Xingu is an excellent story highlighting how Victorian women seemed to think that they knew everything. Each character is a conflict of interests, from the headstrong Mrs. Ballinger to the timid Mrs. Leveret. The characters are brilliantly portrayed and their interactions are hilarious. Read it and find out all about "Xingu".

Like _House of Mirth, Edith Wharton's 1917 short novel _Summer _ shows a relatively aware young woman being ground up by social convention. Wharton is so linked with Henry James that no one seems to have noticed the extent to which she was a late naturalist, chronicled inexorable destruction. An argument could be made that Charity is rescued from her hereditary fate up in the mountains (the Berkshires) and that the prime upholder of convention takes pity on her plight, but _Summer_ is close to _Ethan Frome_ in more than a New England location. More pragmatic than some of those confronted with destruction in other Wharton works, Charity makes the best of her very limited options, but happiness is more fleeting than a New England summer is.

The lack of female solidarity in _Summer_ is especially striking. Lily Bart had one devoted female friend. Charity has none, and the professional woman she turns to is far and away the most vicious character in the book.

Most of the book is about the blooming of a love crossing social boundaries that I find tedious. Others, including, I think Wharton herself, enjoyed chronicling Charity's first experience of love with an out-of-towner whose life and commitments are elsewhere, but for me it is the portrait of small-town busybodies and the eventual narrow corner into which Charity paints herself (with the help of social hypocrisy and her lack of education or any marketable skills ) that are interesting.

Susan Minot's introduction is helpful in placing the book within the course of Edith Wharton's life. A particularly important continuity across Wharton's work Minot observes is that "Wharton's heroines are not hapless victims; they understand their helplessness." I am not convinced that this enables them to keep their dignity, but the awareness of their plight and the unreasonability of social judgments heightens the tragedies (in contrast to Stephen Crane's _Maggie_ to take one example).

Leaving behind the world of New York high society that is the subject of many of her greatest novels (The House of Mirth , The Age of Innocence), Edith Wharton focuses her attention on an entirely different scene: a tiny, isolated New England village in early 20th century America. Her heroine, Charity Royall, is young, working class, ill-educated, rough-mannered - in short, about as different from Wharton herself as a character can be. And yet Wharton renders her and her world with remarkable sympathy.

As always, Wharton vividly delineates the painfully constricted circumstances of her heroine's world. And make no mistake: the community that Charity lives in is almost unimaginably narrow and isolated, in a way that no community with access to the internet, TV, etc. could possibly be now, in 21st century America.

Part of what makes this novel so acutely moving is Wharton's depiction of how Charity's whole world opens up as love and passion enter her life. It's touching to see Charity's underlying sensitivity and sensuality - and her curiosity about the world - blossom as her relationship with Harney progresses, and at the same time heartbreaking to realize that, beneath her bravado, she is utterly dependent on him - because her gender, and her lack of money, education, etc., leave her with so few options.

The pleasures of this novel are many; I will limit myself to mentioning a few. Among the features of this novel which makes it so powerful and evocative are the beautifully rendered descriptions of the seasons and the natural environment. The lush portrayals of the plants, flowers, and the natural landscape highlight the erotic tensions inherent in the story.

I also admired the wonderful way each of the places in the novel - the village of North Dormer, the town of Nettleton, the mysterious "Mountain" - take on a distinctive character, and how all of them, taken together, become a microcosm of the world. This symbolism adds a resonance that gives this seemingly "small" novel grandeur and heft. Best of all, the symbolism seems like a totally natural and organic part of the story, not at all forced or strained.

The 4th of July episode is a dazzling setpiece that not only gives the reader some delightful social history about what such celebrations were like in early 20th century America, but also serves to underscore the themes of desire (those sexually charged fireworks, and all those enticing, yet unavailable items in the store windows!) and of Charity's journey from village to the world, from innocence to experience.

This novel also contains some of Wharton's most accomplished characterizations. The complex, morally ambiguous Lawyer Royall is, I think, a masterpiece. (Though I'll admit I was less satisfied with the portrayal of Harney - I think Wharton lets him off the hook).

Finally, this is a book about female sexual desire, and as such it probably broke new ground in the Anglo-American novel (Kate Chopin's The Awakening is the only earlier novel I know that handles this theme with comparable frankness). What Wharton is really great at is dramatizing the paradoxes of desire: the way desire feeds itself and leaves you forever wanting more, and also how desire - the sighing, dreaming, longing - can become an exquisitely painful/deliciously pleasurable end in itself.

Ultimately, like so many of Wharton's novels, Summer is about women's choices, and it presents a remarkably clear-eyed view of a strong-willed young woman's pragmatic yet painful reckoning, as she struggles to make the best of the raw deal society has foist upon her. Charity's fate has the semi-tragic inevitability of so many other Wharton heroines, yet here the writing is suffused with a tenderness that rarely, if ever, appears in Wharton's other works. Long after I put this book down, it continued to haunt me.

Charity Royall is a girl from a small town who spends her days face down in the grass dreaming. Enter Lucius Harney, artistic, city guy who for a few months sweeps Charity off of her feet, rescuing her from small town life in North Dormer. Charity turns out to be little more than a side dish for Harney who goes on to marry Ms Balch; Charity is left depressed, pregnant and forced to marry the middle-age man who raised her, to save her name. I love all things Wharton so I may be a bit biased but I disagree that the ending was poor. It's pretty standard that Wharton's books do not have a happy ending; the characters have an amazing, brief love affair, but in the end, there is always some impediment, as in Ethan Frome and The Age of Innocence. For the realists out there, read this book; those who must have a happy ending, stick to fairytales!

This collection of 4 novellas is not one of Edith Wharton's best or best known books; however, OLD NEW YORK is a wonderful and varied good read. The best known of these stories is probably the OLD MAID, which was made into a 1939 movie starring Bette Davis. It chronicles the complex relationsip between cousins who join together to hide the origins of an orphan. I also really enjoyed NEW YEAR'S DAY, which tells of a young adulturous woman and the ramificantions her actions have on her entire life. The story reminded me a bit of THE AGE OF INNOCENCE in its heroine's sacrificing her life for the sake of appearances. THE SPARK is also terrific, but a bit stagey. It tells of a young man's fascination with an older successful man who is seen as a bit silly by others. Unfortunately, the book jacket (included on this site also) gives away a bit too much. The other story, FALSE DAWN, I found to be too predictable, and the writing was rather stilted. FALSE DAWN is the first story in this collection; if you find yourself not enjoying this story, stick with the book...it gets better!

Overall, this collection is likely to please fans of Edith Wharton and people who enjoy American literature from the early 20th century. Wharton is an superb author of the finest caliber, and I look forward to reading more of her books.

Anyone that likes Edith Wharton should read these novellas. I like her full length stories better (ie. The Age of Innocence, Custom of the County, The Buccaneers) so, I gave this book four stars because the characters aren't as developed as I would like them to be.

There is no doubt about it. Edith Warthon -- the stunning creator of amazing novels like The Age of Innocence and The House of Mirth -- had outdone herself with Old New York. The four novellas in Old New York have similar themes: infidelity, jealousy and the always intriguing class system. I love all the stories, but I particularly like "New Year's Day," which focuses on an adulterous woman. I marvel at the fact that this story had probably caused some controversy in those times. I also enjoyed "False Down" and "The Old Maid." I know that this particular book is not as popular as -- oh, I don't know -- The Age of Innocence, but the timeless quality in the stories is definitely memorable. If you haven't given this wonderful book a whirl, please do!

Prior to reading The House of Mirth, I had read both The Age of Innocence and Ethan Frome. The House of Mirth deals with moneyed New York families, as does The Age of Innocence, but The House of Mirth has a more serious tone and a more tragic storyline, in that the main character is a woman who is a victim of her times. Lily Bart lives in an era when to be poor is the worst punishment of New York society. The idea of having to work for a living is untenable. Her goal in life is to marry well, but she struggles with the idea of abandoning her goals for true happiness just to marry well. The story deals with her misadventures in society, and the sometimes painful price her relatives and friends extract from her in exchange for financial support. This is a very enjoyable, although sad, novel, and I recommend it particularly to those who have already read some Edith Wharton and wish to round out their selection of writing.

I must admit I cheated and saw the movie before I read this book. I've had the novel for so long, but never got around to it. The film was stunning and I was sobbing at the end. Now after the reading the book - I am pleased to say the film follows the book closely and Gillian Anderson really captures the moral complexities of Lily Bart. I love how Wharton was able to find the hypocrisy in nineteenth century high society. Not only did she expose its follies, she also unveiled its fragility. Lily could have easily maneuvered her way out of nearing poverty, but she possesses a kind of morality that her privileged, back-stabbing friends do not. It is only by turning their backs on the truth do her peers hold up their shameful facade. I do find it disturbing that Lily believes her only way out is death...that she has nothing else to offer the world. Wharton uses this tactic, though, to symbolically represent the rich snubbing the poor - how they exist without even seeing them.

However, the most intriguing part about this novel is Lily's relationship with Seldon. In the beginning, he seems to always remind her of her vain attempts at marrying rich men. She can't go through with her designs, though. He strings her along, all the while he's having this under-handed liason with one of the most pretentious women of their social circle. Lily never gets to tell him how much she really loves him. Her pride reverts to bravery as she realizes she must face her future without his companionship. Does she die for an empty purse or a broken heart? I choose the latter.

The House of Mirth is Wharton's first big novel, and it isn't as good as some of her later works. Nevertheless, Lily Bart, the central character, is well crafted as a woman who cannot reconcile her emotional desires with her deep-seated hatred of what she calls "dinginess" -- financial poverty. The book meticulously depicts her long, slow social downfall as she runs out of money and becomes the victim of malicious rumors spread by her enemies. Ultimately, she cannot marry the man she really loves because he is not rich enough.

The House of Mirth certainly has plenty of juicy elements -- sex scandals, blackmail, gambling, unrequited love, exotic trips to France, etc. It is also a great character study, particularly of Lawrence Selden, who is portrayed as an outside observer looking in on the social world of New York, much like the reader is doing. The social world of the novel is based on the most minute details of all social graces; the book has to be read pretty carefully if you want to get the most from it. Just as all the characters analyze every detail of every other character's actions, so too must the reader. Don't try to use this book as brain candy on a long plane flight. If you've got the time, it's well worth reading, despite some of the cheesy plot twists towards the end.

The first two-thirds of THE BUCCANEERS is brilliant, Wharton's at the top of her form -- hilarious, penetrating, exciting, effortless. Before reading, I didn't know and didn't want to inform myself precisely where the original material ended; I wanted to perpetuate the hope that there could be another great Wharton novel I hadn't read. But the book dies after chapter 29. It's like falling off a cliff. You have to be pretty insensible not to feel it yourself, and it's tremendously disappointing. I couldn't read more than a few pages of the added material, and then quit out of loyalty. Still, the Wharton first draft is a kick to read -- if for no other reason, for instance, than to see what a perfect first chapter looks like.

The Buccaneers hooked me onto Edith Wharton. Her tone and use of subtle sarcasm is similar to that of Jane Austen. If you love Austen, give Wharton a try. Definitely lighter in tone than Ethan Frome, but equally substantial.

The five stars apply to the book as a whole, and for Mainwaring's superb job of finishing the story that Wharton didn't live to do. I have read a lot of Edith Wharton, and this book is my favorite so far, but what I really found amazing was that I couldn't tell where one author left off and the other began. I tried to guess and found out I was mistaken! I won't give away the ending, but it's perfect down to the very last picture the reader is left with. There are lots of characters, so that the book is never boring, but not so many that it is confusing. The problems of women in the 1870s, social, legal, etc. are particularly well highlighted, and the people and the settings are entirely believable. This book made me go out and buy another Wharton novel.

Some of Edith Wharton's better known works have been translated to the silver screen in recent years. Her lush descriptions and poignant, mannered conversations make for great screenplays. This book has those Wharton hallmarks, but it's doubtful that you'll see this story at a multiplex near you anytime soon.

The reason? I believe the Hollywood powers-that-be might find this novel hits a bit too close to home. Wharton has written many books about New York society at the turn of the century, but none so scathing as this. Her characters represent the celebrities of her age; what's fascinating is to see that things haven't changed all that much. You'll never read the latest Tom Cruise - Nicole Kidman - Russell Crowe - Meg Ryan spread in People magazine in exactly the same way again after this book.

At the same time, it has all the things that Wharton does better than anyone else - the restrained (barely) passions, the intimate moments, the inner turmoil, the beautiful settings. Nobody else finds such depths among the shallows.

Is it possible to love and hate a book simultaneously? That is, after all, the resounding impression left by Edith Wharton's, THE CHILDREN, whose prose I appreciated even as the conclusion of the story left me deeply annoyed.

I have to struggle to read for pleasure anymore, so when I actually set aside a few hours for the attempt, as I did with THE CHILDREN, I rather hope it to be a good experience. And, in many respects, it was. THE CHILDREN is beautifully written, as is typically the case for Wharton (even in her sub-par endeavors, such as TWILIGHT SLEEP or GLIMPSES OF THE MOON, which I loved but didn't think was one of her best efforts). Much has been made of her talent for writing so there's no need to go on here. Suffice to say, she's brilliant. And THE CHILDREN is an excellent example of that fact, with a story that is far less renowned than THE HOUSE OF MIRTH or THE AGE OF INNOCENCE. However, the ending just killed me. I had my hopes up so ungodly high that perhaps, just perhaps, Wharton was going to give us a "happy" ending...I should have known better. I read this book on a plane flight from the American Mid West and was rapturously engrossed throughout (thank God for sleeping seatmates) but when I reached the end I just about threw the book across the plane in frustration. I know, I know, shame on me for thinking Edith Wharton would deliver a tidy conclusion (GLIMPSES OF THE MOON aside), but still, I was ever so hopeful...my mistake. At least with THE HOUSE OF MIRTH you could read "tragedy" in the subtext from the very beginning so you could be summarily braced when it arrived. But the surprising lightness to her style in THE CHILDREN left me unprepared.

Nonetheless, if you like Wharton and are familiar with her manner, then by all means, check out THE CHILDREN. It's an engaging story, truly, about a middle-aged man whose life is enriched by his capricious association with a wild, eccentric family led, in no small part, by the amazing eldest daughter, with whom he falls in love as he tries to help her to hold together her various step brothers and sisters as their parents go through yet another messy divorce.

So, by all means, give it a go...just be prepared for the Wharton Effect that comes with the conclusion.

I thought this book was one of Wharton's best work. Its very realistic. There is a little bit of comedey mixed in too.

"The Age of Innocence" is a wonderful read on many levels for all kinds of readers. It shouldn't just appeal to "literature" buffs but also to romance readers, those interested in history or psychology, and anyone looking for an interesting and involving story.

Wharton weaves an intriguing tale of New York society in the late 19th century, where old ways have not yet made way for "modern" views, but it's evident that it is only a matter of time. For example, what would have been considered socially unacceptable in Newland and May Archer's time, such as marrying your mistress after your wife dies, is perfectly alright by the time May and Newland's son, Dallas, is ready to marry. Dallas is to marry the daughter of the previously mentioned union, demonstrating that by the early 20th century, the old social conventions of Old New York have gone by the wayside. Unfortunately this didn't happen in time for Newland and the Countess, and in fact, it appears that he wishes that everything could remain the same as it was in his youth, which is seen by his reaction to Countess Olenska at the end of the novel.

What makes the book truly great, though, is Wharton's detail of EVERYthing, from how a dinner was served, to an evening at the opera, and more. It's almost impossible not to enter the mind of the characters; they are so completely and complexly developed that this book should be required reading for every writer!

I really give this book 4 1/2 stars; the only reason it isn't 5 stars is because the ending was a little disappointing to me, although it was quite in keeping with the characters and the story. We tend to satisfy our curiosity as soon as possible, but a hundred years ago one had to look at other issues as more important than personal satisfaction.

The Age of Innocence, Edith Wharton. The classic story of a 19th century love affair between Newland Archer, a married New Yorker and Ellen Olenska, who is separated from her husband in europe. When Olenska leaves her husband and returns to her family in new york, a scandal ensues. Olenska is beautiful and attracts a wealth of suitors, the most prominent being Archer who understands her best and shares her ideas about freedom from social constraint. Archer is a lawyer and intervenes in Olenska's marital dispute and suggests she not file for divorce to save the public embarrassment. Meanwhile he pursues a relationship with her that can't work out because of his own marriage to May Welland, a dainty beauty, and Olenska's own troubled past. This social drama is set in old New York, a highly refined world that seems British, with all the well to do Protestants living lives of privilege and social custom. The story is how these customs are challenged but preserved by the failed relationship between Archer and Olenska and how love is hindered by convention in this rarefied world.

The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton. Highly recommended.

A classic novel made famous by a recent movie, The Age of Innocence is the story of a society man, Newland Archer, caught between two very different women. On the one hand is May Welland, the virginal Diana of New York society, whose seeming frankness and innocence discourage and oppress him: "Untrained human nature was not frank and innocent; it was full of the twists and defences of an instinctive guile." All this is "supposed to be what he wanted, what he had a right to, in order that he might exercise his lordly pleasure in smashing it like an image made of snow." Her counterpart is her cousin Countess Ellen Olenska, vaguely exotic, vaguely dangerous, forbidden-primarily because she is not the "artificial product" of society, but a genuine, sensual woman whose independent way of thinking is enough to tacitly and then overtly banish her from the very company that Newland's life is built around. She is !"different," as Archer will later discuss with one of his children. No one else would say, "Why not make one's own fashions?" thus giving a voice to what Archer himself deep down believes but can't put into practice.

Ironically, it is May who first forces he and Ellen together, against his will, in her efforts to be kind to her cousin, who has just returned from Europe. As he sees more of "poor Ellen," estranged from her emotionally abusive husband and seemingly vulnerable to the wiles of the wealthy outsider scoundrel Julius Beaufort, he finds himself returning again and again to her until he realises he is in love with her-long after the reader has reached that conclusion. He resolves the dilemma by rushing his marriage to May, or makes it that much worse. Thus ensues a delicate balance between the life he has chosen with May, with whom he now realises he has no emotional bond, and the life he would choose if he were more sure of himself, more sure that being true to !oneself is more important than being true to one's system.

Nearly every character is memorable-from the massive Mrs. Manson Mingott, May and Ellen's grandmother who is old enough and skilled enough to intuit all and manipulate all; to the womanizing Lawrence Lefferts, whose behavior is acceptable because he knows how to play the game, how things are "done"; to the frigid bastions of society, the van der Luydens; to May's mother, who cannot be exposed in any way to "unpleasantness"; to Archer's virginal sister Janey, who lives life vicariously through gossip and guesswork.

Many scenes and locations are equally vivid: Beaufort's lavish house and party; the contrast of the van der Luydens' dinner party; Archer and May's conventional and stifling honeymoon, more sporty than romantic or passionate; Archer's pursuit of May in Florida and his following Ellen to the Blenkers' and then to Boston; a revealing ride with Ellen in May's brougham; Mrs. Mingott's house in the m!iddle of "nowhere," where she rules like a queen and where the politics are only slightly less complicated than those of Elizabeth I's court-all unforgettable places and scenes.

In less intelligent or skilled hands, the plot could have become mere melodrama, but Wharton knows how her society worked, who inhabited it, what it forgave, and what it could not pardon. Affairs are pardonable; treachery, real or perceived, to the framework of what holds these people together is not. In the end, May saves Archer from himself-and dooms him to her kind of life by doing so. When he gives up all his dreams, he looks into May's "blue eyes, wet with tears." She knows what he does not and remains cold as the moon that the goddess Diana rules.

It could be said that May and Ellen represent two sides of Newland Archer-both are people he is afraid to become. If he is like May, he experiences death of the mind, death of the soul, death of the emotions, becoming what he is expected t!o be to keep the foundations that society is built upon steady, strong, and standing. (It is no coincidence that a theme in Wharton's The House of Mirth is the vulnerability of that house to the influx of modern ways.) If he becomes like Ellen, he will lose everything that he has built his own foundations on. In the end, he is neither, nor is he himself. His tragedy is not that much less than that of The House of Mirth's Lily Bart, both victims of a society they need but cannot survive.

Diane L. Schirf, 28 April 2001.

Edith Wharton is likely the best chronicler of life in the upper startum of early New York, and the CUSTOM OF THE COUNTRY joins her other classics in this realm, such as the HOUSE OF MIRTH and the AGE OF INNOCENCE. From the beginning, you can see where the book is headed, but the skill with which it's written keeps it from being a predictable read. The herione (?) is Undine Spragg, a social climber on the order of Lily Bart. Undine is a rather unlikeable protagonist, which leaves one's sympathies with the supporting characters, such as her first husband, Ralph Marvell. Fortunately, the book is filled with wonderful supporting characters, and the book's point-of-view often shifts between these characters. The ending is bittersweet, but gives one a great deal of insight into the emptiness of attaining everthying you want. Another terrific novel from Edith Wharton!

What a marvelous author Edith Wharton is! I like to copy passages from her books just to feel how beautifully she constructs her sentences and paragraphs. I've also read Ethan Frome, Summer, House of Mirth, and Age of Innocence; they are all terrific novels. But The Custom of the Country is her best. Could there be a worse mother, wife, or daughter than Undine? And yet, she is too pathetic to hate; she is so needy and dependent upon material things. She's perhaps the most unliberated woman in literature! Do read this novel; you will love it and learn from it.

A stunning, ruthless indictment of crass materialism and American disregard for the traditions and values of other countries. It's hard to believe this was written before WW1.

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!