This story tore my heart out. Quite appropriately, I finished listening to the audiobook on a frosty winter day following a heavy overnight snowfall. Gazing out at the white landscape from my warm and comfortable place, I pondered this strange tale (which took place in another - a fictitious - winter setting) and grasped for some pearl of wisdom or kernel of truth with which to soothe my heart.

Ethan Frome could have been a contemporary of ours. He entered adulthood optimistically -- with a dream, a goal for his life. His desire to become an engineer was a lofty ambition for a young person from a humble family but (like so many young people today) he had the confidence and the courage to venture beyond the security of his childhood home and begin a program of study in an unfamiliar environment.

Apparently Ethan felt comfortable at the college in Worcester, Massachusetts. He seemed to miss the camaraderie of academia when, after his father's injury in a farm accident, he returned home. We are told (in chapter 4) that --

At Worcester, though he had the name of keeping to himself and not being much of a hand at a good time, he had secretly gloried in being clapped on the back and hailed as "Old Ethe" or "Old Stiff"; and the cessation of such familiarities had increased the chill of his return to Starkfield.

It appears that Ethan had intended to postpone, not abandon, his education. He devised for himself a study of sorts (described in chapter 8) furnished sparsely with bookshelves on the wall, a box-sofa, and a kitchen table for a desk.

So what happened? How did a young man with such hopes and such promise become the "bleak and unapproachable", "stiffened and grizzled" "ruin of a man" that we meet at the beginning and encounter again at the end of the story? And why did the author write such a horrendous tale?

Life presented Ethan with some challenges. Who among us has not experienced that? Most people, at some point, face at least one life crisis which threatens to divert us from chasing our dreams, pursuing our goals. Some of us triumph over those challenges; some are defeated by them. Many of us wonder why this is so. Why was Ethan Frome among the defeated? Is this the question at the core of this story?

Perhaps Ethan Frome received more than his fair share (if there can be a "fair" share) of troubles. Crisis piled upon crisis - his father's injury and subsequent squandering of money; his own struggle to run the farm and saw-mill when his heart was not in it; his mother's mental instability and refusal to speak; the oppressive silence of long winter evenings. The result was a desperate existence.

So was Ethan Frome simply the victim of circumstance? Was there truly no way out? Could he not have turned his life around after his mother's death, sold the farm, "cut his losses", and resumed his studies at Worcester? Only a few years had passed since his student days; he was still a young man with a long life ahead of him.

On the night that he and Mattie walked home from the dance in Starkfield (when Ethan was 28), we are told that

Four or five years earlier he had taken a year's course at a technological college at Worcester, ...

For certain, a great deal had happened in those four or five years but surely young Ethan Frome still had options. What is the point of this story? Was it meant to be a morality tale, intended to illustrate some cliché or other? "Truth or deception" perhaps? Should he have lied to Mr. Hale about his request for an advance on the lumber? Or maybe "love or loyalty"? Should he have eloped with Mattie or was he obliged to remain in a loveless marriage?

It seems to me that the story is about something less cerebral, more primal than moral dilemmas. I believe that it speaks about a basic human need - a need which is felt in the gut, not acknowledged by the brain - the need for social interaction. When, after his mother's funeral, Ethan could have decided to sell the farm and be free to pursue his dreams, he chose instead to marry Zeena. Why? Because

... when he [Ethan] saw her [Zeena] preparing to go away, he was seized with an unreasoning dread of being left alone on the farm; and before he knew what he was doing he had asked her to stay there with him. (chapter 4)

In a moment of weakness -- before he knew what he was doing ...

The paragraph continues --

... He had often thought since that it would not have happened if his mother had died in spring instead of winter.

Ethan Frome could simply not see his way beyond the loneliness of winter to a potentially bright future. His dread of loneliness led him to make an impulsive, irrational choice. Out of the same sense of dread, the same fear, he made a split-second decision to go along with Mattie's "crazy" idea -- with disastrous consequences.

Fear can make people do crazy things. Ethan Frome feared loneliness. Although he was an introvert, the basic human need for social interaction drove him to make rash decisions. There were dire consequences and at the end of the story, at the age of 52, he was still lonely.

A kind of nihilistic version of Romeo and Juliet mixed with the Twilight Zone...truly depressing; but I suspect more true to life than we would want to admit.

Ethan Frome is my fourth Edith Wharton story and again, she has not disappointed. I came into this one blind, and I was expecting Wharton to provide another humorous study of the stuffy upper-class in New York society.

Well, this is not what she delivered on this occasion.

Ethan Frome lives in a rural fictional town in Massachusetts in the early 1900s. He only just scrapes out an existence from an unproductive, worthless piece of land. His horses are old and knackered, he has an old guy who helps out and a very sickly wife called Zeena who seems to be mostly bed-bound and miserable. This would normally engender some sympathy in the reader, but it is clear Wharton’s intention is to paint Zeena as a mean-spirited, hyper-critical person. I couldn’t stand her.

Early on we discover Ethan was badly injured in an accident many years ago, leaving him physically impaired, but still able to perform some duties. We are not sure what exactly happened to cause his injuries – Wharton adds a little tension and suspense here, as we discover the cause of his injuries. The hapless Ethan, also had to care for each parent before they passed away, and now he is caring for Zeena. Wharton makes us feel for this poor guy – it’s obvious the cards haven’t fallen his way………….and on top of all this, it is freezing cold, typical of this state in winter I understand. This gives the whole story a feeling of extreme hardship and misery.

Enter Mattie Silver, a young bright bubble of a woman, who comes to the house to help with the house duties due to Zeena’s incapacity – Mattie is related to Zeena, and is taken on because she herself has hit hard times. The three main characters of Ethan, Zeena and Mattie weave an interesting web – all largely as a result of Ethan’s obsession with the girl.

This makes for a fascinating story. Ethan is obviously conflicted, not only due to societal norms of the day, but also (in my opinion) due his own moral compass – Ethan is a good bloke. But how much can the man put up with?

Wharton increased the tension as this story progressed, growing to a surprising crescendo. I wont say if the ending was sad, happy or in between.

But, my oh my, Edith, you’ve done it again!!

4 Stars

And for the most of the book I was thinking its a brilliantly written, captivating yet quite predictable and generic story....
It made me angry, irritated, was thinking I'm grateful for liberalism and individualism, yet kept on wondering about differences in convenances now and then, and what currently ties us down to lives we don't want. Was thinking I have everything sorted out, and then BANG!!!
Perspective was changed, a rush of thoughts questioning my early judgments... brilliant stuff, well deserved 4 stars.

Ever read a book as required reading (in high school or college) and then, rediscover it as an adult? Ethan Frome had receded to the dark recesses of my mind such that I had even forgotten that I had read it. I remembered reading Age of Innocence, but good old Ethan had left my mental building. When my youngest son left his retired textbook edition at my house (an old Scribner’s edition in trade paperback priced at $1.25 original price—oh for those days again!), I grudgingly put it on one of my shelves of literature and told myself that I needed to read it someday. It wasn’t until I reread the book this week (thinking it was my first reading, but anticipating the events far too clearly as I turned each page) that I realized I had read it before and, for some reason, its powerful story had not stayed in my accessible conscious (I’m sure Jung could have explained it and, unfortunately, I can do so, as well.)

What makes a novel, “literature?” Is it the intricate precision of the prose interwoven with delicate artistic touches? If so, Ethan Frome doesn’t meet the criterion. Rather than clever metaphors and similes that sing from the page, there is a plodding, methodical stacking of word upon word that rivals the quiet, mysterious nature of the protagonist himself. Perhaps, the art is in making the rhythm of the story match the theme and characters. If so, Ethan Frome very clearly meets the criterion.

Does the cosmic significance of the plot or message transform a mere novel into “literature?” Again, Ethan Frome would fail the test. But if the criterion is that “literature” reveals something powerful about our human condition and causes us to both empathize with others (in this case, the characters) and re-evaluate our own attitudes and situations, the novel succeeds extremely well. When reviewing computer games, I always contended that art means something that changes our perspective and affects us as individuals (for good or bad). In that sense, Ethan Frome could also be classified as “art,” as well as “literature.”

What is it about this relatively short book that placed it on so many required reading lists? Personally, I think it is the expression of that universal human experience of encountering hope after trying to live through a bad personal decision (uninformed career choice, bad marriage, poor investment, misplaced trust in another person or an authority, etc.), only to have that hope shattered. This story is about reaching for that hope, having that hope stolen, experiencing the despair of loss of hope, attempting to counteract that despair, and living with the consequences.

Attempting to summarize the story without too many spoilers is quite difficult. It is the story of a poor man who gives up his hopes for a future outside his small New England village as a dutiful son and husband. Having entangled himself in a marriage from which he cannot gracefully extricate himself, he settles into what might be described as an emotional adultery by fixating upon another. [Having been trapped in a horrible marriage, myself, I don’t need Wharton to tell me that this doesn’t work or Jung to explain why I conveniently forgot that I had read this book when I was fixating upon, not one, but many others. If anything, this book where the physical expression of desire is limited to hands touching, an arm supporting, and the briefest of kisses manages to express most eloquently the wisdom of Jesus’ teaching about having “done it in one’s heart” being equivalent to committing adultery in deed.]

Yes, the theme of being imprisoned in a relationship is found in this novel as in Age of Innocence and the ideal of that wonderful, perfect relationship is captured in many heart-wrenching scenes, but Wharton deals with the issue as realistically as if she was writing from a later era. The results of the decision to break out of the imprisonment are, of course, disastrous. Nothing in the book is as simple as it initially appears. One has a sense of foreboding throughout the book that is deftly underscored by heavy foreshadowing (descriptions of the cutter, mysterious allusions to a tragic event, and more), but the final result is (at least, to me) even more tragic than one expects.

Ethan Frome is a tragedy in the Greek sense. As such, it fits neatly into the “literature” category in my taxonomy. It’s just that poor Ethan didn’t seem to have enough “hubris” to bring this tragedy on his head. He seems more a victim than a tragic protagonist, but he reflects a lot of victims who suffer through horrid relationships and would like to grasp at something that seems like an escape. Even escapes have consequences. The question is: “Which consequences can you best live with?” I wonder what Ethan would say about his choice if he were “real” and alive today.

Magnificent, spectacular... I somehow always feel I must assign many types of superlatives to the magnificent & spectacular Edith Wharton! Definitely top ten writers of ALL TIME contender. Her best is "Age of Innocence," & her not-as-much (personally, alas) is "House of Mirth", but sandwiched between them is this tense novella about the restrictions of "unconventional" feeling. & it has the type of invigorating force that compels the reader to do his one job and do it good. I adore this slim tome, admire Wharton for being absolutely angelic literature-wise in her rare & immense perfection.

I had already read most of Edith Wharton's major novels by the time I got around to reading Ethan Frome, and I was surprised by how different it was. Where did this come from? Wharton came from the high society of New York City which she so adeptly portrayed in The Age of Innocence and The House of Mirth. Ethan Frome was set in a small New England town aptly named Starkville, and concerns the life of a poor farmer and his unhappy marriage. His wife's cousin comes to live with them, Ethan falls in love and the story descends from there to it's tragic conclusion. It turns out Edith had heard an account of a sledding accident and thought it would make a good subject for a story. The unhappy marriage and subsequent love affair mirrored Wharton's own life. Ethan Frome remains one of Wharton's most recognized novels.

A strong showing for this text on the Top Ten Inanimate Objects in Literature list:

1) the handkerchief in Othello
2) the fruit in Paradise Lost
3) the cookie in Swann's Way
4) the pickledish in Ethan Frome
5) the letter in 'The Purloined Letter'
6) the cigarette in The Origin of the Brunists
7) the painting in Killing Commendatore
8) the manuscript in The Club Dumas
9) the ring in Lord of the Rings
10) the film in Running Dog

Finally, I have the right word for this predicament: When a capable author uses her prowess to create a work whose sole purpose seems to be to depress the reader, it can be described as Frome. This word can also be used as a verb, noun, adjective (Frome-ish, Frome-ier, etc), adverb (Frome-ly), etc. to similarly describe the effect it has on the reader, (ie, "I was Fromed.")

An example used in a sentence may be: "John Steinbeck was clearly suffering from a touch of the Frome when he penned The Pearl"
Or, "Can we go see a rom-com? These foreign films are beautiful but leave me feeling Fromey."

“If you know Starkfield, Massachusetts, you know the post-office. If you know the post-office you must have seen Ethan Frome drive up to it, drop the reins on his hollow-backed bay and drag himself across the brick pavement to the white colonnade: and you must have asked yourself who he was…”
-tEdith Wharton, Ethan Frome

Famously known as an acute observer of class and society in classics such as The Age of Innocence, Edith Wharton’s Ethan Frome strays far from her typical stomping grounds, leaving behind wealth and privilege to follow a struggling farmer who is exceedingly close to complete financial ruin. Despite the drastic change of scenery, she nevertheless delivers a hammer-blow of a doomed love story, in one of the least likely places imaginable.

The setting is the aptly named (and fictitious) village of Starkfield, a bleak and grim place that – like Narnia – seems caught in an endless winter. A million miles from New York City high society, the novel’s titular lead is a young man caught in a loveless marriage with a sickly, possibly hypochondriacal wife named Zenobia. The only glimmer of sunshine in Ethan’s gray world is his wife’s cousin, Mattie Silver, a beautiful, lively young woman who has come to live with them.

This rather dreary love triangle provides the setup for Wharton’s short, well-executed tragedy. I don’t think it is spoiling anything to say that this is a combination of Shakespeare, Anna Karenina, and the Winter Olympics.

Ethan Frome is a framed story, with a prologue and epilogue narrated in the first-person by an engineer who has traveled to Starkfield to do some work. While there, this observer becomes haunted by the image of an aged Ethan, the survivor of an ambiguously-labeled “smash-up.”

It was there that, several years ago, I saw him for the first time; and the sight pulled me up sharp. Even then he was the most striking figure in Starkfield, though he was but the ruin of a man. It was not so much his great height that marked him, for the “natives” were easily singled out by their lank longitude from the stockier foreign breed: it was the careless powerful look he had, in spite of a lameness checking each step like the jerk of a chain. There was something bleak and unapproachable in his face, and he was so stiffened and grizzled that I took him for an old man and was surprised to hear that he was not more than fifty-two.

Because of a snowstorm, the narrator is invited into Ethan's house, where he ostensibly learns the bits and pieces of Ethan’s tale. From there, and for the bulk of the book, Wharton switches to the third-person for what amounts to an extended flashback, showing how Ethan came to be that “ruin of a man.”

At 157 pages in length, Wharton has to make every word count. There is no fat, no wasted moments. The characters are drawn boldly. Though they lack great depth, they are mostly memorable. Of the trifecta, Mattie makes the least impression. She is a bit of a cipher, more symbol than person, existing mainly to show Ethan that there are worlds within worlds, and that he has the possibility of a different life.

Ethan is frustrating. Physically strong, he is mentally – and perhaps morally – weak. Just about everything that goes wrong in this novel could have been avoided by even average decision making. Then again, if everyone in fiction used common sense, there would be a lot less drama worth reading about. Though I didn't like him, I can't quite shake him, either.

In my opinion, Zenobia – who goes by Zeena – is the most memorable of Wharton’s creations. Heck, I'd go so far as to say that she's one of the more exceptional low-key villains I've encountered in American letters. Without ever raising her voice or hatching a plot, she skillfully wields her chilly demeanor, her highly refined passive-aggressiveness, and her preternatural understanding of her husband to get exactly what she wants. Though she is mostly hateful, Wharton eventually gives us a few insights into her personality that enrich our understanding of her.

Ethan Frome is a work that is extremely straightforward. The symbols are unambiguous, as is its central theme, that of small-town conventionality stunting an individual’s ability to find happiness and growth via unconventional pathways. Yet, the simplicity is deceptive. Though uncomplicated, the prose does a beautiful job of conveying the oppressiveness of Ethan’s existence, where the walls – represented by the weather, community expectations, and economic failures – are constantly closing in.

When I first read this is high school, I really liked it, and not only because it can be read comfortably in just a couple sittings, and requires no parsing of language to get its meaning. No, my attachment sprung from the repressed passion between Ethan and Mattie, and the way it seemed like the entire universe balanced on their love. At the time, such romantic nonsense really appealed to my sensibilities. As one example among many, I saw Titanic in the theater five times. Five times. While I truly love the historical ship, I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t also there for Leo and Kate and their brilliantly-flaming meteor of a relationship.

Now far removed from high school, I appreciate Ethan Frome on a different level. Ethan’s flaw is in failing to recognize that his problems go beyond the constricting ethical framework in which he is hemmed. His failure is not one of imagination – he knows there is a better life out there, for the taking – but of motivation. Hamlet-like in his dithering, Ethan has an unfortunate genius for choosing the worst option to a difficult question. Instead of looking for the way forward, he is looking for a way out, and that is not the same thing.

Ethan Frome rests on its ending. After all, from the very first page, we are teased with the riddle of Ethan’s fateful moment. For the book to work, the denouement has to work. I think it does. The finale is a bit operatic, bordering on black comedy, but it is effective because of Wharton’s unadorned, just-the-facts style. The epilogue, as well, provides a powerful kicker.

This is a novel that is written with assuredness and confidence. Wharton seems to know exactly what she’s doing with every word. Because of this, and because of her talent, Ethan Frome certainly belongs in the category of “classics.” With that said, it can feel like a minor one. It does not grapple with huge ideas or say something profound about an age. It’s just the story of an unhappy marriage, of a man one step shy of a fool, who can’t get anything to work. For all that, it’s really hard to forget. Certainly, it'll make you think twice about outdoor winter recreation.

Hay libros que son una caricia al alma y otros que son directamente un puñetazo. Espero no desvelar demasiado al decir que esta historia es ambas cosas. Parece mentira que un libro tan breve te haga transitar por emociones tan intensas y tan extremas entre sí.

Siento el mayor de los respetos por Edith Wharton por dos motivos principalmente: el primero, por hacer que lo difícil parezca fácil, ya que aunque su escritura es puro virtuosismo, sobre todo en lo que tiene que ver con el dominio narrativo y la creación de personajes, su estilo es sencillo, honesto y desprovisto de pretensiones. Y el segundo es que nunca deja de sorprenderme con finales ALUCINANTES donde, por más que intento adivinar por dónde va a tirar siempre logra dejarme noqueado.

Para mí este librito ha sido una auténtica delicia. Y ahora que (con suerte) os dejo con ganas de meterle mano, yo voy a ver si logro recomponer mis pedazos de lector conmovido...porque telita con la Wharton, me ha destrozado!!!

Lectura 2021:

“Las arboledas parecían reunirse en la nieve en grupos agitados, como pájaros con las cabezas bajo el ala; y el cielo se alejaba más al apagarse y dejaba más sola a la Tierra.”

A pesar de que casi nunca me animo a releer un libro, en este caso fue un gran acierto haberlo hecho. Por alguna razón había reprimido gran parte de la novela, con excepción del inicio y del final, el cual no ha dejado de sorprenderme.

Reencontrarme con personajes como Zeena, Mattie Silver y el protagonista Ethan Frome fue una muy grata experiencia, además de que Edith Wharton es de mis escritoras favoritas y su manera de escribir es tan profunda y cargada de detalles que te logra transportar al escenario de sus historias.

En fin, muy recomendable como todo lo que he leído de la autora.

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Lectura 2020:

Gran libro, es corto pero no por eso simple.
La complejidad de los personajes es magnífica y el final, aunque se conoce desde el principio a grandes rasgos, es crudo y se siente tan real como la historia misma.

Muy recomendable.