I finished Sara Jeannette Duncan’s A Daughter of To-Day nearly a year ago, and have been meaning to write a review of it ever since, although I have been scuppered by the fact that there are too many things I like about it. It’s a Portrait of the Artist as a Young Girl book, and it meanders a bit at the beginning - in fact for about the first third
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My classic literature is patchy at best, so I'm trying to think of novels I've read where the socially-misfit woman dies by her own hand...I suppose Rebecca counts, in a roundabout sort of way, but that certainly felt in character. The only other example I can think of is The House of Mirth, and that one felt like it worked as well. I particularly liked how Lily's intent was left open; she'd been warned of the risks of the laudanum, yes, but nothing in her manner indicated that she was suicidal; on the other hand, much as with Elfrida here, her whole life was based upon posing - in this case, to be socially acceptable rather than artistic - so she probably wouldn't have admitted that it was her intent, even to herself.
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I actually found the ending of House of Mirth awfully frustrating precisely because Lily Bart's death is presented as basically an accident - it seemed like cheating to me, the same way that having her conveniently struck by lightning would have been cheating. If the book had presented it as intentional suicide (or at least intentional tempting-of-fate that ultimately tempted fate farther than Lily might have liked) - well, I still wouldn't have liked the ending (and Selwyn showed up at her place THE VERY NEXT DAY to sort things out between them and confess his feelings! WHY, EDITH WHARTON), but it would have seemed fair.
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That said, I suspect the answer to your "WHY" is for precisely this reason - so we would be howling her name in sadness and frustrtaion for generations to come. :)
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And I think you're right about Edith Wharton, which is probably why the ending annoys me: I can feel her in the background, basking in glee as she envisions generations of tearfully furious readers. Sara Jeannette Duncan doesn't seem to be taking pleasure in my suffering over her ending in quite the same way.
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