Edith Wharton, b. 1862. Wouldn’t it be exciting to meet famous and not-so-famous thinkers and writers? Wouldn’t you love to discuss writing and books with Madeleine L’Engle or Marilynne Robinson or or Leif Enger or Bret Lott, to name a few living authors that I admire and enjoy? (Tomorrow is the day I’m planning to go to Houston Baptist University to hear Ms. Robinson speak. I’m excited.) I’ve always thought the French idea of a “salon” where people meet in the evening or afternoon to discuss and experience art and literature was a delightful picture. The internet and the interaction between bloggers is as close as I’ve come to a literary salon. Edith Wharton lived amost of her adult life in France, and “she held salon where the gifted intellectuals of her time gathered to discuss and share ideas. Teddy Roosevelt, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Ernest Hemingway were all guests of hers at one time or another.” How exciting!

If you haven’t read Age of Innocence and House of Mirth, run out and get you a copy now. These are seriously good stories in the Jane Austen/Emily Bronte/George Eliot tradition of gifted women authors. Age of Innocence is a melancholy book with a melancholy ending, and House of Mirth is seriously sad. I wanted to slap Lily Bart up the side of the head because she made such appallingly stupid decisions. Yet I could see why she made those decisions. Anyway, read Edith Wharton’s books. She’s a great writer.