I am a fan of Edith Wharton and have read around seven of her novels, some of which are part of my personal canon. However, I have only read a couple of her short stories, and she wrote quite a few of those too. In fact, she was a prolific writer. And so, when last week’s Library of America story turned out to be one of hers, I decided to read it.
“A journey” was written, according the brief introductory notes, in the 1890s when Wharton was in her late 20s to early 30s. It was written during the time when she was married – unhappily – to Edward Wharton, from whom she was eventually divorced in 1913. The notes say that three of the stories written during the 1890s explore marital misery, and that the journey in this story “becomes a metaphor for an unhappy marriage”.
That could be so, but let’s get to the story. It describes a train journey in which a young woman is accompanying her terminally ill husband back to their home in the East after having spent some time, under doctor’s orders, in Colorado. The story starts with:
As she lay in her berth, staring at the shadows overhead, the rush of wheels was in her brain, driving her deeper and deeper into circles of wakeful lucidity. The sleeping car had sunk into its night silence. Through the wet window-pane she watched the sudden lights, the long stretches of hurrying blackness …
The next paragraph briefly chronicles their short marriage and the sudden disparity between them as his health collapses:
a year ago their pulses had beat to one robust measure; both had the same prodigal confidence in an exhaustless future. Now their energies no longer kept step …
And then here is the entire third paragraph:
When they married, she had such arrears of living to make up: her days had been as bare as the white-washed school-room where she forced innutritious facts upon reluctant children. His coming had broken in on the slumber of circumstance, widening the present till it became the encloser of remotest chances. But imperceptibly the horizon narrowed. Life had a grudge against her: she was never to be allowed to spread her wings.
Oh dear … methinks the note-makers at the Library of America are right. It’s not what is said so much as what is not said and how what is said is said. What is not said is anything about true love and empathy (though we are told in the fourth paragraph that “she still loved him of course”). In other words, there is no sense of the looming tragedy of the loss of a soul-mate. As for how it is all said, the language is heavy and gloomy. It’s clearly raining, and there are “shadows” and the “hurrying blackness” (a metaphor, presumably, for his coming death, as well as being a literal description of night). The paragraph describing his appearance in her life and their marriage is not exactly joyful either. The focus here is more on where she’d been, so the language is negative (“arrears”, “slumber”). And even the description of the possibilities opening up to her through marriage – “the encloser of remotest chances” – is not what you’d call expansive. No wonder she thinks life has a “grudge against her”. I would too.
The rest of the story is about a rather self-focused young woman. She goes through the motions of caring for her husband – and occasionally “warm gushes of pity [not “sympathy” or “love”, note!] swept away her instinctive resentment of his condition” – but her thoughts are all for herself. Here is her reaction to being in Colorado:
Nobody knew about her, or cared about her; there was no one to wonder at the good match she had made, or to envy the new dresses …
This is early Wharton. The hallmarks of her writing style are here – the careful choice of words to convey meaning that may be opposite to what’s expected, the development of character through those words, the build up of atmosphere and tension through a well-sustained tone – but it doesn’t quite have the tightness and singularity of purpose of her later works. We don’t get to understand the young woman well enough to be able to respond to her on anything more than a superficial level. I suspect that Wharton would want us to extend her some sympathy but I think we are more likely to see her as a little pathetic, and we really know almost nothing about the husband (except that he had been “strong, active, gently masterful”) so our reaction to his predicament is more intellectual than emotional.
As the journey proceeds, our heroine is faced with a moral dilemma, but she doesn’t take full responsibility for what is happening: “it seemed to be life that was sweeping her on with headlong inexorable force – sweeping her into darkness and terror”. The story, in fact, takes on some elements of horror fiction but that is not its intent and it doesn’t develop along those lines.
I particularly like Wharton when she tackles the intersection between societal expectations and character. This story has glimmers of that – but it’s not really elaborated. Nonetheless, it’s a good story that grabs you from the start with its oppressive atmosphere and foreboding tone. Even early Wharton, I’ve found, has much to offer her readers.
The Library of America
Originally published in a collection in 1899?
Note: Stef at So many books has recently reviewed Hermione Lee‘s biography of Wharton, and Kevin at Interpolations has extensively reviewed some of her novels.
23 thoughts on “Edith Wharton, A journey”
“It’s not what is said so much as what is not said and how what is said is said. What is not said is anything about true love and empathy….”
You know, I’ve had this same experience in my reading of Wharton. She’s very gifted at not saying just the right thing, at just the right time. The periphery of her prose glows, it does. Sometimes I think she’s conciously experimenting with non-mimetic representation but then get swept away by what she does say. She’s a real talent. I do wish, however, that she had given us a robust fictional account of the republic of the spirit, i.e., love, empathy, union, rather than successive bleak marital train wrecks. Maybe Age of Innocence, which I’ll read next, will add some color between the lines. Cheers, Kevin
Thanks Kevin for picking up on that. I like your take on it. As for what you wish, I’ll be interested in what you have to say about The age of innocence – but until then, my lips are sealed.
EW is a great favourite of mine. I haven’t read one of her novels in ages. Thanks for the nudge.
Pleased to have obliged Guy. Shall I look out for your coming review then? (BTW Am off on a another jaunt this am … will check out your latest review in a couple of days. The last two weeks have seen me on three trips away so my blog reading has been sorely tried).
No promises, Gummie. I’ve been meaning to get back to her, but then other books seem to become the priority. Don’t know about all this gadding about.
Poor Wharton, she was unhappily married. Teddy suffered from mental illness. Hermione Lee never really suggests what sort but it sounds like he was manic-depressive and the family knew it when they married Edith off to the guy.
Thanks for adding that Stefanie. The Lee biography is a must read for me one day I think. (Oh, I’ve just noticed I described you as Stef in my post. Is that OK? I didn’t mean to take such liberties).
Stef is tottally OK 🙂
That made for really fascinating reading. I haven’t read any of Wharton but not I will try to do so soon
She’s well worth it, Becky … I haven’t read one yet that I didn’t think was worth it.
Writing a story about a woman whose husband has a terminal illness when you yourself are stuck in an unhappy marriage – there is an uncomfortable sense of ‘if only’ about the choice of plot. Do you have a favourite book by Wharton and, if so, which is it?
Oh yes, zmkc, you don’t look for comfort in Wharton. Probably my favourite is The house of mirth. It has exactly that mix of societal conditions and character that I particularly love about Wharton. Her books were, for me, rather eye-opening about turn of the 20th century New York life.
Thanks for an insightful post. I’ve enjoyed the excerpts here. Thanks for the online link too… I must read this piece. You’ve shown me how ingenious Wharton’s writing is: not so much in what is said but what is not said, and how it is said. There are many words and phrases I love just from these few passages here, but this description particularly stand out for me: “… arrears of living to make up.” The Age of Innocence is one of my all time favourite films and I’ve yet to read the book. But it’s her short stories that I’ll explore first upon reading your post! 😉
Thanks Arti. Do read Age of Innocence. I can’t recollect how close the book was to the film but I think it was pretty good. Did you see The house of mirth? It starred Gillian Anderson and I really didn’t expect her to be up to it – she wasn’t at all how I envisaged Lily Bart to be – but she did a good job. Great book, and the film was pretty good too. Not amazing but good.
I have a vague memory of that movie, which I believe I’d seen years ago. I’m just curious, is this a special EW year? All these interesting posts on her. Now I must start with the short story you recommend.
Thanks Stefanie/Stef … I’ll relax now and use whatever comes to mind at the time!
LOL Guy … gadding has now stopped for a couple of months. It DOES I must say get in the way of blogging!!
Not that I know of Arti. A couple of bloggers have been reading her, I notice, but for me it was just one of the Library of American selections. And since I like her I decided to read it. I’ll be interesting to know what you think.
Just finished ‘A Journey’. This reads like a horror story, and very unsettling. Her writing has to be very good to stir up ripples like that in her readers’ mind I must say. Maybe because of her own unhappy marriage that she created a story like this?
Oh, so glad you read it and came back to comment Arti. It certainly does have a horror element … but it’s not a real “horror” story is it? I guess one has to feel that her feelings about her own marriage stimulated her to write such an unsettling, claustrophobic sort of story.
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I have yet to read anything by Wharton – much to my shame – the fact you have read seven of her books speaks for itself. You are certainly making the most of the Library of Congress resource and have encouraged me to explore it for myself.
The theme of this story is quite contemporary – the conflict between duty and “finding oneself”.
Yes, I never like to say “should” to another reader because there are more great books/writers out there than any of us will ever manage to read, but she is a good’un. She’s written some novellas – Ethan Frome is probably the best – if you want to just put your foot in the water with her.