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The Age of Innocence (Everyman's Library)

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It was a glittering, sumptuous time when hypocrisy was expected, discreet infidelity tolerated, and unconventionality ostracized.

That is the Gilded Age, and nobody knew its hypocrises better than Edith Wharton.... and nobody portrayed them as well. "The Age of Innocence" is a trip back in time to the stuffy upper crust of "old New York," taking us through one respectable man's hopeless love affair with a beautiful woman -- and the life he isn't brave enough to have.

Newland Archer, of a wealthy old New York family, has become engaged to pretty, naive May Welland. But as he tries to get their wedding date moved up, he becomes acquainted with May's exotic cousin, Countess Ellen Olenska, who has returned home after dumping her cheating husband. At first, the two are just friends, but Newland becomes more and more entranced by the Countess' easy, free-spirited European charm.

After Newland marries May, the attraction to the mysterious Countess and her free, unconventional life becomes even stronger. He starts to rebel in little ways, but he's still mired in a 100% conventional marriage, job and life. Will he become an outcast and go away with the beautiful countess, or will he stick with May and the safe, dull life that he has condemned in others?

There's nothing too scandalous about "Age of Innocence" in a time when starlets acquire and discard boyfriends and husbands like old pantyhose -- it probably wasn't in the 1920s when it was first published. But then, this isn't a book about sexiness and steam -- it's part bittersweet romance, part social satire, and a look at what happens when human beings lose all spontaneity and passion.

Part of this is due to Wharton's portrayal of New York in the 1870s -- opulent, cultured, pleasant, yet so tied up in tradition that few people in it are able to really open up and live. It's a haze of ballrooms, gardens, engagements, and careful social rituals that absolutely MUST be followed, even if they have no meaning. It's a place "where the real thing was never said or done or even thought."

And Wharton writes distant, slightly mocking prose that outlines this sheltered little society. Her writing opens as slowly and beautifully as a rosebud, letting subtle subplots and powerful, hidden emotions drive the story. So don't be discouraged by the endless conversations about flowers, ballrooms, gloves and old family scandals that don't really matter anymore.

In the middle of all this, Newland is a rather dull, intelligent young man who thinks he's unconventional. But he becomes more interesting as he struggles between his conscience and his longing for the Countess. And as "Age of Innocence" winds on, you gradually see that he doesn't truly love the Countess, but what she represents -- freedom from society and convention.

The other two angles of this love triangle are May and Ellen. May is (suitably) pallid and rather dull, though she shows some different sides in the last few chapters. And Ellen is a magnificent character -- alluring, mysterious, but also bewildered by New York's hostility to her ways. And she's even more interesting when you realize that she isn't trying to rebel, but simply being herself.

"Age of Innocence" is a subtle look at life in Gilded Age New York, telling the story of a man desperately in love with a way of life he hasn't got the courage to pursue. Exquisite in its details, painful in its beauty.

In Edith Wharton's classic "The Age of Innocence" the protagonist Newland Archer is torn between his love for Countess Olenska and his loyalty to his aristocratic clan. Desperate to experience the resplendent splendor of life that the Countess promises, Archer is ultimately undone by the machinations, norms, and habits of his family. When Archer accepts his fate, he also accepts a life of comfortable respectability but also one of dull mediocrity.

Or at least that's what they say.

Writing in a luxurious and lethargic language that is proof of her comfort and confidence in her wealth and in her place in society, Edith Wharton paints a portrait of Newland Archer that is quite unflattering. He is a man who has dreams and who has longings, but it is all within the internal workings of his mind. Outside, he is a man who is all too content with his easy aristocratic life: he is expected to do nothing and does nothing at his law office, and we can assume that he learned nothing at Harvard. He inherited domestic tranquility with his mother and his sister, and his marriage was both a birth-right and responsibility. When Countess Olenska appears on the scene, her beauty and her independence do stir some romantic imaginings in him, but he does very little. We assume that if his fiance weren't so diabolically clever in the way that only aristocrats can be Archer would have run away with the Countess by the end of part one of the book. But how do we in fact know that Archer's dreams were thwarted, and that he just didn't find convenient excuses not to pursue them? This is a man who has never shown any hint of rebellion and dissent, and we are only creatures of habit.

The only proof of Archer's character comes at the end of the book. His wife is dead, his children are grown, and the society has changed around him. If now was a perfect time for Archer to at least pursue his passion for the Countess now was it. And indeed his son arranges a meeting between him and the Countess, but Archer, perhaps just sick and tired of finding excuses for his blind loyalty to his clan, just gets up and leave without even struggling to explain why he would do so.

Newland Archer is ultimately nothing more than a product of the times he grew up. He internalized all the habits and norms of his clan without really questioning them. When he could finally question, he instead just retreated again to the certainty of his Manhattan enclave.

American author, Edith Wharton wrote a remarkable book detailing the 1870s. She brings to the reader star-crossed lovers who live in a time and place of a world gone by. Every nuance of that time is mentioned in a story that will keep the reader riveted. The upper classes of old New York, the scandals, the ideas of a woman's place in marriage and society, of what was proper and what was not, is all delivered neatly through the three main characters and their trials and tribulations of life in New York society. The Countess Olenska, May Welland, and Newland Archer, find themselves in a love triangle that has an unexpected twist in the end. New York Society is a fourth 'character' in the drama and should be thought in that way as the reader digests the story. What makes this triangle different is the way in which manipulation is subtly introduced, inner demons are faced and passions trounced. Hope does not spring eternal because of the powerful 'mindset' of the time and place. A study in human tragedy.

Tragic and beautiful. My heart broke again and again for Newland as society forced him to bury his heart and keep it hidden. This same society that aimed to save his marriage at any cost succeeded only in keeping him married while ruining any chance he had at a joyful and fulfilling marriage. Twice he attempted honesty with May, desired only to confess and throw himself at her mercy, and twice he was prevented by the rules and edicts of society. What kind of love and grace and mercy might he have known if he had only been allowed to speak what was in his heart? What companionship might he and May have enjoyed if honesty had been allowed?

His son Dallas sees the truth and speaks it when he says, "No. You never did ask each other anything, did you? And you never told each other anything. You just sat and watched each other, and guessed at what was going on underneath." To be married and yet remain unknown by your spouse--now that is a tragedy.