Anyway, now that I'm 2/3 of the way through it, I've been noticing a peculiar thing in the late 19th century high society of New York City. Now, I only say it is peculiar when comparing it to my own upbringing, so, really, there's probably not much potency to my observation.
You see, the agony of the book lies within Archer's inability to defy his society despite his undeniable love for Countess Olenska, the cousin of his fiancee. And of course, one thing leads to another, conversations in public lead to private meetings, and a confession of sorts pops out.
So I believe that the confession actually leads to more regret and agony if nothing comes of it other than knowledge of reciprocated attraction. Unfortunately for Olenska and Archer, Archer is a coward who has made one too many rash requests and boom boom boom, the snowball gains its speed. Perhaps the two would have been better off if nothing had ever been said. The "What if?" could have been a bit more blurry and more easily suppressed.
Now comes my confusion. How is it that a man and woman during that time were able to spend so much time alone together without an eyebrow or two raising? Granted, Olenska's caretaker had expressed a wish that Archer married her niece instead, everyone looked upon Olenska and Archer's interactions as completely familial - innocent.
That really would not have happened during my childhood days. For some reason, I had been taught that one-on-one time with guys would always lead to potential romancing, and premature romancing would always lead to heartbreak. I was told that extensive alone time with a guy meant that there was something more in the relationship. That would be fine if the couple were pursuing some courtship or in a relationship (and even this had its own set of rules), but improper if not the case. I took this seriously, I did, and thenceforth scrutinized every private conversation to see hints of romantic interest. I successfully ran away from those with the tiniest hints of interest, and bit on the ones I liked.
In "Doubt" private conversations between one nun and one priest required a third party lest some rumor of a scandal leak outside. So...is this mindset only in Christian circles?
I obviously don't have my questions well organized in this entry, but do you get the idea?
In Wharton's novel, there seems an incapability or a deliberate overlooking of the..."unpleasant." Everyone seems to be labelled already and follows suit to that label. Archer is a budding lawyer with the ideal, young pretty flower of a wife and could thus do no wrong. Even when he sought out Olenska he was doing it out of compassion, kindness and duty to his future family.
All this in the context of the novel is a bad thing, yet it definitely wouldn't be like that in my teen years. If a man was willing to take such steps for a woman, it is clear-cut romantic pursuit. Only Beaufort, whose character had been branded as an amorous sleazebag from the beginning had his actions perpetually questioned.
Anyway, I digress. I'm just musing about the differences between the society I can only imagine and the society I know for myself.
Maybe I should do this more; and maybe I should begin incorporating new vocabulary words so my labors of underlining, copying sentences, and typing up definitions won't be wasted.
