First published in 1905, The House of Mirth shocked the New York society it so deftly chronicles, portraying the moral, social a.nd economic constraints on a spirited woman who dared to claim the privileges of marriage without assuming the responsibilities

Picked up at the meetup.

I have mixed feelings about this book. It's a satire of the upper classes, which can only be a Good Thing. But there aren't many laughs for a satire, and, honestly speaking, I was glad to reach the end. The writing style is elegant but hard work. Every character in it is more or less despicable. Occasionally it would lull me into feeling pity for the protagonist, and I would start to agree that she's trapped, she's unprepared for life outside her milieu, in which she's expected to be more nothing more than decorative... But then she'd say something like she can't *bear* to be surrounded by ugliness and I'd think "Oh poor you. You can't afford to pay the bill for your brand new opera cloak. Oh BOO HOO."

Funny that her name's Lily Bart. It made me think of the story of how Bart Simpson's name came about: It's an anagram of brat.

I think the whole book is summed up in the exclamation of one of Lily Brat's spoiled, useless "friends" while on an extended holiday in Monte Carlo: "We're starving to death because we can't decide where to lunch."

Reserved for the BCUK Unconvention.

To be released somewhere in Nottingham this weekend.

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Picked up from the table ...