Given the flawlessly smooth machinery of THE HOUSE OF MIRTH and THE CUSTOM OF THE COUNTRY, it's kind of weird to come across a Wharton novel as structurally sloppy as this one. More uncharacteristically yet, the first three chapters, in my opinion, are just plain shabbily written. But Wharton is never without her reasons, and once she's disposed of the characters' "backstory" as expeditiously (if inelegantly) as possible at the top of the book, she hits her stride in earnest and gives us all of the pleasures of a great Wharton tale -- chiseled prose, trenchant humor, sociological precision, briskly paced and compactly dramatized.

Something that strikes me about this book: it'd make a much better movie, be much easier to adapt, than either HOUSE OF MIRTH or AGE OF INNOCENCE. It's got fewer locations, a much smaller cast of characters -- heck, it even has a happy ending, and an honestly earned one. (In fact, the conceit it starts with -- a couple in love who'd like to stay together, but alas, there's no money in it -- is pretty much the idea Preston Sturges started with in THE PALM BEACH STORY, an audience-pleaser for sure.)

The Glimpses of the Moon is undeniably not Edith Wharton's best work, but that doesn't keep it from being a very rich story. Wharton does one of her best jobs ever of getting and keeping her reader's interest in the main characters and their friends, society, and lives. If you have read Wharton before, you know that she does a flawless job of this anyway, so let me assure you that TGOTM is outstanding in this sense. I couldn't get over the fact that Susy defines potential self-discovery so perfectly. Wharton somehow keeps us from siding entirely with Nick, who is close to being morally perfect. Even when Susy is at her most primitive and ruthless, Wharton reminds us, subliminally it seems, that she is still a 'good' character. In a way, Wharton presents us with a question and a problem in her presentation of Nick and Susy. In a world where money is needed not only to thrive physically but also socially, there are two ways to deal with the fact that you have less of it than everyone else: You can be like Nick or you can be like Susy. They are at two opposite ends of the spectrum and they stand for two completely different forms of action. They love each other, too, and this makes the issue even more of a puzzle. Which character would you choose to act like? Even more importantly, which character's actions most defines your own actions in 'real life?' Wharton never suggests that either way is the right way. As readers, we can only examine the consequences of both characters' actions and notice how the book ends. It's not surprising that Wharton hides her answer in a love story.

This story is much lighter and faster paced than The Age of Innocence. Nick and Susy are attractive, stylish, and interesting; but alas, they are poor. They meet and are instantly attracted to one another. Each has been used to living from friend to friend, receiving lodging and gifts in exchange for their elegant company, but now what will they do?

They hatch a plan to get married, enjoy each other under the condoning blanket of matrimony, and live off wedding gifts of money and loaned honeymoon villas for a year or so. Or until either one got a better offer.

Then, oops! They fall in love, create a misunderstanding, part ways for a while, each thinking miserably that they must be apart from the other; then the satisfying and inevitable happens...but you'll have to read it for yourself.

A delightful romp through 1920's society!

This little book amazed me the first time I read it, for it is a delightful mix of erotica and story-telling in olde English. Sensuality with style and elegance, without being vulgar or hackneyed, or boring. With an excellent portrayal of the title character, this book deals in detail a very sexual theme, taking you to a different time. Shows how love, passion, and pleasure survive every age and time. Delightful.

I have just finished reading Fanny Hill, and I was really surprised at just how explicit the novel was! I was expecting a story that made much of a few kisses behind the pantry door or a bared ankle or two, but I was certainly wrong about that.

Cleland manages to write a steamy story without ever being crass or resorting to using filthy language to get a reaction. It's hard to belive that it was published in 1749. Everything about the people in the novel seems so modern and no one ever thinks that the people of Cleland's time even had thoughts or lives like he describes.

Yet this novel has it's problems too.

The plot is an old one, young innocent country girl goes to the big city to seek her fortune and falls in the hands of some disreputable people. It's a story that's as old as the profession the book is about. At one point in the novel I wondered if maybe the people who wrote the script for Pretty Woman had been reading Fanny Hill for plot ideas.

Cleland starts a very nice love story for our heroine, but then it fades out for most of the novel and returns without warning or explanation at the end. In fact, the end of the novel seemed rushed in this readers opinion, and rendered the whole story a bit silly. Not to mention a couple of holes in the plot that are big enough to drive a Mack truck through.

Overall, it's a good book, and should be read if for no other reason than to see for yourself just how erotic it really is. No matter what expectations you have when you pick the book up, it will surprise you, and probably pleasantly so.

Question: What does John Cleland have in common with D. H. Lawrence, James Joyce and Aristophanes?

Answer: The Comstock Law

All four writers (and a host of others) have had their novels banned in USA for years under the Comstock Law of 1873. Officially known as the Federal Anti-Obscenity Act, this law banned the mailing of "lewd", "indecent", "filthy", or "obscene" materials. The Comstock laws, while now to some extent unenforced, remain for the most part on the statute books today. The Telecommunications Reform Bill of 1996 even specifically applies some of these outdated and outmoded laws to computer networks (without much success, it is noted).

So what's my message here? Simple - if we continue to allow censors to dictate what we can and cannot read, we stand the chance of being robbed of some of the world's finest written works - and we're not talking exceptions here. Consider, for example Candide, Voltaire's critically hailed satire - Jean-Jacques Rousseau's autobiography Confessions - Chaucer's Canterbury Tales - Boccaccio's Decameron - Defoe's Moll Flanders, and various editions of The Arabian Nights. All were banned at various times in the US. That noble book 'Ulysses' by James Joyce was recently selected by the Modern Library as the best novel of the 20th century yet, like Aristophanes' Lysistrata, Cleland's 'Fanny Hill' and Lawrence's 'Lady Chatterley', it was banned for decades from the U.S.

Fanny Hill is no longer distinguished for the once-shocking treatment of the sexual activity of one 'loose' woman. Now that we're used to hearing and reading about sex, it's apparent that the novel is memorable for better reasons: namely, that Cleland was a masterful writer whose intelligent descriptions take us bodily into the world of his characters. The book's moderate language on an immoderate subject make it a unique, original work - a triumph of passion and eroticism over sterility.

The next time you hear that something has been censored, question whether it is really to protect public morals (where the pornography of senseless war, and starvation appear to be more acceptable than freedom of sexuality), or whether it is to protect the censors' own frustrated identities! Fanny Hill is yet another powerful reminder that all the censors have ever succeeded in doing is to ban outstanding literature in the name of public morality.

Barreca seems to have difficulty deciding whether she wants this to be a scholarly text or a (mildly)amusing collection of anecdotes. It tends to make points that are presented as fact, then backed up by something a character said in a novel written in 1930, or whined by a friend over dinner last week. Occasionally, Barreca makes an interesting, original point but such moments get lost in the shuffle.

This is a great book. The information in it is presented in an thoughtful and humorous way. This book made me really think about my expectations and preconceptions of marriage and men and where they came from. I have even gone back and read it a couple more times.

This is a great book. The author references some of the major thinkers on modern marriage and mixes in a humorous perspective on the "art of relationships". This is one of the very best books on marriage. I recommend it to all my clients.

Dr. Joseph Barr Marriage Counselor Deerfield, Illinois