"... to the country from which travellers return with another soul."

I seem to have fallen into the typical blogger's trap of being enthusiastic for a very short length of time and then going for weeks without writing anything! This is partly due to the fact that I haven't really read anything recently that I've thought worth writing about, at least until Wednesday when I began reading Edith Wharton's The Children (1928). Although I briefly studied The House of Mirth in my first semester at Sheffield, I'd not heard of this one until seeing it on a shelf at Broomhill Library. I've since been so engrossed that I finished it earlier this afternoon. Here are a few thoughts.

The book centres around the seemingly average Martin Boyle who is introduced to us as a man who 'would have loved adventure, but adventure worth of the name perpetually eluded him; and when it has eluded a man till he is over forty it is not likely to seek him out later.' Of course Boyle, who is in his forties, proves the exception to the rule and immediately meets the engaging and unconventional Wheater children, the oldest of whom - Judith, aged fifteen - immediately arrests his attention. As he becomes ever more embroiled in their lives and problems - their parents have a heartbreaking disregard for their children and are happy to pass them from one place to another, whether accompanied by a parent or not - it becomes clear that the only ending can be tragic. This tragedy is not melodramatic, though: it is unbearably sad. Wharton conjures up her characters so exactly and so simply, speaking bluntly through their pretenses through the eyes of Boyle (and thus telling us much about him) that we feel we know them. I don't want to give too much away, as part of this book's appeal while reading was not knowing where it was going to lead, but some interesting points include the following.

There is a distinct role reveral in the strange world the Wheaters inhabit of adults and children. The children's various parents behave in such a childish manner, following their whims and indulging in their sensual desires to the detriment of their children's welfare - indeed, the seeming lack of concern for the children's welfare is shocking and therefore very emotive to the reader, although treated as commonplace by the circle the family move in. It was interesting, I thought, that Wharton made it abundantly clear whose 'side' we ought to be on throughout the novel. The children themselves - especially Judith - have a very adult knowledge of the world and the way grown ups behave, but in other ways are completely naive and uneducated. Judith herself has taken on the responsibility of six siblings for several years and is thus an odd and incomprehensible mixture of adult and child. As in The House of Mirth, where Wharton explores the idea of women as property, children here are often viewed as property to be disposed with as adults see fit, and as a commodity of bargaining between marriages and divorces.

The title of this blog refers to a thought Boyle has on his last meeting with his fiancee Rose Sellars, is a widow he has loved his whole life and who is dragged into his relationship with the Wheater children and particularly his relationship with Judith. Rose is an interesting character as she seems to stand for all that is respectable and correct - Boyle once thinks of her as 'all made of light and reason' and Wharton frequently uses the word 'perfect' to describe her appearance, behaviour and responses to situations. She is almost the book - and Boyle's - moral standard, but to say more might give away too much plot!

That was quite long but I could have said more! So apologies if you've waded through all of that. It's a book I can wholly recommend if you are at all interested in American literature, women's writing, literature from the turn of the last century (Wharton in many ways reminds me of Henry James, who I am learning to love after reading The Portrait of a Lady and The European) or anything to do with how people behave and why. Don't read if you like action, adventure and obviousness! (If that's a word; I hope you understand what I mean.)



In other news, some of you (*cough cough*) will be glad to see that the colour scheme has changed - apparently pink is "too girly", and, not wanting to encourage the widely-held belief that literature is a girls' subject, I have changed to a more universal green which I hope meets with approval all round! Also, today I watched the first part of ITV's 'Lost in Austen' which I was a little sceptical about to begin with, its premise being a young, disillusioned London girl - Amanda Price - getting trapped in Pride and Prejudice, where none of the characters realise they do not actually exist. Actually, I found it was quite cleverly done with its gentle mockery of the cult status of the novel (of Mr Darcy, Amanda says, "He's not Colin Firth, but then even Colin Firth wasn't Colin Firth - they had to resize his head!") and the amusing attempts Amanda makes to speak with the language of the time but ending up adding in more modern phrases, to the bemusement of the Bennetts. Plus, Mr Bennett is even more caustic and entertaining than in the novel itself, and he is possibly my favourite character in the original! As an aside, I'm not entirely sure I understand the Pride and Prejudice craze; my favourite Austen book is actually Mansfield Park (except for the ending, which seems to me too contrived to be believable). Also in TV world, BBC are planning an adaptation of Tess of the D'Urbervilles which I will attempt to catch as it's one of my Hardy favourites despite the fact that I want to stop it before it's begun, such is the grinding inevitability of the downward spiral of poor Tess's life.

Lastly, I paid a visit to a more local library today and was excited to pick up Vikram Seth's An Equal Music (1999) which I can't wait to continue with - I read a couple of chapters earlier and was hooked by Seth's delicate and beautiful prose and deft characterisations. The Daily Telegraph called it 'The finest novel about music ever written in English' which makes me wary - surely that depends on how much you know of music to know what good writing about music is? - but then I can believe anything good about Seth. On my gap year I read his epic A Suitable Boy and absolutely loved it and was completely engaged throughout the whole 1400 pages. Anyone who has any interest at all in India or indeed in great literature should give some time to it.