It's not entirely clear as to why this particular work is regarded as McCarthy's masterpiece. If that's truly the case, then I might just skip her other works. This book seems to go on and on interminably, delving into the post-graduate lives of eight students or friends from Vassar back in the 1930s. None of the characters are in any way redeemable or likable. Even if you initially start to have some semblance of liking for one of them, the other characters are all so cattily and tritely written that they often reveal their true feelings of superiority over their classmates in the subsequent chapters. The novel is littered with numerous references to works of literature, poetry, and foreign languages, almost hinting that if you're unfamiliar with these asides, you belong to the category of the uncultured. In essence, it's a novel about being part of a clique where none of the members even seem to like one another, let alone those who aren't part of this privileged circle. It's truly a waste of over 400 pages.
Reading this book is like indulging in a very dry gin martini, shaken to perfection and not stirred. It is a work that demands close observation and careful description, always with a touch of acerbity. This was truly a pleasure to experience.
I recall skimming through this book at my Seattle grandmother's house during my high school days. At that time, I was mostly shocked by the frank portrayal of sex in the 1930s. Teenagers are often surprised to discover a world outside their own experience. I tucked this book away in the back of my mind, thinking it was something I should read at some point. Currently, I am reading books published in my birth year, and this was the first one. If it is any indication of the quality of writing in 1963, then it was a great year not just for me!
The book is written more like a series of short stories about the women in the group, tied together by Vassar, a wedding at the beginning, and a funeral at the end. In between, there are stories that I will never forget. Chapter 2, where Dottie loses her virginity, is a particular standout for me. Ms. McCarthy truly captures the universal awkwardness of this event, along with its attendant pleasant surprises, all in effortless and intelligent prose. I also loved one of the minor characters, Noreen Schmittlapp. She is utterly contemptible in some ways, yet so admirable in her ability to flaunt convention. She serves as a gorgeous counterpoint to some of the other more downtrodden and conventional characters.
This book makes me grateful for the era in which I was born, with access to resources like Our Bodies, Ourselves, rather than relying on Kraft-Ebbing for an education on human sexuality. I am glad that I have more choices than these women did. I am also glad that I can't be easily institutionalized for objecting to a spouse's affairs and physical abuse. However, I was equally struck by the way some things endure. Watch any of the dozens of bridal shows on television today and be amazed, as I am, by the notion that this is a woman's only day, the most important dress she'll ever spend too much money on, the ne plus ultra of life. The more things change, the more they stay the same (factoring in inflation, of course).