#one of the major themes of the novel is “rumors spread and people make shit up”

[tea-cat-arts]

I agree that Yu Ziyuan should not be nurturing, but about her abusive tendencies: It's described and shown to us multiple times in the novel and every adaptation that Yu Ziyuan's abusive treatment toward Wei Wuxian (and Jiang Cheng) was NOT simply "standard for the time", and that she went so above and beyond that people from other sects (like Wen Qing) knew about it without ever meeting her or Wei Wuxian. The Lan flogging, though harsh, was treated more or less as standard for the time, but Yu Ziyuan'a abuse, physical and otherwise, is specifically highlighted and treated as excessive.

In the novel, it is explicitly said that she's usually very VERBALLY abusive, but excessive physical abuse was unusual.

I'm very strongly of the belief that her whipping wwx in front of the Wens should not be included in discussions of their usual dynamic. Those were exceptional circumstances and even wwx while getting whipped acknowledges that this needs to happen to prevent the Jiang clan from getting attacked.

Wen Qing doesn't comment on Madam Yu in the novel, and in the donghua, her only comment is something along the lines of "your injuries aren't that bad, she must not have hated you as much as I thought." I haven't watched The Untamed and cannot comment on how her actions are treated there

In the novel, it's actually the Lan flogging that's acknowledged as excessive

[moldybanana-blog1]

Review of The House of Mirth

I was organizing my bookshelf when I realized that I own a surprisingly low number of books written by female authors. In fact, after reviewing a log of the novels I have read in the past year, I discovered that for every female author there are six or seven men. (My music catalog is even worse, with less than 10% of the albums I regularly listen to created by women.) All different nationalities, races, and subject matters are represented, but gender diversity is sorely lacking. In an effort to consciously seek out the female perspective, I decided to read The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton, the author of my favorite book I read in English class this year, Ethan Frome. The two novels could not be father apart, both in theme and setting. Where Ethan Frome is a story of a gloomy Vermont winter, The House of Mirth examines gender and class in New York high society. The fashionable Lily Bart, living a life of luxury she can’t afford, is desperately in search of a wealthy and respectable husband. She becomes mired in controversy after rumors of extramarital affairs afloat. Ostracized by her friends and family, Lily finds the “dinginess” of working class life unbearable.

Although husband hunting plays a central role in the novel, The House of Mirth is not a love story. Instead, it painfully reveals how self-determination, financial dependence, and gender relations are inextricably linked. After her parent’s deaths, Lily was left with little to no inheritance. She is taken in by Aunt Julia Peniston, whose regular allowance is not able to cover Lily’s growing gambling and shopping habits. Although she lives off the generosity of her many wealthy friends, spending the majority of her time in vacation houses along the East Coast or in Europe, Lily constantly teeters of the brink of financial ruin. 

With numerous failed attempts at matrimony, most due to her own stubbornness, Lily seeks alternative forms of revenue. She uses her good looks as currency. Both of Lily’s attempts to reap financial benefits from charming men around her, in the form of loans and prolonged shelter, lead to scandal. On two different occasions in the book Lily is silently suspected of having affairs with married men. As rumors spread, and her reputation becomes permanently tarnished, Lily is forced assemble hats to make ends meet. Bad turns to worse as Lily dies after accidentally overdosing on sleep syrup.

Lily’s tragic descent is a result of gender norms that prevent women from achieving the same financial independence as men. To a large extent, Lily fulfills her womanly “obligations”. She laughs, smiles and nods at all the right times; she is a skilled conversational. In fact, her uncanny ability to mold her personality to whomever she is talking to comes off as slightly disturbing. “Who is the real Lily Bart?” I often asked myself. It seems that hiding one’s true desires and wishes – and instead playing a continuous game of charades – is yet another required sacrifice of womanhood. It’s only when Lily fails to follow social convention that misery knocks on her door. In the beginning of the novel she stands up Percy Gryce, putting an end to their otherwise inevitable engagement. It’s clear that part of her wants to wait for true love – but only part. The internal tension between conformity and silent resistance is a central theme of the book.

However tragic Lily’s circumstances, her reactions against them are even more frustrating to observe. I would argue that if Lily decided to completely cast off the cloak of society, and abandon all its rules, the story’s end would be much different. Unfortunately, Lily is too obsessed with the superficial comfort of elite society, and the wealth that surrounds it, to risk upsetting her social standing. Throughout the novel, I imagined alternative futures for Lily. If she had not feared spinsterhood, Lily could happily grown old with her most loyal friend, Gerty Farish, contributing her time to this or that philanthropic endeavor. Or better yet, she could have married Lawrence Selden, a suitor whose intelligence and charm make up for his lack of money. The latter is made impossible by Lily’s all-consuming fear of “dinginess”. While The House of Mirth is a feminist triumph, critiquing the unfair limitations put on women, it also criticizes the nouveaux riche of New York for their material obsessions. Lily and her set value silk and diamonds over friendship, love, and happiness. 

Wharton’s ability to fully embrace a complex character, whose charm and cleverness is complimented by her snobbery, is admirable. Lily’s inability to take control of her own fate, instead succumbing to the confines of society, is a more accurate reflection of human nature than a Wonder Women character, who doesn’t give two shits about what other people think. Despite the luxury present throughout the novel, The House of Mirth is gritty and pessimistic. Wharton argues that circumstance and society, while obstacles, are not the ultimate enemies of happiness; instead, it’s Lily’s own insecurities that causes her untimely death.