Winner of the 1921 Pulitzer Prize, The Age of Innocence is an elegant, masterful portrait of desire and betrayal in old New York—now with a new introduction from acclaimed author Colm Tóibín for the novel’s centennial.
With vivid power, Wharton evokes a time of gaslit streets, formal dances held in the ballrooms of stately brownstones, and society people "who dreaded scandal more than disease." This is Newland Archer's world as he prepares to many the docile May Welland. Then, suddenly, the mysterious, intensely nonconformist Countess Ellen Olenska returns to New York after a long absence, turning Archer's world upside down.
This classic Wharton tale of thwarted love is an exuberantly comic and profoundly moving look at the passions of the human heart, as well as a literary achievement of the highest order.
|Publisher:||Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group|
|Series:||Everyman's Library (Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. ) Series|
|Product dimensions:||5.20(w) x 8.30(h) x 1.00(d)|
|Age Range:||14 - 18 Years|
About the Author
Edith Wharton (1862–1937) was an American novelist—the first woman to win a Pulitzer Prize for her novel The Age of Innocence in 1921—as well as a short story writer, playwright, designer, reporter, and poet. Born into one of New York's elite families, she drew upon her knowledge of upper class aristocracy to realistically portray the lives and morals of the Gilded Age.
Date of Birth:January 24, 1862
Date of Death:August 11, 1937
Place of Birth:New York, New York
Place of Death:Saint-Brice-sous-Forêt, France
Education:Educated privately in New York and Europe
Read an Excerpt
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 election, 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 "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, snowy streets in private broughams, in the spacious family landau, or in the humbler but more convenient "Brown coupé." To come to the Opera in a Brown coupé 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-stableman'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 book-cases 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 to come 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, "M'ama!" 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.
"M'ama...non m'ama..." the prima donna sang, and "M'ama", 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 daughter, 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. In the middle distance symmetrical mounds of woolly green moss bounded by croquet hoops formed the base of shrubs shaped like orange-trees but studded with large pink and red roses. Gigantic pansies, considerably larger than the roses, and closely resembling the floral pen-wipers made by female parishioners for fashionable clergymen, sprang from the moss beneath the rose-trees; and here and there a daisy grafted on a rose-branch flowered with a luxuriance prophetic of Mr. Luther Burbank's far-off prodigies.
In the centre of this enchanted garden Madame Nilsson, in white cashmere slashed with pale blue satin, a reticule dangling from a blue girdle, and large yellow braids carefully disposed on each side of her muslin chemisette, listened with downcast eyes to M. Capoul's impassioned wooing, and affected a guileless incomprehension of his designs whenever, by word or glance, he persuasively indicated the ground floor window of the neat brick villa projecting obliquely from the right wing.
"The darling!" thought Newland Archer, his glance flitting back to the young girl with the lilies-of-the-valley. "She doesn't even guess what it's all about? And he contemplated her absorbed young face with a thrill of possessorship in which pride in his own masculine initiation was mingled with a tender reverence for her abysmal purity. "We'll read Faust together...by the Italian lakes..." he thought, somewhat hazily confusing the scene of his projected honeymoon with the masterpieces of literature which it would be his manly privilege to reveal to his bride. It was only that afternoon that May Welland had let him guess that she "cared" (New York's consecrated phrase of maiden avowal), and already his imagination, leaping ahead of the engagement ring, the betrothal kiss and the march from Lohengrin, pictured her at his side in some scene of old European witchery.
He did not in the least wish the future Mrs. Newland Archer to be a simpleton. He meant her (thanks to his enlightening companionship) to develop a social tact and readiness of wit enabling her to hold her own with the most popular married women of the "younger set," in which it was the recognised custom to attract masculine homage while playfully discouraging it. If he had probed to the bottom of his vanity (as he sometimes nearly did) he would have found there the wish that his wife should be as worldly-wise and as eager to please as the married lady whose charms had held his fancy through two mildly agitated years; without, of course, any hint of the frailty which had so nearly marred that unhappy being's life, and had disarranged his own plans for a whole winter.
How this miracle of fire and ice was to be created, and to sustain itself in a harsh world, he had never taken the time to think out; but he was content to hold his view without analysing it, since he knew it was that of all the carefully-brushed, white-waistcoated, buttonhole-flowered gentlemen who succeeded each other in the club box, exchanged friendly greetings with him, and turned their opera-glasses critically on the circle of ladies who were the product of the system. In matters intellectual and artistic Newland Archer felt himself distinctly the superior of these chosen specimens of old New York gentility; he had probably read more, thought more, and even seen a good deal more of the world, than any other man of the number. Singly they betrayed their inferiority; but grouped together they represented "New York," and the habit of masculine solidarity made him accept their doctrine on all the issues called moral. He instinctively felt that in this respect it would be troublesome and also rather bad form to strike out for himself.
"Well upon my soul!" exclaimed Lawrence Lefferts, turning his opera-glass abruptly away from the stage. Lawrence Lefferts was, on the whole, the foremost authority on "form" in New York. He had probably devoted more time than any one else to the study of this intricate and fascinating question; but study alone could not account for his complete and easy competence. One had only to look at him, from the slant of his bald forehead and the curve of his beautiful fair moustache to the long patent-leather feet at the other end of his lean and elegant person, to feel that the knowledge of "form" must be congenital in any one who knew how to wear such good clothes so carelessly and carry such height with so much lounging grace. As a young admirer had once said of him: "If anybody can tell a fellow just when to wear a black tie with evening clothes and when not to, it's Larry Lefferts." And on the question of pumps versus patent-leather "Oxfords" his authority had never been disputed.
"My God!" he said; and silently handed his glass to old Sillerton Jackson.
Newland Archer, following Lefferts's glance, saw with surprise that his exclamation had been occasioned by the entry of a new figure into old Mrs. Mingott's box. It was that of a slim young woman, a little less tall than May Welland, with brown hair growing in close curls about her temples and held in place by a narrow band of diamonds. The suggestion of this headdress, which gave her what was then called a "Josephine look," was carried out in the cut of the dark blue velvet gown rather theatrically caught up under her bosom by a girdle with a large old-fashioned clasp. The wearer of this unusual dress, who seemed quite unconscious of the attention it was attracting, stood a moment in the centre of the box, discussing with Mrs. Welland the propriety of taking the latter's place in the front right-hand corner; then she yielded with a slight smile, and seated herself in line with Mrs. Welland's sister-in-law, Mrs. Lovell Mingott, who was installed in the opposite corner.
Mr. Sillerton Jackson had returned the opera-glass to Lawrence Lefferts. The whole of the club turned instinctively, waiting to hear what the old man had to say; for old Mr. Jackson was as great an authority on"family" as Lawrence Lefferts was on "form." He knew all the ramifications of New York's cousinships; and could not only elucidate such complicated questions as that of the connection between the Mingotts (through the Thorleys) with the Dallases of South Carolina, and that of the relationship of the elder branch of Philadelphia Thorleys to the Albany Chiverses (on no account to be confused with the Manson Chiverses of University Place), but could also enumerate the leading characteristics of each family: as, for instance, the fabulous stinginess of the younger lines of Leffertses (the Long Island ones); or the fatal tendency of the Rushworths to make foolish matches; or the insanity recurring in every second generation of the Albany Chiverses, with whom their New York cousins had always refused to intermarry with the disastrous exception of poor Medora Manson, who, as everybody knew...but then her mother was a Rushworth.
In addition to this forest of family trees, Mr. Sillerton Jackson carried between his narrow hollow temples, and under his soft thatch of silver hair, a register of most of the scandals and mysteries that had smouldered under the unruffled surface of New York society within the last fifty years. So far indeed did his information extend, and so acutely retentive was his memory, that he was supposed to be the only man who could have told you who Julius Beaufort, the banker, really was, and what had become of handsome Bob Spicer, old Mrs. Manson Mingott's father, who had disappeared so mysteriously (with a large sum of trust money) less than a year after his marriage, on the very day that a beautiful Spanish dancer who had been delighting thronged audiences in the old Opera house on the Battery had taken ship for Cuba. But these mysteries, and many others, were closely locked in Mr. Jackson's breast; for not only did his keen sense of honour forbid his repeating anything privately imparted, but he was fully aware that his reputation for discretion increased his opportunities of finding out what he wanted to know.
The club box, therefore, waited in visible suspense while Mr. Sillerton Jackson handed back Lawrence Lefferts's opera-glass. For a moment he silently scrutinised the attentive group out of his filmy blue eyes overhung by old veined lids; then he gave his moustache a thoughtful twist, and said simply: "I didn't think the Mingotts would have tried it on."
Copyright © Copyright 1920 by D. Appleton and Company
Copyright renewed 1948 by William R. Tyler
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements Introduction Edith Wharton: A Brief Chronology A Note on the Text
The Age of Innocence
Appendix A: Wharton’s Outlines
Appendix B: Wharton’s Correspondence About The Age of Innocence
Appendix C: Contemporary Reviews
- Edmund Wilson, “Edith Wharton” (1921)
- Vernon L. Parrington, “Our Literary Aristocrat” (1921)
- Henry Seidel Canby, “Our America” (1920)
- Carl Van Doren, “An Elder America” (1920)
- William Lyon Phelps, “As Mrs.Wharton Sees Us” (1920)
- Times Literary Supplement, “The Age of Innocence” (1920)
- Gilbert Seldes, “The Last Stand” (1921)
Appendix D: From “A Little Girl’s New York”
Appendix E: Wharton and Others on the Status of Women
- Theodore Roosevelt, “Women’s Rights; and the Duties of Both Men and Women” (1912)
- Carrie Chapman Catt, “Why the Federal Amendment?” (1917)
- Emma Goldman, “Marriage and Love” (1911)
- Edith Wharton, “The New Frenchwoman” (1919)
- Edith Wharton, “In Fez” (1920)
Appendix F: Ethnographic Discourse, Victorian to Modern
- Edward B.Tylor, from Primitive Culture (1871)
- John F. McLennan, from Primitive Marriage (1865)
- Sir James George Frazer, “Taboo” (1888)
- Sir James George Frazer, “Our Debt to the Savage” (1911)
- Edward Westermarck, from The History of Human Marriage (1903)
- Edward Westermarck, from The Origin and Development of the Moral Ideas (1906)
- Franz Boas, “The Limitations of the Comparative Method of Anthropology” (1896)
- Elsie Clews Parsons, from Fear and Conventionality (1914)
- Bronislaw Malinowski, from Argonauts of the Western Pacific (1922)
- Ruth Benedict, “The Science of Custom” (1934)
Appendix G: Wharton on Modernity and Tradition
- Notebook entry (c. 1918‒1923)
- From A Backward Glance (1934)
- From Fighting France: From Dunkerque to Belfort (1915)
- From French Ways and Their Meaning (1919)
- From In Morocco (1920)
Reading Group Guide
- Wharton's title was an allusion to a painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds depicting a five-year-old girl. What light does this cast on Wharton's view of the world she was chronicling? Do you think the title is ironic?
- In the early outlines for this novel, Wharton played with the idea of having Newland break his engagement to May and marry Ellen; eventually the two separate and return to their own worlds. Why do you think Wharton, in the end, did not opt for this plot line? What, if she had, would have been different about the "message" of the book? What would you have ultimately thought of the characters?
- What does Wharton reveal about Old New York and about Newland Archer through the characters of Cynthia Mingott, Ned Winsett, Julius Beaufort, Mr. Welland, and Janey?
- Do you agree with Newland Archer that he missed "the flower of life"? What would this other life have been like, if he could have lived it without negative consequences to May or anyone else?
- The Age of Innocence contains both satire and nostalgia for for early twentieth-century New York society. What does Wharton find repellent about old New York? What admirable? How is the relationship between Newland and his son Dallas emblematic of the evolution of Old New York?
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
The Age of Innocence is a thought provoking literary piece which I enjoyed immensely. It is written in a simple, accessible style, yet deeply portrays human emotions and interactions in late 19th century New York City. This novel represents an account of high society life of the 1870s. The events of this novel are wrapped around a prevailing lifestyle of jealousy, shame, and excessive pride which colors the main characters. Not unlike many other segments of the society, then and now, the characters of this novel attempt to disguise these feelings through hypocrisy and deception. In a time where keeping appearances is everything, the protagonist, Newland Archer, is at conflict with himself. He is engaged to May Welland, who represents stability and the traditional high society life. He begins to fall in love, however, with May's cousin, Countess Ellen Olenska. After seeing Ellen and her freedom and spontaneity, he begins to question his life and why he feels the need to conform. He realizes how dull his life is and how materialistic and fake the high society aristocrats are. He loves May, but cannot stand the idea of living such a predictable life with no deeper meaning. In the end, he must choose between living the life he is expected to live with May, or being happy with Ellen, yet ruining the family name.
Loved this book. It gives an incredible view into New York society circa 1890's - all it's rules and duties. Newland Archer's conflict between what he wants to do and what he should do is engaging. It's heartbreaking to see him try to flap his wings only to have them clipped each time. One could say he should have had more character - the character to shun his duty and follow his heart. But it's hard to fault him for being an honorable man.
Newland Archer, a refined gentleman in the strict society of New York City, follows the expectations of others by deciding to lead a life of no excitement or adventure. In order to adhere to the rules of society, Archer decides to marry May Welland, a naïve, uncreative, and ignorant woman who firmly follows the rules of society. However, when May¿s cousin, Countess Olenska, comes to New York to flee from her husband, her rebellious freedom and zealous consciousness of life draw Newland Archer to her. Soon, Archer and the countess develop strong feelings for each other, but they must resist these feelings for social responsibilities. Unexpected meetings continuously occur between the two and the question of whether they will act upon their love is the main plot for this novel. As the wedding of Archer and May approaches, Countess Olenska and Archer decide to never be more than friends for the sake of May and their families. With the forgotten love and the unbearable struggle between Archer and the countess, Edith Wharton illustrates that sacrificing happiness to protect others is not an act of charity or goodness but an act of foolishness for what one loses through sacrifices cannot be regained. With the many ironic situations of uncertainty and captivating passion, The Age of Innocence powerfully portrays ¿a disturbingly accurate picture of men and women caught in a society that denies humanity while desperately defending civilization¿.
A Five Star Ending I've had this book for years but finally got around to reading it, spurred on by the sense that I haven't read enough American classics. I'm awarding 'The Age of Innocence' 4.5 stars and rounding to 4 for practical purposes, although, I must say, I think the ending of the novel is worthy of 5 stars. Why not 5 stars overall? I only award 5 stars to books that I really think will stay with me for life; things I'll want to keep coming back to to read again. 'The Age of Innocence' is such a very good, well-written novel, that the only reason I think it falls short of being in the 5 star category for me is maybe that the extent to which it is an incisive social observation of privileged society in latter-Nineteenth century New York compromises the extent to which it charts a very private and personal -and so timeless- love affair. However, the whole point of the book is an examination of how these private and public spheres of life interconnect (and, indeed, conflict), so I realise that my complaint is somewhat paradoxical! But I did think 'The Age of Innocence' was a great novel and I was struck by the frank modernity of Wharton's writing - perhaps due to the fact that this nineteenth century novel was published in the twentieth century. Towards the end of the book I became preoccupied with how the story would end. In conclusion, I found it ended in the only way it could, given what had gone before. And I thought it a truly five-star ending. I would recommend 'The Age of Innocence' to anyone who enjoys reading novels - it's a great novel.
This Pulitzer-prize winning novel charms from the very beginning. Unlike many contemporaries, Wharton does not dwell on mundane details (unless they contribute to the story) but focuses on character and character development. She is also at ease in the world of New York Society that she describes, having experienced it extensively as a young woman. The story's characters, predictably, are either part of 'New York' or somehow new to it or removed from the rarified air of the uppermost class. Wharton is quite aware of the significance of extreme wealth, family and class, which dominate her story. The Upper Crust wishes to mix, at least a little, with Arty People; but the Arty are generally not Upper, so cannot really mingle. Wharton adroitly demonstrates, over and over, how hypocritical and gossipy the Upper are; say one thing, behave in a different way; smile outwardly, cringe inwardly. Pretend to understand those things you absolutely cannot ken. Perhaps all of American society has seen and experienced these conflicts in a less-Victorian way. The pull of tradition--dictated by the Older Generation--is at odds with characters who think and change, or are free spirits due to extensive time in Europe. Interestingly, Wharton left the US and spent many years in France, divorced her husband at a time when 'it simply wasn't done' (in the US) and seems determined to make her points about Art/Intellectualism vs. Society's Straightjacket. She does so to dazzling effect. Newland Archer, the young protagonist, represents slavish devotion to upperclass ways, until his head and heart are turned by Countess Olenska, who thinks for herself and does not reflect on societal dictates before moving or speaking. Newland, however, is engaged to Perfectly Upper May Welland, and the conflict and story evolve from there. It is a delicious, dizzying, unforgettable journey. Read slowly, it's truly a treasure.
This book is terrific and suprisingly funny. Just a heads up....in a few places the pages are jumbled so you might read all of page 118 and turn to 119 and suddenly be reading a different part of the book then a page or two later it will go back to what you were reading. Very frustrating, paper back would have been better.
A beautiful story that will stay with you forever
Fantastic book. So well written. Edith Wharton was a rare gem among the authors of all time. I also highly recommend the Film adaption directed by Martin Scorsese and starring the amazing Daniel Day-Lewis! You will not be disappointed in either!
The book was wonderful! It led you up to think exactly of what was going to happen. The love triangle is captivating. The entire book up until the last few chapters is wonderful! But!! Beware of the last few chapters for your own anticipation of what will happen and what the book leads you to believe will be broken. The final pieces of the story that are added at the end will make you realize that what the author was hinting at the entire time (the meaning of reality) is what wins in the end.
I had a hard time getting through this book. I kept having the feeling that I was missing parts of conversations; it seemed so much was implied. I would re-read paragraphs and still not get it. The characters are shallow & prissy; I didn't like anyone. If you're looking for beautifully written classics with wonderful characters, read Jane Eyre & The Scarlet Letter.
i have often heard of people crying over books. this is the only one that has ever made me cry.
Convoluted love story embodying the customs of NYC upper crust. It moved too slowly.
Well, I read this for my book club reading. I guess since this is a classic etc. and so highly praised there must be something wrong with me because I found this book VERY boring! I did not like her style of writing where she had three or more things happening in every sentence and thankfully she let up on this style after the first couple of chapters and only back slid to it a couple of times further on in the story. Perhaps this was a favored writing style when this was written but I almost put the book down several times in the beginning (and also after on just from boredom). As it was, I read four other books while reading this just so that I would finish it. Again, the whole book was very boring for me.Classic or not, I would not recommend this book to any of my reading friends. I will be interested to see what feelings my book club fellows have towards this book this next Saturday.
Ya know how many great books are marked by their superb first lines?"Call me Ishmael," for instance, or the bewildering assault of death by firing squad, innocent boyhood, and the discovery of ice that opens the novel One Hundred Years of Solitude?Well, this novel instead marks its greatness through a tension that is consistently and harmoniously carried through the story and to the final lines of its pages. Marital, social, and individual duty paint a discordant melody with each other, and then proceed to sound off against self-deception, false direction, and unavoidably doomed desire.The finale passionately signals multiple notes at once, so that I feel the weight of failure to be true to oneself, the burden of fear, the relief of an acceptance of a fated past, and also the beautiful desire to cherish one's youth and innocence.Let me be a little more specific.The novel is written in two parts, or books. The only bad thing about this was that as much as I really really liked Book 1, I was afraid to read Book 2.Book 1 was elegant in prose and poignantly provoking in its explorations of class, individuality, love, family, community, and honesty. So many of the characters are rich, full beings. Each of the noble characters is at times silly, self-contradictory, petty, naive, vulgar, vain, delightful, etc.I found the biased but thoughtful, idealistic but disillusioned perspective of the narrator-protagonist, the young Newland Archer, disarming. He insists that his fiancée, May, is perfectly--consistently--innocent and kind, when in fact sometimes her innocence is folly. By stubbornly denying this, he mirrors her destructive naiveté.The tragic overtones of the story begin early on, and though I was utterly engrossed in the novel and devoted to the characters, I was afraid of what might happen. Of course there is another woman, one who brings out in Archer some of his most admirable, honest, rebellious, and stupid qualities. I was as enamored with (and at times afraid of) May's beautiful, odd, and compassionate cousin, the Countess Ellen Olenska, as I was comforted (and at times disturbed by) sweet May. And I did not want to find myself cheering for adultery.So it was that I read the first pages of Book 2 four or five times before I finally could bear to head into what I hoped was only the beginning of the end of the story, and not the beginning of the end of Archer.I will say no more, so as not to spoil the book.
Edith Wharton¿s The Age of Innocence, was my favorite read of the summer. I had previously read Ethan Frome which I also enjoyed, but Edith Wharton¿s Pulitzer Prize winning novel was definitely a cut above. The character of Newland Archer is truly a work of art. His internal struggle between fulfilling his societal duty (and staying with his wife May), or running off with his true love (Ellen), is filled with suspense and passion. The emotions of these three main characters seem to emanate from the pages of the novel. Edith Wharton brings the novel to a marvelous (albeit stunning) close, and wonderfully completes the novel. The Age of Innocence is an emotional powerhouse, and a must read for any fan of Wuthering Heights or Middlemarch.
A novel of exceptional beauty and depth. One must understand the culture of Victorian high society in order to truly appreciate its themes.
An okay book. It was my first time reading anything by Edith Wharton. She has a beautiful way of writing, and it was a nice change to read about rich people for once. I understand it was a long time ago, but these people were a bit ridiculas in my opinion! If I were May, I'd be wondering why my fiance was sending another woman roses! I'll still try more of Wharton's work though.
The Age of Innocence is probably one of my favorite books of all time. I read it in college and, because of that and for the sake of time, I have chosen not to re-read the Pulitzer winners that I have already read. But, I couldn't resist writing a short note on this one.Wharton wrote The Age of Innocence after World War I. She reflected back to a time when things really did seem innocent - especially in high society. But, things are not always as they appear and Wharton seeks to make that point. High society in the Victoria era was full of rules and regulations about how one was to act regardless of how one really felt. This is a book that I believe is required reading for all. It is very important to be able to step back, examine society, and see it for what it really is. It is easy to condemn those in the past for their social quirks. It is much harder, if not impossible, to step back from our own society and look at it objectively - to see it for what it really is.
Wharton's tale is a classic story of doomed love, choked to death by a society that values the appearance of truth over truth itself; one that has so successfully deceived itself as to it's true nature, that it has forgotten what it looks like. Wharton's vision is devoid of pretence, yet there's compassion and understanding as well.
I really loved this story, even though I didn't expect to do so. I read it in one sitting at Starbucks- the story gripped me so much that I couldn't put it down! The story in itself is not too complicated- it's the story of a man who loves a sweet, innocent woman until her cousin with a bad marriage and a questionable reputation comes back into the picture. His struggle to do the right thing by both his wife to be and her cousin is difficult to read. I wasn't sure which woman I wanted him to marry.Overall, Wharton appears to have had her finger squarely on the pulse of the society of that day. Our hero does 'the right thing' as they say. However, when faced with the perfect chance to have his heart's greatest desire, he finds himself unable (or unwilling) to reach out and take it- the grip of society is still to strongly at work in him. Though I found the book to be slightly depressing, I enjoyed the realism of Wharton's writing and can't wait to read more of her works!
Yes, I know I should absolutely love it, but I guess as it is told with a man's voice that it didn't grasp me as it should have. I was vcery irritated with what "society" expects and the snobbery. The descriptions of characters and places are delightful though, it was easy to picture in my mind through the printed words.I probably read this many moons ago, but memory fades with time.
A very good read when you have a little time to be patient with Wharton's descriptions of old New York society. The Age of Innocence is a classic angst-filled romance with bit of dry humor hiding beneath the surface. The last third of the book is surprisingly suspenseful. Wharton keeps you guessing just which of the women our protagonist will choose, and the end just might dampen your eyes.
well-written book. newland archer seems set to condition in the path of tradition created by his well-off new york ancestors by marrying, may welland, another descendent of well-off new yorkers. that is until the arrival of her cousin, countess ellen olenska. she rocks newland's world and that of the tight-knit, upper-crust new york society. ellen is off the cuff and unconventional and she draws newland in; his love is not only for her but for that of change and throwing off the shackles that nice, conventional, duty-bound new york has chained him in. may represents all the things of that society and, therefore, doesn't make newland's heart skip a beat but makes him feel he's done what he should and that's what bothers him!wharton draws her characters well (reading the descriptions of old catherine are awesome) and makes you empathize with the deadened spiritual crisis newland fights through in wanting to strike out on his own from the path that's been laid out for him.
Using the main character, Archer Newell, as narrator, the novel superbly describes the aristocracy of New York City of the late 19th century, and nearly ridicules the rigid standards by which they conducted themselves. He is torn between his duties to these traditions, and to breaking these traditions out of both reason and his love for a divorced countess in exile from Europe.
Part of why I love The Age of Innocence so much is for the very reason my students hate it--the subtlety of action in a society constrained by its own ridiculous rules and mores. In Old New York, conformity is key and the upper-crust go about a life of ritual that has no substance or meaning. Both men and women are victims in this world as both are denied economic, intellectual, or creative outlets. All the world's a stage in Wharton's New York and everyone wears a mask of society's creation. Such is the norm until Newland Archer.Symbolically, Newland represents an America on the cusp of modernization, the awkward period of transition between the Victorian era and World War I. At first a devout member of New York aristocracy, Newland is awakened as one from a trance with the arrival of Countess Ellen Olenska. Ellen decides to separate from her abusive husband, Count Olenski, and is rumored to have escaped the Count by having an affair with his secretary--a scandalous circumstance that brings her back home to her native New York. Vibrant, intellectual, and free-spirited when compared with the dowdy and restrained women he's known, Ellen's predicament is a revelation to Newland. As he himself has just ended an affair with a married woman and seen the ease with which society forgave his indiscretion when contrasted with Ellen, Newland begins to acknowledge the inequality amongst the sexes. However, there's a serious roadblock to Newland ever being with the captivating Ellen: Ellen is the cousin of May Welland, Newland's fiancee. Wharton writes with cutting wit about the hypocritical and ludicrous customs of blue blood society and cunningly plots events to work against Newland, the archer whose target is a "new land" in which he and Ellen can be together. The pity is that, ultimately, May proves to be the more cunning huntress who cleverly hunts and traps her quarry in the labyrinth of society.