Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton
In the 1870s New York, where the gossip is as thick as the fog, Newland Archer is gearing up to marry May Welland, thinking they’re about to start the ultimate love story. Then, like a plot twist in a soap opera, he spots May’s cousin, Countess Ellen Olenska, at the opera, and suddenly, Newland’s heart has more butterflies than a garden in spring.
The Age of Innocence is quickly turning into The Age of “Did You Hear That?” because this is a society that thrives on the same excitement you get from a surprise birthday party — fun, as long as it’s not too surprising. Edith Wharton, acting as our guide through this world of whispers, shows us around with Newland, who’s about as prepared for an actual adventure as a cat is for a bath.
Enter Ellen, the human equivalent of wearing sneakers to a gala, and Newland is smitten — not just with her but with the thought of breaking free from his golden cage. Wharton, with a mischievous smile, uses Newland to poke fun at the elite, turning our expectations on their heads and making us wonder who’s really in charge.
But then, Wharton takes us deeper, showing us the cracks in the facade. Newland starts
seeing his world for the charade it is — a society where everyone knows about the philandering husband and his oblivious wife but chooses to ignore it, living in a “hieroglyphic world” of unwritten rules and silent judgments. It’s a place where men trudge to their dull jobs, and where Ellen throws shade with her witty quips about America being a second-rate Europe, where progressive men are lamenting women being oppressed, and our protagonists take a stroll around a new Metropolitan Museum building grounds.
Wharton doesn’t just give us a love story; she gives us a mirror, asking why we bother discovering new worlds if we’re just going to make them as dreary as the old ones. Through Newland’s eyes, we see a society so obsessed with keeping up appearances that they miss the essence of life itself. Mr. Welland pops in now and then, almost like a ghostly reminder of the caricature Newland could become if he’s not careful.
In this comedy of manners, Wharton is giving us a cheeky nudge, reminding us that the biggest risks aren’t always about doing something scandalous like, say, sneaking a goldfish into someone’s bed. Sometimes, the biggest risk is not living at all, getting stuck in a world where change is the scariest ghost story and where every year, people lament the city’s decline from its golden days.
The Age of Innocence ends up being not just a nudge but a full-on elbow to the ribs, a funny yet poignant reminder that the only tragedy greater than lost love is never chasing it in the first place. Wharton invites us to laugh at Newland’s world, but also to see a bit of our own world in his — a world where, perhaps, we’re all just a bit too scared to step outside our beautifully gilded cages.
How do you get the oh-so-proper folks of Wharton’s world to loosen up, when even a deep chat seems as daunting as skinny-dipping in Central Park? Forget the heavy artillery like MDMA — that’s like using a cannon to pop a balloon for these gentle hearts. Instead, picture this: a sacred cacao ceremony.
Here’s the scene: Archer, May, and Ellen swapping their stiff upper lips for cups of ceremonial cacao, this ain’t your average espresso buzz. This brew’s got theobromine, more of a heart hugger than a nerve nudger, promising a euphoric vibe that could make even the most buttoned-up New Yorker feel like they’re in a constant warm hug.
Now, add a dash of rose to that cacao for a heart-opening elixir, and suddenly, our 19th-century trio are in a sound bath, not in a lavish parlor, but maybe a minimalist loft in Brooklyn. They’re crying, laughing, spilling secrets and dreams like they’re at a college sleepover.
How would Edith Wharton caption this picture? Probably with a snort and a swift pen, sketching a hilarious scene of New York’s finest, teacups in hand, having a group therapy session led by a cacao shaman. In this world, the real scandal isn’t an affair, but admitting you might just prefer this kind of party.
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