I have finally read The Awakening, something that a bazillion people have told me I need to read. It took an English class assignment for me to do it but it is done. The writing is outstanding but I did not like Edna one single bit and saw nothing but selfishness and it made me so angry. If I had read this at another time in my life I may have felt differently but, given my circumstances, I had no patience for her choices. That being said, I ADORED the other short stories that make up the remainder of this book. Yep, Kate Chopin could write. I wish she had known that more clearly when the was alive. Below are passages that I appreciated even while I wanted to wring the main character's neck.
It would have been a difficult matter for Mr. Pontellier to define to his own satisfaction or anyone else’s wherein his wife failed in her duty toward their children. It was something he felt rather than perceived, and he never voiced the feeling without subsequent regret and ample atonement…In short, Mrs. Pontellier was not a mother-woman. (10)
A certain light was beginning to dawn dimly within her, the light which, showing the way, forbids it. (17)
In short, Mrs. Pontellier was beginning to realize her position in the universe as a human being, and to recognize her relations as an individual to the world within and about her. This may seem like a ponderous weight of wisdom to descend upon the soul of a young woman of twenty-eight – perhaps more wisdom than the Holy Ghost is usually pleased to vouchsafe to any woman. But the beginning of things, of a world especially, is necessarily vague, tangled, chaotic, and exceedingly disturbing. How few of us ever emerge from such a beginning! How many souls perish in the tumult! (17)
Her marriage to Leonce Pontellier was purely an accident, in this respect resembling many other marriages which masquerade as the decrees of Fate. He fell in love, as men are in the habit of doing, and pressed his suit with an earnestness and an ardor which left nothing to be desired. He pleased her; his absolute devotion flattered her. She fancied there was a sympathy of thought and taste between them, in which fancy she was mistaken. Add to this the violent opposition of her father and her sister Margaret to her marriage with a Catholic, and we need seek no further for the motives which led her to accept Monsieur Pontellier for her husband. (24)
But that night she was like a little tottering, stumbling, clutching child, who of a sudden realizes its powers, and walks for the first time alone, boldly and with over-confidence. She could have shouted for joy. She did shout for joy, as with a sweeping stroke or two she lifted her body to the surface of the water. A feeling of exultation overtook her, as if some power of significant import had been given her to control the working of her body and her soul. She grew daring and reckless, overestimating her strength. She wanted to swim far out, where no woman had swum before. (37)
She perceived that her will had blazed up, stubborn and resistant. She could not at that moment have done other than denied and resisted. She wondered if her husband had ever spoken to her like that before, and if she had submitted to his command. Of course she had; she remembered that she had. But she could not realize why or how she should have yielded, feeling as she now did. (42)
She let her mind wander back over her stay at Grand Isle; and she tried to discover wherein this summer had been different from any and every other summer of her life. She could only realize that she herself – her present self – was in some way different from the other self. That she was seeing with different eyes and making the acquaintance of new conditions in herself that colored and changed her environment, she did not yet suspect. (54)
I would give up the unessential; I would give up my money, I would give my life for my children; but I wouldn’t give myself. I can’t make it more clear; it’s only something which I am beginning to comprehend, which is revealing itself to me. (64)
Edna looked straight before her with a self-absorbed expression upon her face. She felt no interest in anything about her. The street, the children, the fruit vender, the flowers growing there under her eyes, were all part and parcel of an alien world which had suddenly become antagonistic. (72)
She began to do as she liked and feel as she liked, (76)
It sometimes entered Mr. Pontellier’s mind to wonder if his wife were not growing a little unbalanced mentally. He could see plainly that she was not herself. That is, he could not see that she was becoming herself and daily casting aside that fictitious self which we assume like a garment with which to appear before the world. (77)
When Edna was at last alone, she breathed a big, genuine sigh of relief. (97)
Then Edna sat in the library after dinner and read Emerson until she grew sleepy. She realized that she had neglected her reading, and determined to start anew upon a course of improving studies, now that her time was completely her own to do with as she liked. (98)
She felt somewhat like a woman who in a moment of passion is betrayed into an act of infidelity, and realizes the significance of the act without becoming wholly awakened from its glamour. The thought that was passing vaguely thought her mind, “What would he think?” She did not mean her husband; she was thinking of Robert Lebrun. Her husband seemed to her now like a person whom she had married without love as an excuse. (104)
“I am going to move away from my house on Esplanade Street. Just two steps away,” laughed Edna, “in a little four room house around the corner. It looks so cozy, so inviting and restful, whenever I pass by; and it’s for rent. I’m tired looking after that big house. It never seemed like mine, anyway – like home…I know I shall like it, like the feeling of freedom and independence.” (107)
Conditions would some way adjust themselves, she felt, but whatever came, she had resolved never again to belong to another than herself. (108)
“When I left Mademoiselle Reisz today, she put her arms around me and felt my shoulder blades, to see if my wings were strong, she said, ‘The bird that would soar above the level plain of tradition and prejudice must have strong wings. It is a sad spectacle to see the weaklings bruised, exhausted, fluttering back to earth.’” (112)
The little house pleased her. It at once assumed the intimate character of a home, while she herself invested it with a charm which it reflected like a warm glow. There was with her a feeling of having descended in the social scale, with a corresponding sense of having risen in the spiritual. Every step which she took toward relieving herself from obligations added to her strength and expansion as an individual. She began to look with her own eyes; to see and to apprehend the deeper undercurrents of life. No longer was she content to “feed upon opinion” when her own soul had invited her. (127)
Before leaving Madame Ratignolle said: “In some way you seem to me like a child, Edna. You seem to act without a certain amount of reflection which is necessary in this life. That is the reason I want to say you mustn’t mind if I advise you to be a little careful while you are living here alone.” (130)
She was still stunned and speechless with emotion when later she leaned over her friend to kiss her and softly say good-by. Adele, pressing her cheek, whispered in an exhausted voice: “Think of the children, Edna. Oh think of the children! Remember them!” (149)
“The years that are gone seem like dreams – if one might go on sleeping and dreaming – but to wake up and find – oh! well! perhaps it is better to wake up after all, even to suffer, rather than to remain a dupe to illusions all one’s life…But I don’t want anything but my own way.” (151)
She felt like some new-born creature, opening its eyes in a familiar world that it had never known. (156)