Henry James can be a bit of a tough nut to crack. I’ll be very honest; I prefer Edith Wharton, who was his protégée. I just find her funnier and sharpHenry James can be a bit of a tough nut to crack. I’ll be very honest; I prefer Edith Wharton, who was his protégée. I just find her funnier and sharper. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love and appreciate Mr. James' very interesting insights into his society, the upper crust on the American East Coast during the Gilded Age.
I find characters like Daisy Miller truly fascinating, and I love that while he doesn’t explore the events from her point of view, James still managed to write a fairly nuanced female character who isn’t a typical heroine of the age. Daisy is smart, stubborn and well-intentioned. She thinks that if people know her, they will understand that she acts in transparency and innocence. But that’s not how society works. For her, gentleman friends and suitors are pleasant to know and spend time with, but do not really mean anything beyond that. But other people make assumptions about the true nature of her acquaintances, her suitors’ intent, the implications of time spent together… You know, all that junk that may mean nothing but that reputations are built and destroyed on.
I think the central question of this book is book is: is Daisy simply an innocent girl, unaware of the potential ramifications of her actions, or is she too stupid to truly understand them? Is she being toyed with or is she simply enjoying herself? James never really settles that question, and while that may be frustrating, I appreciate it. I think he wanted the readers to decide who they thought Daisy was. I’d like to think she wanted to just be herself, and that the society gossips were more annoyances than meaningful critics to her, that she wanted to live a life she got to define, regardless of what they have to say.
I am also aware that this might say more about me than about Daisy, or Henry James, and that’s OK. Some books are Rorschach tests, and if this is well done, no one will interpret it the same way. I think this is one such book. It’s also a very quick read, if you are intimidated by James’ longer works. Recommended....more
This short, beautifully written yet incredibly straightforward novel shocked everyone when it was published in France in thTeenage girls. I hate them.
This short, beautifully written yet incredibly straightforward novel shocked everyone when it was published in France in the 50s. It had been written by a woman still in her teens and spoke frankly and plainly of sex and atheism, the narrator’s voice detached and amoral. Now, it’s no longer shocking – it’s mostly sad, a quick glimpse into the selfish and decadent life of post-war upper class Parisians. The story could be melodramatic, but somehow, Sagan doesn’t allow that easy mistake to happen. It is much more a product of the literature of the era, unaffected and matter of fact. That she wrote it at 18 goes to show that teenage girls have always had a fascination for tragedies, but she had the brain and talent necessary to turn the tale of a disastrous summer vacation into a melancholy story about the discovery of the nature of love and its consequences.
A seventeen year old girl named Cécile, and her widowed father Raymond, go spend the summer in a villa by the sea on the Côté d’Azur. Raymond is a womanizer who has never bothered to hide his lifestyle from Cécile, and he brings along his younger mistress Elsa with them. Cécile meets a young law student named Cyril and begins a budding romance with him. This could have been a perfect summer if Cécile’s late mother’s friend Anne had not decided to join them…
Anne is everything Elsa is not: she is very cerebral, she has a career, she is divorced and independent - she is very "comme il faut", respectable. Cécile at first can’t believe that Anne and her father would be interested in each other, but lo and behold, not only do they get together, but they quickly announce their engagement. Cécile, resentful to find that Anne won’t tolerate her indolent and spoiled lifestyle any longer, hatches a cruel plan to separate her from her father, by manipulating both Elsa and Cyril.
This book does not have a happy ending, and made me think both of Duras and Camus in the resigned attitude of their conclusion. One is tempted to close this book, raise a glass of wine and sadly toast: “C’est la vie!”.
The prose is gorgeous, vivid and quite sensual. If you can tolerate terrible teenage girls, this is absolutely worth a few hours....more
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