(Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com:]. I am the original author of this essay, as well as the owner of CCLaP; it is not being reprinted here illegally.)The CCLaP 100: In which I read a hundred so-called "classics" for the first time, then write essays on whether or not they deserve the label. The Age of Innocence is book number 29 in this series.The story in a nutshell:To truly get the full implications of The Age of Innocence, it's of crucial importance to understand the following: that although it's set in 1870 (during the height of Victorianism), it wasn't written and published until fifty years later, in 1920 (the beginning of Modernism), an older Edith Wharton looking back on her youth but with a thoroughly contemporary eye. And the reason that's important is that the novel itself is a look at a New York that didn't exist anymore even in the year the book first came out, thus making it enjoyed from the first day for the same historical reasons we do here in the 21st century -- an impossibly quaint and provincial Manhattan that was still barely developed above 25th Street or so, where the only people to be found in the area now known as "Midtown" were a small incestuous circle of the upper-class, an American version of the old British aristocracy held together through such Atlantic Seaboard touchstones as business associations, Ivy League schools, summering in Newport, and family names that stretch back to the Mayflower. Back in the late 1800s, the area around what is now Central Park was still considered a far suburb of New York "proper" (that is, everything below Houston Avenue), the only people there this inbred group of old money, living in their gigantic mansions tucked within what was still at the time half-wilderness, and coming up with an elaborate set of rules and unspoken etiquette to determine how their entire complicated society would work (with the worst fate imaginable being collectively "snubbed" by the members of this clique, suddenly losing access to all the resources that made up your lifestyle in the first place, party invitations and club memberships and private boxes at the opera).It's within this environment that we watch the fate of young forward-thinking chap Newland Archer, a true Victorian gentleman if there ever was one: educated, cultured, with a natural head for both business and science, even with a perfect if not old-fashioned fiancee, the bubbly and slightly dimwitted May Welland (youngest adult member of the Mingott clan, one of the "major families" holding this convoluted upper-class society together, with the grouchy and headstrong Mrs. Manson Mingott as its matriarch, holder of all the family's money and therefore all the family's power). But, see, Newland and his pals have been talking a lot recently about this so-called "New Woman," the redefinition of femininity that was taking place among educated youth during this period in history; a new understanding about marriage where young wives were expected to be not only as educated as their husbands, but also as political and as bawdy, spending their days protesting in the streets for suffrage and bringing their uninhibited desires to the boudoir at night. It's not that Newland doesn't love May, a fact that Wharton goes out of her way to show throughout the book; it's just that when he meets her cousin Ellen one night, aka "Countess Olenska" -- one of these New Women who ran off to Europe and married into the actual Prussian nobility, just to have the marriage fall apart and come slinking back to New York -- Newland suddenly realizes how much better a woman like her would be for his life, and how she sparks in him the kind of intelligent, world-weary passion that the domesticated, gender-role-believing May simply cannot. And this is another reason why the publishing date of this book is important, because the Modernist women at the beginning of the "Roaring Twenties" Jazz Age were dealing with this issue all over again -- the relationship between independence and personal identity and traditional romantic happiness -- and you can see this novel as just as much a comment about their situation as the one of the late Victorian Age, kind of like how Robert Altman's M*A*S*H is actually about Vietnam although set during the Korean War.The majority of the book, then, concerns itself with the situation that develops between all these people in this hothouse environment, as Newland and Ellen come to realize their attraction to each other but hardly ever acknowledge it out loud, and also as the rest of this society comes to realize it too, and starts quietly deciding behind closed doors what exactly they're going to collectively do about it. And this is yet another reason that it's important to know about the schism between this book's setting and its publication; because instead of impulsively running off together and "living happily ever after," as would've happened in the breathy Victorian romances actually being written in the late 1800s, here all the parties involved come to a much more Modernist yet heartbreaking conclusion, that ultimately it just isn't fair of Newland and Ellen to destroy the lives of not only May but the entire Mingott family, just because there was bad timing involved as to who exactly met who in what exact order. Not only do Newland and Ellen come to realize this, but even May herself comes to understand just what kind of sacrifice the two make for her sake, leading to a resolution not exactly sad but not exactly happy either; so a thoroughly Modern story, in other words, even as at the end they watch this old elaborate caste system around them fall apart during the first few decades of the 20th century.The argument for it being a classic:Well, for starters, it was the first-ever novel by a woman to win the Pulitzer, and is also mentioned in just about any list you come across of the greatest novels of all time (plus was adapted into a high-profile Martin Scorsese film in 1993, a controversial production among the book's fans, which doesn't hurt either). But awards and platitudes aside, argue its fans, there are two main reasons why The Age of Innocence should be considered a classic: because of the aforementioned complex way it combines Romanticism and Modernism, both nostalgically presenting the former while ingeniously mixing in the latter; and also because it was one of the first-ever truly perfect Realist stories ever written, a style of writing favored by such turn-of-the-century authors as Wharton and her good friend Henry James, which believe it or not was actually considered a cutting-edge literary theory at the time. After all, it was the immense popularity of this novel (almost from the day it was released) that was a big factor in Realism becoming such a dominant form of storytelling in contemporary novels, so dominant in fact that most of us no longer realize it even has a special name. (For those who don't know, Realism simply means "a story told in a way so that it sounds and feels like it could've actually happened in real life," and is the way that 95 percent of all contemporary novels are now written; this is compared to the habit during the Victorian Age for all novels to be either fairytales or to sternly preach a moral lesson impossible to actually live up to, or perhaps be a ridiculously unrealistic bosom-heaving love story.)The argument against:Ironically, the biggest argument against The Age of Innocence seems to be just how much of an understanding one needs to have about the circumstances behind its publishing in order to grasp its full power; because if you don't know all the details I've thus far described, it's incredibly easy to see this book as just some outdated potboiler about how rich people suck, the exact attitude you tend to find among online reviews from people who didn't care for it. No matter how powerful the book itself might be, argue its critics, to drag around this much historical baggage violates the spirit of how we're defining "classic" in this essay series; that in order for a book to truly be considered such, it needs to transcend its specific original time period, so that anyone can pick it up randomly at any point in the future and still enjoy it for what it is. Even less than a hundred years since its original publication, argue its critics, The Age of Innocence threatens to no longer do this; and that's why it should certainly be considered both a historically important and well-done book, but not necessarily a timeless classic.My verdict:So if you've ever asked yourself, "I wonder what the absolute oldest novels are to establish the kind of specific English we use today," a strong argument could be made for The Age of Innocence being one of them; that's what I kept thinking while reading it, anyway, that it's so far the oldest book in the CCLaP 100 to feel like it could've actually been written yesterday. (I mean, yes, Madame Bovary comes close, as far as capturing the literary spirit of our contemporary times; but Wharton's novel is so far the oldest to feel like you could literally slap a fake 2009 copyright notice on the front page and not make people even blink.) And that's because of a whole series of what turns out to be some pretty subtle details, things you see mentioned in essays about Wharton again and again: not just this brilliant mix of Romanticism and Modernism she pulls off, for example, but also an incredibly dry and dark sense of humor (this book is surprisingly funny, but only to those who like, say, 30 Rock or Arrested Development); the resigned acknowledgment among all the characters as to the cruel ironic nature of the world; even the plain-spoken language and simple sentence structure used (which after all was a major hallmark of the Realist writers, the insistence that language itself stay out of the way as much as possible of the actual story being told, versus the flowery purple-prose messes of the Victorian Age and older.)The biggest secret, though, as to why The Age of Innocence is so enjoyable is because of the various levels at which it can be enjoyed; for example, one of the first and most obvious pleasures of the book is simply the sumptuous visual images of Old New York that Wharton conjures up, and if one wants they can easily enjoy this novel simply as a melodramatic piece of historical fiction, to lose oneself in the exquisitely remembered finery of Wharton's actual youth (although make no mistake, this is not an autobiographical novel -- Wharton was only ten or so in the years this book takes place). But then if you want, you can also enjoy the novel for the complex way it neither condemns nor approves this ridiculously elaborate code of behavior among this circle of upper-class acquaintances; this was the world Wharton herself quite happily lived in her entire adult life, after all, and there's a reason that she used to call this book her "apology" for her earlier, much more damning House of Mirth. (In fact, one of this book's strongest arguments is that maybe it's not so bad after all to stop yourself from ruining the lives of everyone around you, just because you get a boner from cynical girls with short haircuts who make bad life decisions and have spent time in Europe, and that there's maybe something actually to this elaborate set of etiquette that marked the "civilized height" of the Victorian Age.)Now, that said, I also agree with the book's critics in at least one respect -- that if I hadn't studied up beforehand on both Wharton and the history of this book, I wouldn't have nearly enjoyed it in the nuanced way that I did, a clear violation of the spirit behind this CCLaP 100 series in the first place. Although it's still a small enough problem here in the early 2000s for me to confidently label the book a classic for all of us, I have a feeling that it's in its last days in history of being considered such, and that a mere fifty years from now it will be considered as badly dated as the work of such early Victorians as Nathaniel Hawthorne is now starting to more and more seem to us Obamian-Age citizens. After all, if there's one big surprise I've learned since starting this essay series, it's just how fluid our entire concept of "artistic classic" actually is; and although I happily call The Age of Innocence one at this particular moment in history, I'm not sure exactly how much longer this will be the case. Do yourself a favor and read it soon, since as a "grandchild of Modernism" you will be one of the last people in history to fully be able to appreciate it in all its subtle glory.Is it a classic? For now
"He simply felt that if he could carry away the vision of the spot of earth she walked on, and the way the sky and sea enclosed it, the rest of the world might seem less empty."I believe that the best kind of books are those which one does not expect to fall in love with, but undeniably do. You know, the ones that have been sitting on the shelf for ages and that you just finally pick up on a whim, having no idea what to expect but thinking you might enjoy it? Then you start it and all of a sudden everything draws you in: the setting, the prose, the characters, the plot...And you think why the hell have I never read this author before now? Before the first five chapters are over, it's already on the top favourites list.I enjoyed myself hugely with The Age of Innocence. It was so beautiful, enchanting and clever. And I loved everything about it. At the heart of the story is the complicated love triangle between three wealthy members of old New York society's elite. The tangle could have in fact been easy to solve had the characters not been living in 1870's New York. "It was the old New York way...the way people who dreaded scandal more than disease, who placed decency above courage, and who considered that nothing was more ill-bred than "scenes", except those who gave rise to them."Although considered a romance, The Age of Innocence is first and foremost a satire. The way Wharton poked fun at New York society was entertaining, but at the same time her descriptions and the atmosphere she created were delightful. I loved reading about soirées at the opera, multiple-course dinners, archery tournaments and glittering balls. It was a fascinating and scintillating world of which I thoroughly enjoyed reading and learning about. But what made this book even better was Wharton's cleverness and her manner of showing us society's real deal beneath all that glitz and glamorous façade. "In reality they all lived in a kind of hieroglyphic world, where the real thing was never said or done or even thought, but only represented by a set of arbitrary signs."In one word, this society is hypocritical. Hypocrisy and fake manners are the order of their days, and most know it, are used to it, but would never dare change it. Newland Archer proposes to May Welland "because it is the right thing" and May accepts "because it is the right thing". Real feelings and true opinions are of no consequence, and are in fact out of place. Blending in is what is important. Thus it is that May and Newland are engaged. May is considered the perfect model of womanhood; young, beautiful, soft, obedient, pliant, conventional and with no opinions on anything of importance. In short, she is pretty boring. Newland starts out pretty much the same; he's a young lawyer, used to the first style of living and strict rules of his society, who doesn't seem to be able to think outside the box and do anything original. Both are good persons with many amiable qualities, but they don't stand out. It was very interesting that the story was told entirely from Newland's point of view. Typically, classic novels written by females usually only give - for the most part - the heroine's point of view. But in this case we are only privy to the hero's thoughts. A hero who is, moreover, a very ordinary everyday guy, with nothing special to recommend him. This is probably the first novel ever that I have loved so much without falling for the hero! He lacked a certain spark that failed to entice the reader in that way. The love story is nevertheless magnificent, because it is the changes and character growth of both lovers that make it endearing and wonderful."His whole future seemed suddenly to be unrolled before him; and passing down its endless emptiness he saw the dwindling figure of a man to whom nothing was ever to happen."But Newland's careful and predictable world is flipped completely upside down when he meets the intriguing and intrepid Countess Olenska. Fleeing her despicable Polish husband, Madame Olenska seeks refuge amongst her friends and family, and lands right in the middle of the guarded world of New York high society. Ellen is older than most marriageable women, has seen more of the world, and she creates quite a stir among the elite. Wilful, strong, independent and friendly, the countess's ways are different than anyone else's, and she is the only one who dares to live by her own rules. "You gave me my first glimpse of a real life, and at the same moment you asked me to go on with a sham one. It’s beyond human enduring—that’s all."As she slowly becomes aware of her differences, she seeks to mould herself into the polite world, while Archer finally sees in her a way out of the predictability of the pattern of his life. Boom, mutual attraction. That was what I loved the most about their love story. The way they each learned and brought something valuable to the other. Ellen learns trust, fidelity and stability. In return, she brings some zest to spice up Newland's life, makes him re-evaluate his priorities and forces him to see the realities of his world. I loved the way they challenged each other's views and principles. To be apart means a return into their old respective life patterns, but to be together would mean going against what they both love the most in the other. "I can't love you unless I give you up."I believe I could go on and on and still I wouldn't be able to convey half of this book's greatness or how much I love it. My review feels like only a sliver of what it's all about. I cannot recommend it enough, please do yourself a huge favour and read it, it is definitely not to be missed. The 1993 movie starring Daniel Day-Lewis as Archer, Winona Ryder as May and Michelle Pfeiffer as Ellen is also wonderful, although a little short and not so deeply developed as the book is, but if you've read the book it offers a really nice visual and is worth it just for the beautiful music, the gorgeous costumes and lavish decors."His mind, as always when they first met, was wholly absorbed in the delicious details that made her herself and no other."
What do You think about The Age Of Innocence (2004)?
3.5 starsEdith Wharton shows us the world of the upper class in 1870's New York. This elite group had very rigid rules of behavior, social rituals, fashion, and entertaining. There is an element of hypocrisy that existed in some of its members behind their conservative moral exterior.Newland Archer, a wealthy young lawyer, is engaged to May, an innocent young woman who follows society's moral code. But Newland is very attracted to May's cousin, Countess Ellen Olenska, who has separated from her philandering husband. Ellen, who has spent many years in Europe, has a more artistic sensibility and shocks her staid relatives with her bohemian ways. Society, as well as these three main characters, plays a part in the resolution of this love triangle.Very detailed descriptions are given of the homes, manners, and lifestyles of the upper class New Yorkers during the time that Wharton was a young woman herself. While this makes the book important historically, it weighed down the first half of the novel. The second half of the book picked up the pace of the plot.Each of the two women, especially May, seemed more complex than Newland realized. He was dealing with his own feelings of being constrained by society, but also had a strong sense of duty. Society was changing by the time Newland's children were adults with many more opportunities for freedom and self-expression.Take a Trip: Part of this novel was set in Newport, RI, where the very wealthy vacationed in the summers. The mansions have been beautifully preserved, and their tours offer another glimpse of this element of society. The conspicuous consumption is almost overwhelming. Newport is an especially scenic and interesting getaway.
—Connie
I loved this book and seem to be developing a penchant for reading books which drift along in a sedate way and in which not much appears (on the surface) to happen. Appearances are deceptive though and Wharton’s prose is beautiful and the dialogue sharp, and with depth of meaning. The novel is set in high society New York in the 1870s; a social milieu where convention reigned on the surface, but where some of the men had slightly scandalous secrets. Newland Archer and May Welland and about to be engaged to be married and the novel follows their engagement and early married life. Newland falls in love with newcomer Ellen Olenska, who has fled a violent marriage in Europe. This is really about the society of women; Newland Archer believes in his own moral and intellectual superiority, but he really doesn’t have a clue what is happening behind the scenes. Wharton dissects the hypocrisy of a society where customs and position take centre stage. But she also extols the virtue of stability and family life at the same time. This was really like a chess match between Ellen and May; the man being the pawn and the prize and unaware that he was either. The men in the novel are innocent in the sense that they are naive, but they are also corrupt because they are unfaithful and philandering. The women play their game to maintain family, stability and tradition; the men to follow their own devices and desires. Wharton analyses with precision and lays out the society she grew up in for all to see. A great novel and worth reading.
—Paul
“The real loneliness is living among all these kind people who only ask one to pretend!”The Age of Innocence is a well-written book. It's definitely not the most exciting book, actually there were some boring parts because Edith Wharton does get a bit carried away at times. The novel is a study on the genders and how we interacted (and arguably still do) under societal constraints. I had a hard time truly caring for any of the characters, but that's intentional. Wharton's critical outlook on New York City high society is what you should focus on, analyzing Newland Archer's hypocrisy (view spoiler)[(he knew he loved another woman but he still kept thinking how he has to marry well “After all, marriage is marriage, and money's money—both useful things in their way”) (hide spoiler)]
—Desislava
