Happy Birthday, Edith Wharton
Tuesday, January 24th, 2012
Today is the 150th anniversary of Edith Wharton’s birth. I cannot recommend highly enough celebrating this milestone by dipping into one of her works.
The House of Mirth, The Age of Innocence, The Custom of the Country, Ethan Frome: All are worth visiting or revisiting. If you want a quicker introduction to the grande dame’s corpus, read this electrifying story, “Roman Fever.”
Or, just appreciate this fantastic observation Wharton made in her 1936 Introduction to Mirth (first published in 1905), in which she laments the superficiality of so much fiction and so much of life:
I remember once saying to Henry James, in reference to a novel of the type that used euphemistically to be called “unpleasant”: “You know, I was rather disappointed; that book wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected”; to which he replied, with his incomparable twinkle: “Ah, my dear, the abysses are all so shallow.”
Well, so they are; but at least they are always there, and the novelist who has the patience to dip down into them will find that below a certain depth, whatever his subject, there is almost always “stuff o’ the conscience” to work in.
Wharton was one such novelist with the “patience to dip down” into the abysses, and her works are so much the stronger for it.
But indeed some readers have found her novels too abysmal — too lacking in redemption for her characters and readers. Lionel Trilling indicted her for a “limitation of heart.” We need only look to his own words, though, to see why Wharton’s novels have such singular, enduring power.
About Ethan Frome, Trilling says what can be said of much of life: “It is terrible to contemplate, it is unforgettable, but the mind can do nothing with it, can only endure it.” Thankfully, even now, 150 years after her birth and 75 after her death, we can contemplate and endure life’s disappointments along with Wharton — and we can be ever-newly dazzled by the brilliance of her observations and insight.
Happy birthday to an unforgettable authoress.