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THE CUSTOM of the COUNTRY: New Edition, by Edith Wharton

THE CUSTOM of the COUNTRY: New Edition, by Edith Wharton

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THE CUSTOM of the COUNTRY: New Edition, by Edith Wharton

THE CUSTOM of the COUNTRY: New Edition, by Edith Wharton



THE CUSTOM of the COUNTRY: New Edition, by Edith Wharton

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"Undine Spragg—how can you?" her mother wailed, raising a prematurely-wrinkled hand heavy with rings to defend the note which a languid "bell-boy" had just brought in. But her defence was as feeble as her protest, and she continued to smile on her visitor while Miss Spragg, with a turn of her quick young fingers, possessed herself of the missive and withdrew to the window to read it. "I guess it's meant for me," she merely threw over her shoulder at her mother. "Did you EVER, Mrs. Heeny?" Mrs. Spragg murmured with deprecating pride. Mrs. Heeny, a stout professional-looking person in a waterproof, her rusty veil thrown back, and a shabby alligator bag at her feet, followed the mother's glance with good-humoured approval. "I never met with a lovelier form," she agreed, answering the spirit rather than the letter of her hostess's enquiry. Mrs. Spragg and her visitor were enthroned in two heavy gilt armchairs in one of the private drawing-rooms of the Hotel Stentorian. The Spragg rooms were known as one of the Looey suites, and the drawing-room walls, above their wainscoting of highly-varnished mahogany, were hung with salmon-pink damask and adorned with oval portraits of Marie Antoinette and the Princess de Lamballe. In the centre of the florid carpet a gilt table with a top of Mexican onyx sustained a palm in a gilt basket tied with a pink bow. But for this ornament, and a copy of "The Hound of the Baskervilles" which lay beside it, the room showed no traces of human use, and Mrs. Spragg herself wore as complete an air of detachment as if she had been a wax figure in a show-window. Her attire was fashionable enough to justify such a post, and her pale soft-cheeked face, with puffy eye-lids and drooping mouth, suggested a partially-melted wax figure which had run to double-chin. Mrs. Heeny, in comparison, had a reassuring look of solidity and reality. The planting of her firm black bulk in its chair, and the grasp of her broad red hands on the gilt arms, bespoke an organized and self-reliant activity, accounted for by the fact that Mrs. Heeny was a "society" manicure and masseuse. Toward Mrs. Spragg and her daughter she filled the double role of manipulator and friend; and it was in the latter capacity that, her day's task ended, she had dropped in for a moment to "cheer up" the lonely ladies of the Stentorian. The young girl whose "form" had won Mrs. Heeny's professional commendation suddenly shifted its lovely lines as she turned back from the window. "Here—you can have it after all," she said, crumpling the note and tossing it with a contemptuous gesture into her mother's lap. "Why—isn't it from Mr. Popple?" Mrs. Spragg exclaimed unguardedly. "No—it isn't. What made you think I thought it was?" snapped her daughter; but the next instant she added, with an outbreak of childish disappointment: "It's only from Mr. Marvell's sister—at least she says she's his sister." Mrs. Spragg, with a puzzled frown, groped for her eye-glass among the jet fringes of her tightly-girded front. Mrs. Heeny's small blue eyes shot out sparks of curiosity. "Marvell—what Marvell is that?" The girl explained languidly: "A little fellow—I think Mr. Popple said his name was Ralph"; while her mother continued: "Undine met them both last night at that party downstairs. And from something Mr. Popple said to her about going to one of the new plays, she thought—" "How on earth do you know what I thought?" Undine flashed back, her grey eyes darting warnings at her mother under their straight black brows. "Why, you SAID you thought—" Mrs. Spragg began reproachfully; but Mrs. Heeny, heedless of their bickerings, was pursuing her own train of thought. "What Popple? Claud Walsingham Popple—the portrait painter?" "Yes—I suppose so. He said he'd like to paint me. Mabel Lipscomb introduced him. I don't care if I never see him again," the girl said, bathed in angry pink. "Do you know him, Mrs. Heeny?" Mrs. Spragg enquired.

THE CUSTOM of the COUNTRY: New Edition, by Edith Wharton

  • Published on: 2015-09-14
  • Original language: English
  • Dimensions: 9.21" h x .50" w x 6.14" l,
  • Binding: Paperback
  • 218 pages
THE CUSTOM of the COUNTRY: New Edition, by Edith Wharton

Review 'Wharton captures with masterly ease the world of post-Civil War America in this brilliantly-written and highly-entertaining novel.' Charles Osborne, Sunday Telegraph

From the Publisher First published in 1913, Edith Wharton's The Custom Of The Country is scathing novel of ambition featuring one of the most ruthless heroines in literature. Undine Spragg is as unscrupulous as she is magnetically beautiful. Her rise to the top of New York's high society from the nouveau riche provides a provocative commentary on the upwardly mobile and the aspirations that eventually cause their ruin. One of Wharton's most acclaimed works, The Custom Of The Country is a stunning indictment of materialism and misplaced values that is as powerful today for its astute observations about greed and power as when it was written nearly a century ago.

From the Inside Flap Highly acclaimed at its publication in 1913, The Custom of the Country is a cutting commentary on America's nouveaux riches, their upward-yearning aspirations and their eventual downfalls. Through her heroine, the beautiful and ruthless Undine Spragg, a spoiled heiress who looks to her next materialistic triumph as her latest conquest throws himself at her feet, Edith Wharton presents a startling, satiric vision of social behavior in all its greedy glory. As Undine moves from America's heartland to Manhattan, and then to Paris, Wharton's critical eye leaves no social class unscathed.


THE CUSTOM of the COUNTRY: New Edition, by Edith Wharton

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Most helpful customer reviews

112 of 118 people found the following review helpful. Wharton's Best By Susan S. Platt What a marvelous author Edith Wharton is! I like to copy passages from her books just to feel how beautifully she constructs her sentences and paragraphs. I've also read Ethan Frome, Summer, House of Mirth, and Age of Innocence; they are all terrific novels. But The Custom of the Country is her best. Could there be a worse mother, wife, or daughter than Undine? And yet, she is too pathetic to hate; she is so needy and dependent upon material things. She's perhaps the most unliberated woman in literature! Do read this novel; you will love it and learn from it.

35 of 36 people found the following review helpful. This is Wharton's Real Masterpiece By F. L. Daugherty This is Edith Wharton's real masterpiece. Before reading this novel recently (I'd hardly heard of it before), I'd read her much more famous "Age of Innocence" and "House of Mirth." I thought they were okay -- beautiful descriptive passages, brilliant flashes of psychological and political insight, but with boring characters and lame story lines. "The Custom of the Country" has all the fine qualities you expect to find in a good Wharton novel, but with an absolutely amazing protagonist -- Undine. "The Custom of the Country" is "Vanity Fair," with its much paler Becky Sharp, squared. This is what Thackeray would have written if he'd had a much keener and colder eye -- and a blacker sense of humor. This is now in my novelistic top ten -- along with (if you want to know some other books I like before taking my advice and buying/reading this): "Moby-Dick," "The Man Without Qualities," "Blood Meridian," "Remembrance of Things Past," and Burroughs' last major novel "The Western Lands."

31 of 32 people found the following review helpful. A spoilt heiress destroys the lives of all she meets. By A Customer I have just finished reading Edith Wharton's THE CUSTOM OF THE COUNTRY and have never wanted to strangle a protaganist so much in my life! Ms. Wharton has created a character that could rival any modern day soap opera vixen. Undine Spragg is spoilt, selfish, vain and socially ambitious. When Ms. Wharton writes from her perspective, I found myself at times feeling sorry for her. When she writes from the perspective of the people Undine ruins, I despised her. In the end, there is nothing kind that I can say about Undine Spragg. About Ms. Wharton, however, I can say she has again reestablished herself as a literary genius. In the character of Undine, Ms. Wharton criticizes the emptiness of greed mixed with vanity in a shallow person who knows nothing else. However, Ms. Wharton also makes it clear that Undine is not soley to blame for her character. "It is the custom of the country" her second father-in-law explains of Undine's stupidity, insensitivity and unending selfishness. Women who are so totally pampered and kept ignorant of the real world remain spoilt brats until they are old enough to truly hurt so many lives. The two saddest victims of her ruthlessness are her second husband Ralph, a sensitive writer from an old-money family, and their son Paul. Though it is doubtful anyone will like Undine, you will at times pity her. However, the genius of Edith Wharton is that through Undine we see the destruction of society and families by the ridiculous treatment of women in society of early 1900's. Another note on this particular edition of this and all Everyman books is that they are so beautifully crafted, it is always a treasure to read any book printed by this company. Besides being beautifully designed, Everyman editions also have wonderful chronologies of the author and historical references and literary events. They are truly elegant additions to any library.

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THE CUSTOM of the COUNTRY: New Edition, by Edith Wharton
THE CUSTOM of the COUNTRY: New Edition, by Edith Wharton

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