society to function with minimal friction, but in the crushing of hope for May, Ellen, and Newland, this friction has morphed into a disintegration of all that good people hold dear. For these self-deluding scions of society, the cost is clearly far too high.
(By quoting Martin Asiner, USA)
Target readers:
General readers
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Edith Wharton (1862-1937) was born into a distinguished New York family and was educated privately in the United States and abroad. Among her best-known work is Ethan Frome (1911), which is considered her greatest tragic story, The House of Mirth (1905), and The Age of Innocence (1920), for which she was awarded the Pulitzer Prize.
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From the Publisher:
Newland Archer saw little to envy in the marriages of his friends, yet he prided himself that in May Welland he had found the companion of his needs - tender and impressionable, with equal purity of mind and manners. The engagement was announced discreetly, but all of New York society was soon privy to this most perfect match, a union of families and circumstances cemented by affection.
Enter Countess Olenska, a woman of quick wit sharpened by experience, not afraid to flout convention and determined to find freedom in divorce. Against his judgment, Newland is drawn to the socially ostracized Ellen Olenska, who opens his eyes and has the power to make him feel. He knows that in sweet-tempered May, he can expect stability and the steadying comfort of duty. But what new worlds could he discover with Ellen? Written with elegance and wry precision, Edith Wharton's Pulitzer Prize-winning masterpiece is a tragic love story and a powerful homily about the perils of a perfect marriage.
Commentary by William Lyon Phelps and E. M. Forster
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Book One
Chapter One
On a January evening of the early seventies, Christine Nilsson was singing in Faust at the Academy of Music in New York.
Though there was already talk of the erection, in remote metropolitan distances "above the Forties," of a new Opera House which should compete in costliness and splendour with those of the great European capitals, the world of fashion was still content to reassemble every winter in the shabby red and gold boxes of the sociable old Academy. Conservatives cherished it for being small and inconvenient, and thus keeping out the it new people" whom New York was beginning to dread and yet be drawn to; and the sentimental clung to it for its historic associations, and the musical for its excellent acoustics, always so problematic a quality in halls built for the hearing of music.
It was Madame Nilsson's first appearance that winter, and what the daily press had already learned to describe as "an exceptionally brilliant audience " had gathered to hear her, transported through the slippery snow streets in private broughams, in the spacious family landau, or in the humbler but more convenient "Brown coupe"' To come to the Opera in a Brown coupe was almost as honourable a way of arriving as in one 's own carriage; and departure by the same means had the immense advantage of enabling one (with a playful allusion to democratic principles) to scramble into the first Brown conveyance in the line, instead of waiting till the cold and - gin congested nose of one's own coachman gleamed under the portico of the Academy. It was one of the great livery-lstableman's most masterly intuitions to have discovered that Americans want to get away from amusement even more quickly than they want to get to it.
When Newland Archer opened the door at the back of the club box the curtain had just gone up on the garden scene. There was no reason why the young man should not have come earlier, for he had dined at seven, alone with his mother and sister, and had lingered afterward over a cigar in the Gothic library with glazed black-walnut bookcases and finial- topped chairs which was the only room in the house where Mrs. Archer allowed smoking. But, in the first place, New York was a metropolis, and perfectly aware that in metropolises it was "not the thing" to arrive early at the opera; and what was or was not "the thing" played a part as important in Newland Archer's New York as the inscrutable totem terrors that had ruled the destinies of his forefathers thousands of years ago.
The second reason for his delay was a personal one. He had dawdled over his cigar because he was at heart a dilettante, and thinking over a pleasure tocome often gave him a subtler satisfaction than its realisation. This was especially the case when the pleasure was a delicate one, as his pleasures mostly were; and on this occasion the moment he looked forward to was so rare and exquisite in quality that-well, if he had timed his arrival in accord with the prima donna's stage-manager he could not have entered the Academy at a more significant moment than just as she was singing: "He loves me-he loves me not-he loves me!" and sprinkling the falling daisy petals with notes as clear as dew.
She sang, of course, "Mama!" and not "he loves me," since an unalterable and unquestioned law of the musical world required that the German text of French operas sung by Swedish artists should be translated into Italian for the clearer understanding of English-speaking audiences. This seemed as natural to Newland Archer as all the other conventions on which his life was moulded: such as the duty of using two silver-backed brushes with his monogram in blue enamel to part his hair, and of never appearing in society without a flower (preferably a gardenia) in his buttonhole.
"Mama… non mama the prima donna sang, and "Mama!", with a final burst of love triumphant, as she pressed the dishevelled daisy to her lips and lifted her large eyes to the sophisticated countenance of the little brown Faust-Capoul, who was vainly trying, in a tight purple velvet doublet and plumed cap, to look as pure and true as his artless victim.
Newland Archer, leaning against the wall at the back of the club box, turned his eyes from the stage and scanned the opposite side of the house. Directly facing him was the box of old Mrs. Manson Mingott, whose monstrous obesity had long since made it impossible for her to attend the Opera, but who was always represented on fashionable nights by some of the younger members of the family. On this occasion, the front of the box was filled by her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Lovell Mingott, and her niece, Mrs. Welland; and slightly withdrawn behind these brocaded matrons sat a young girl in white with eyes ecstatically fixed on the stagelovers. As Madame Nilsson's "M'ama!" thrilled out above the silent house (the boxes always stopped talking during the Daisy Song) a warm pink mounted to the girl's cheek, mantled her brow to the roots of her fair braids, and suffused the young slope of her breast to the line where it met a modest tulle tucker fastened with a single gardenia. She dropped her eyes to the immense bouquet of lilies of-the-valley on her knee, and Newland Archer saw her white-gloved finger-tips touch the flowers softly. He drew a breath of satisfied vanity and his eyes returned to the stage.
No expense had been spared on the setting, which was acknowledged to be very beautiful even by people who shared his acquaintance with the Opera houses of Paris and Vienna. The foreground, to the footlights, was covered with emerald green cloth.
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View all 7 comments |
Gore Vidal (MSL quote), USA
<2007-01-10 00:00>
There is no woman in American literature as fascinating as the doomed Madame Olenska… Traditionally, Henry James has always been placed slightly higher up the slope of Parnassus than Edith Wharton. But now that the prejudice against the female writer is on the wane, they look to be exactly what they are: giants, equals, the tutelary and benign gods of our American literature. |
E. M. Forster (MSL quote), USA
<2007-01-10 00:00>
Will writers ever recover that peculiar blend of security and alertness which characterizes Mrs. Wharton and her tradition? |
Meghan Alred (MSL quote), USA
<2007-01-10 00:00>
Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence is a stunning tale of love and loss, entangled in the superficial New York society of the 1870s. The novel focuses on Newland Archer and his conflict between his love for unconventional Countess Olenska and his devotion to "nice" May Welland, his betrothed. The interactions of the characters are beautifully written, but the plot drags in some parts. Countess Olenska's mystery and scandal is introduced early causing the reader to be intrigued about her fate. On the other hand, May is the canon New York young woman. She adheres to society's binding rules, and consequently never fully develops an inquisitive mind like Olenska's. Archer's strong and often feministic opinions overshadow May's almost boring character. He wants May to know of the world and be an independent thinker. My favorite character is Madame Olenska because she is feisty, passionate, and unconventional. She and Newland fall in love after he's already announced his engagement to her cousin, May. My favorite aspect of the story is Newland's internal struggle between what he desires and what society wants for him because it is fast paced and lively, compared to the external plot. This book is for the patient reader because the plot moves slowly. The story's hold on me was from my desire to know if Newland ended up with May or Countess Olenska. This conflict was the only thing that kept me intrigued. New York society's haughty and hypocritical attitude enraged me because it was hindering Countess Olenska's happiness with Archer. Though I feel the plot could have been livelier, I still recommend this book. The unfolding of Archer and Countess Olenska's intricate relationship and character make the novel worth plodding through. I suggest this book to anyone who enjoys 19th century romance and complicated internal struggles in the characters. The story has its ironic and comical parts as well. For example, it is ironic that the women parade the fa ade that they are innocent and pure, but actually complain and gossip. These situations help liven the tiresome plot. However, if you did not like Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, I doubt that you will appreciate this story because it moves at a much slower pace. It can also be frustrating because society forbids Countess Olenska and Newland Archer to act upon their love for each other. Despite these problems, I still recommend the book because of its strong message against superficiality. Through the characters, Wharton depicts how complicated life becomes when you are not honest with yourself and those around you. Therefore The Age of Innocence is an emotional novel that will leave you frustrated, upset, and filled with awe. |
E. A. Solinas (MSL quote), USA
<2007-01-10 00:00>
Nobody knew the hypocrises of "old New York" better than Edith Wharton, and nobody portrayed them as well. In The Age of Innocence, Wharton took readers on a trip through the stuffy upper crust of 1870s New York, wrapped up in a hopeless love affair.
Newland Archer, of a wealthy old New York family, has become engaged to pretty, naive May. But as he tries to get their wedding date moved up, he becomes acquainted with May's exotic cousin, Countess Olenska, who has returned home after dumping her cheating count husband. At first, the two are friends, but then they become something more.
After Newland marries May, the attraction to the mysterious Countess and her free, unconventional life becomes even stronger. He starts to rebel in little ways, but he's still mired in a 100% conventional marriage, job and life. Will he become an outcast and go away with the beautiful countess, or will he stick with May and a safe, dull life?
There's nothing too scandalous about The Age of Innocence in a time when J.Lo acquires and discards boyfriends and husbands like old pantyhose. Probably it wasn't in the 1920s, when the book was first published. But this isn't a book to read if you appreciate sexiness and steam - instead it's a social satire, a bittersweet romance, and a look at what happens when human beings lose all spontaneity and passion.
Wharton brings old New York to life in this book - opulent, beautiful, cultured, yet empty and kind of boring. It is "where the real thing was never said or done or even thought," so tied up in tradition that nobody there really lives. And even though the unattainable countess is beautiful and sweet, it becomes obvious after awhile that Newland is actually in love with the idea of breaking out of his conventional life.
Wharton's writing is a bit like a giant rosebud - it takes forever to fully open. So don't be discouraged by the endless conversations about flowers, ballrooms and gloves. Wharton put them in to illustrate her point about New York at that time, and all the stories about different families, scandals and customs are actually very important.
Newland seems like a rather boring person, since he only has brief bursts of individuality. But he gets more interesting when he struggles between his conscience and his longing for freedom. May is (suitably) pallid and a bit dull, while the Countess is alluringly mysterious and unconsciously rebellious. The fact that she doesn't TRY to rebel makes her far more interesting than Newland.
The Age of Innocence considered a story about a man in love with an unattainable woman, but it's also about that man straining against a stagnant, hypocritical society. Rich, intriguing and beautifully written. |
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