Really, this book should not have been about Lily Bart. Intriguing, misunderstood, sensitive to the higher planes of thought- maybe. But it's obvious she's the protagonist because she's flawlessly beautiful. Lily's beauty is her defining quality, her currency in the economy of society, the reason her mother loved her, and, as Wharton would have it, justification for her self-destructive tendencies. Lily's friend "poor" Gerty Farish is not so endowed. Forced to fend for herself because she lacks not just money but also that intangibly valuable resource, a pretty face, Gerty nevertheless supports herself, establishes myriad charities, and maintains a joyful, selfless mien throughout the novel. The passages that feature her perspective are welcome respites from the self-centered jeremiads of Lily.
But of course dowdy Gerty appears merely as a contrast to the unparalleled Lily, who is just as financially destitute. Rather than commit herself to the concerns of others, Lily is determined to rise to the forefront of New York's upper class. She fails miserably, but it is a long, slow fall from the pinnacle of society to a dingy room in a boardinghouse. Lily remains adamantly convinced that she can never be happy if she is not ever wallowing in luxury, and this conviction sustains the suspense of her desperate pursuit: it is only because the end is so final that her restoration into the good graces of the upper crust becomes painfully impossible.
Wharton insists that Lily is a product of her environment- that her mercenary matrimonial aims are seen as virtuous by society, that since she was born into comfort and raised in luxury it is only natural she should strive to maintain such. But Wharton would have Lily attuned at the same time to the "republic of the spirit." During a coquettish conversation with Laurence Selden, an aloofly intellectual lawyer, Lily suddenly finds herself face to face with the vapid, meaningless nature of her percuniary pursuit. Selden offhandedly relates his ideal of success- to live unrestrainedly, free from material concerns. Lily is simultaneously enthralled and despondent. "Why do you make the things I have chosen seem hateful to me if you have nothing to give me instead?" she cries. Lily is convinced that she can never be mindless of money if she does not possess a surfeit of it.
And truly, she never can. For, "what she craved and really felt herself entitled to was a situation in which the noblest attitude should also be the easiest," revealing her utter lack of integrity. Lily's love of luxury and her willingness to go to great lengths to secure it show only the shallowness of her character; her inability to forsake the futile chase and take a more meaningful tack, her selfishness. A lovely profile, smooth skin, and a taste for silken sheets do not "entitle" one to material wealth.
Gerty Farish, however, remains steadfast in her universal goodwill and her devotion to her friend, mastering even her unrequited affinity for Laurence Selden in doing all she can for Lily. Gerty is the first one on the scene when Lily is inevitably found dead of a sedative overdose. Compassionate, selfless, determined to do what she could with her lot in life, Gerty was the true heroine. Lily was just another pretty face.
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