Diving into Henry James’s “The Europeans” on Audible felt like crashing a high-society party from James’s own playbook. Rumor has it, the man was no stranger to the social whirlwind, reportedly hitting up 200 dinner parties in a single year. This novel, bubbling with the same energy, might just be the aftermath of those wild nights.
We’re thrown into a comedic caper that pits the Old World charm of Eugenia, the Baroness Munster, and her artsy brother Felix against the straight-laced New England vibe of their American relatives, the Wentworths. It’s like watching a tennis match where culture, not balls, gets volleyed across the net. The siblings, fresh from Germany and Eugenia’s crumbling morganatic marriage, find themselves in the Boston suburbs, sparking a cultural clash that’s more sparkler than dynamite but entertaining nonetheless. The encounter is rich with misunderstandings and misadventures, all served up with James’ impeccable flair for social observation.
James’ aesthetic leanings are unmistakably European, delighting in the old-world charm and sophistication that contrast sharply with his views on American decor. He observes American interiors and their attempts at design with a humorously critical eye, with lines that are both pointed and playful, like “the room of a certain vulgar nudity.”
Eugenia’s remark to her uncle, “You have heard of us then, you believe in us,” comes off as if she’s regarding herself almost like a ghostly figure, hinting at her self-awareness and perhaps a touch of self-mockery. This awareness shines a light on her understanding of the potential biases and judgments Mr. Wentworth might hold, thanks to her and her brother’s European ways. And yes, judgments are passed, though not with the intensity reserved for m-d Olenska in Wharton’s “The Age of Innocence.” Still, those New England puritans have a knack for casting a critical eye, albeit in a more subdued manner.
Felix, too, earns the title of an “apparition” in the eyes of Gertrude, Mr. Wentworth’s daughter. His abrupt entry into her world, marked by his distinctly European demeanor and fashion, renders him nearly spectral in her eyes. James notes, “She was deeply excited. She has never in her life spoken to a foreigner,” capturing Gertrude’s thrill at this novel encounter. This excitement isn’t just about meeting someone new; it’s about the allure of the unknown, a break from her cloistered existence, igniting a spark of adventure and curiosity by introducing her to a culture far removed from her own.
I’ve danced on both sides of this cultural tango myself. In 1991, my American cousin landed in Estonia, where my family and I lived at that time. We hadn’t set foot outside our borders, clueless about the wider world. His arrival was like an alien landing, complete with boxes of cereal he wouldn’t dream of swapping for our bologna sandwiches on what might as well have been cardboard bread. He guarded those cereals like treasure, leaving us to wonder — was he being rude, or just incredibly greedy?
Fast forward a few years, and I’m the one causing a stir, this time in Sicily. By then, I’d been wearing the label “American” for three years, thanks to my green card, but my English was still a work in progress. Nevertheless, the entire village turned out to gawk at the “Americans,” making us feel like we’d stepped right out of a spaceship. It was a comedy of errors, sure, but also a chance for a genuine exchange, as eye-opening as any sci-fi first contact. It was an invitation to expand our worlds, to learn and grow — proof that these encounters, as awkward as they might be, can enrich us in ways we never expected.
But do Henry James’s characters seize these moments of potential growth and understanding? Not quite. They seem to prefer the comfort of their well-trodden paths, nestled within their own beliefs and perspectives. It’s like they’re orbiting in separate universes, so entrenched in their ways that they become invisible to one another. This mutual incomprehension is captured perfectly by James when he delves into the enigma of Eugenia, noting, “There were several ways of understanding her: there was what she said, and there was what she meant, and there was something between the two, that was neither.” It’s this intricate dance of misinterpretation and missed connections that adds a layer of complexity to their interactions, leaving them a mystery to each other.
How does one bridge the gap between such distant family members? I’d propose a unifying round of good ol’ weed — pretty much a staple in America back then, though the jury’s out on whether it was the chill CBD variety or the more vibrant THC kind. Kicking things off with a modest 5mg per character could be just the ticket. A little shared laughter, a dose of relaxation, and perhaps those entrenched clichés would start to melt away. Who knows? With a bit of that green magic, they might just start seeing each other in a new light, shedding their preconceived notions and opening up to the genuine connection that’s been eluding them.
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