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Reeling Reviews.com
by Robin Clifford

Very possibly, no story better conveys what few choices women had before feminism than Edith Wharton's The House of Mirth. Its heroine, Lily Bart, has everything -- beauty, charm, intelligence, breeding, scruples -- but no money of her own or any means of supporting herself without a husband. The result is heart-crunching tragedy.

Now a film starring Gillian Anderson, Laura Linney and Eric Stoltz, the book is also available as an unabridged audio edition (Audio Partners, $34.95), read by actress and author Eleanor Bron. Listening to the audio edition would be a particularly enjoyable experience either before or after seeing the film since the book is so rich and textured. (And the audio edition offers 12 glorious hours of Wharton's precise, unflinching observations about society and people.)

Wharton's genius is apparent in the way she illuminates the artificial world that both created Lily and that Lily adorns. Published in 1905, Mirth details the moneyed classes, both old and new, at the dawn of the 20th century: the loveless pursuit of rich marital prospects by both men and women (Lily's male cousin bags an heiress), the perilous position of a desirable single woman, the raging dysfunction of many marriages. Once encountered, few forget the tormented bond between the cuckolded George Dorset and his adulteress wife, Bertha.

The story revolves around Lily Bart who, approaching 30, has not caught the wealthy husband everyone expected. A possible match with the staid,dreary Percy Gryce beckons, but Lily chooses a walk with the poor but insightful Lawrence Selden.

Wharton makes it clear that the lovely Lily is not without her faults. She can be thoughtless, self-indulgent and naïve. Her dealings with the seething Gus Tranor, with his barely restrained sexuality, lead to disaster. One important point: Modern readers will be disturbed in the presentation of Simon Rosedale. A rising plutocrat, the Jewish Rosedale is pathetically eager to rise socially and Wharton's depiction of him is offensively stereotyped. Mothers and teenaged daughters, however, will debate his businesslike offer of marriage to Lily, particularly after the tape is finished. The beautiful Lily comes to a bad end. Although Wharton is best known for The Age of Innocence, there are those who find Mirth more compelling.

As always with Wharton, the minor characters resonate: the extortion-minded charwoman, Lily's ungenerous aunt, her quietly bitter cousin, the faded Englishman with a title but little gold. Set in New York amid marble mansions on Fifth Avenue and lavish country estates, the story also ventures to the sweatshops of the poor and the gambling casinos of Europe.

Bron's voice is simply captivating. She wonderfully delineates the languid stupidity of Judy Tranor, the feral instincts of Bertha Dorset, the despair in Lily's voice as she drifts to destruction.

THE END

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