I don't know why I did that. These books are depressing as fuck.
House of Mirth, Edith Wharton
The Age of Innocence, Edith Wharton
Ethan Frome, Edith Wharton
The Custom of the Country, Edith Wharton
There's an interesting thread of pre-feminism here, about how all of her female characters are useless and trivial and shallow, but only because (explicitly underlined multiple times in the text) that is how they're raised to be, and if they were ever given a chance to be anything else, everything might be different.
Actually I don't know if Undine in The Custom of the Country could ever be different, but the rest of them, probably so.
Ethan Frome is so useless.
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