I cobbled together the graphics for this from a few different sources – primarily Titanic, but also a few different Hugh Dancy movies and some random caps from other period films. I know timeline-wise, Titanic is a little ahead of The House of Mirth but who makes a more flawless Lily Bart than 1997 Kate Winslet? I'm mostly pleased with how the graphics match up with my ~vision of the novel. (I tried watching the 2000 film version, but ended up shutting it off twenty minutes in in a total rage.)
Lawrence Selden is my type of character. He's dry, witty, clever; he's a pragmatist; he's proud. He is the wry observer of the world of the novel, standing just slightly apart from all the other glamorous characters. He's an outsider, a middle-class lawyer moving amongst the idle, rich elite.
One of the things I like best about Wharton as a writer is how good she is at making people the authors of their own misfortune. She draws very skillfully on their stated characteristics and behaviors to create internally-motivated dilemmas. In nearly every case they're ultimately responsible for their own undoing, even if there had been no way for them to realize the far-reaching effects of their decisions. And I don't mean this in a hyper-depressing, fated-to-fail kind of way; it just seems very real and very human to me. It's difficult for people to get out of their own way a lot of the time.
So Wharton is very good at extrapolating on the negative flipsides of people's personalities. Selden is wonderful in a lot of ways, but he's also kind of a dick sometimes. He happily takes on the role of spectator but this also makes it very hard for him to get involved when it's necessary for him to do so. His practicality makes him suppress his more idealistic and romantic side – or on some occasions just flat-out run from it. He is cowardly and critical, judgmental of Lily even despite his enduring love for her. He looks down on the very people he socializes with, at least in part out of resentment.
We meet Selden first in the novel, before we even meet our protagonist, Lily. It makes sense that we first see Lily Bart through someone else's eyes and not her own, as so much of her persona requires being seen, being a decoration, an object. She's always so busy trying to make herself be seen that to know her, we must view her from an outsider perspective first. And it also makes sense for that outside perspective to be Selden's – he is the most objective thanks to his matter-of-fact personality, but he also knows the real Lily better than anyone and is quick to believe the best in her.
That takes time, though. At first, Lily is merely an exciting diversion to him ("as a spectator, he had always enjoyed Lily Bart"). He marvels at her intense beauty, which sets her apart from other women in his eyes (interestingly, he called her "specialized," which is the same word she uses to describe him). He's pretty stupid about the fact that he's in love with her, but I think a lot of that is due to his sensible nature – a man like him would never end up with a woman like Lily Bart, so why dream?
The language of their first on-page interaction really reveals the course their relationship will take. She makes an offhand comment about how he "came to her rescue," but again and again over the course of the novel, she will go to him when she truly does need rescuing of a sort, or he will express a (kind of annoying, tbh) desire to rescue her from her life. But again and again he will be trapped by his role as spectator and unable to overcome it to take action until it is too late. At one point, the narration points out that Selden is as much "the victim of his environment" as Lily is; though he appears to have more freedom than she does, he's also confined, albeit in different ways.
I think Selden exists not only as a love interest, but as a mirror and foil of Lily's, and nearly all of their most key scenes take place together. In the first chapter, after they meet at the train station, they return to Selden's apartment for tea, to waste time until Lily's train arrives. It's impulsive on her part, and risky, because she's an unmarried woman going up to a man's apartment in the middle of the day. If someone she knew saw her (spoiler alert: they do), it would create rumors and gossip. But she does go up, because she wants to – that simple. It charms Selden because so much of Lily is planned to the last detail, so much of Lily is utterly fake. But here she is throwing caution to the wind, for him, and Selden takes a lot of pleasure in that.
There's the sense that she does some empty protesting over it to conceal the fact that it's what she wants – and it's something Selden is both completely aware of and charmed by. Lily is so blatantly full of shit all of the time, she's pure artifice, and Selden is just kind of amused by it, because he sees through it totally. In that way, they remind me a lot of Dan and Blair (lol).
And that is the great thing about their relationship! In private, they are able to be honest with each other in a way they can't be with anyone else. Their conversations throughout the novel are incredible, particularly in the opening scene in Selden's apartment and the scene I'll discuss later at a friend's country house. They have such frank, open discussions with such sharp dialogue that their chemistry jumps right off the page.
They are both really dumb about their love. There are hints enough to show it's obvious to basically all the other characters, though no one openly discusses it. Lily and Selden, for their part, seem to embrace it and dismiss it by turns. They know they love each other but neither of them has any hope or expectation that they will ever be together, so it becomes a sort of background, flirtatious undercurrent in their every scene together. But they never seem to know where they stand with the other, also, constantly searching for signs of affection that are never clear. It's brought up a few times that Lily believes Selden dislikes her, but from his side it's obvious that he only keeps his distance because he's afraid of the feelings he knows he could have for her. DUMB KIDS.
I also love the veiled sexuality of Wharton – in The Age of Innocence, there's this really great scene of Ellen wearing fur by the fireplace and Newland being overwhelmed by the sensuality of it – and it's especially clear here. Lily and Selden only kiss once, briefly, but there are a few scenes of odd intimacy, particularly when she'll light her cigarette by leaning in to press the tip to his. And so many beautiful lines, like: "they both laughed for pure pleasure in their sudden intimacy." They make each other happy, pretty simply, but happiness is not a real consideration in the world they inhabit.
As much as he's amused by Lily's artifice, he's also deeply touched by the qualities in her that undermine it. Her poignant sadness, her strangled freedom; let's fangirl Wharton's writing some more, hm? It's not like there aren't already a bajillion quotes here: "…as though she were a captured dryad subdued to the conventions of the drawing-room; and Selden reflected that it was the same streak of sylvan freedom in her nature that lent such savor to her artificiality." I MEAN. WHAT ARE WORDS.
For all that Selden pretends not to, though, he does get involved, just not when it counts. Before the novel begins, he has an affair with one of Lily's married friends, something that ends up creating more trouble for Lily than anyone else, even though she had nothing to do with it. Selden remains unscathed by this affair, though just the insinuation of an (absolutely false) affair destroys Lily's social standing. Wharton does this a lot too: show that behavior acceptable in men is considered criminal of women. But so we see: Selden is the sort of man who has an affair with a married woman, and the reasons for it are never really clear. He's already over it when we meet him, and spares pretty much no thought to it again. He doesn't even seem to care about the woman, Bertha, all that much; if anything he's faintly annoyed by her. We learn that he is a careful, private man: he burns or rips up any personal papers – in fact, it is the re-pieced-together love letters from Lily's married friend that end up coming back to haunt him, even though he is NEVER AWARE OF THAT, and Lily protects him by keeping the whole thing quiet, which he never knows.
I HAVE TRIED TO REMAIN AMPHIBIOUS!!!!
The other major scene for them is at a weekend in the country, where he comes to see Lily despite the fact that his married ex-lover will be there and that Lily was only going so she could try and snag a rich man. They play silly games to pretend they don't want to spend time together and she royally screws herself on the marriage-to-a-rich-guy front, but they spend an afternoon together. It's my favorite part of the novel, and a turning point for them both. But, like real people, it doesn't drastically change anything for them; their worlds continue on just as they were, with both of their eyes a little wider. If anything, their foray into this brief freedom is punished. They affect each other deeply, without either realizing the extent of it. They challenge each other and question each other and hold each other accountable. He makes her more conscious of the ridiculousness of her friends and life, and she calls him out on his hypocrisy.
After this, however, they end up farther apart rather then closer, because of Lily's fuck-up and, presumably, Selden's embarrassment at his openness. The narrative doesn't flatly state that, but it's my interpretation. He's always clearly uncomfortable revealing his emotions and pulls back as soon as he does so, every damn time.
They are both annoyed when they can't see visible signs of longing in the other, yet they both are also putting up protective fronts so they don't seem hurt. It's very human, and draws on who they are as people – the very things that pull them together push them apart, and it is nearly all internally-motivated. Several times Wharton says the situation could only be solved by an "overwhelming show of emotion," something neither Selden nor Lily is capable of, purely due to who they are. Selden is too caught up in being "a detached observer of the scene" to let Lily know that he wants her and misses her; Lily is too caught up playing the part of la jeune fille à marier to devote time to a man who would cost her the very things she was taught to value most. Lily fears his judgment – because she is "bad," because she does want admiration and money. He tries to "resist" judging her, but he can't.
There's a really cool scene in the novel where all the society women create little tableaux of living art. Lily generates quite a buzz with hers, and it's a real triumph for her. In it, she wears a simple, vaguely scandalous dress that sort of allows her beauty to speak for itself. Selden is greatly moved by it, because there is the sense that somehow she has revealed the real Lily, thanks to the simplicity of her setting. So even though they had been awkward with each other prior to that, they fall naturally back into each other's company. They go into the garden together silently, caught up in this dreamy state (there's this lovely line when Selden looks at her and Lily thinks, "for the moment it seemed to her that it was for him only she cared to be beautiful," which just, ugh, my heart). Lily accuses him of judging her, wonders why they cannot just be friends like they were, and Selden essentially confesses his love: "The only way I can help you is by loving you." They kiss, but Lily freaks out and leaves.
All is not lost at this moment. Selden asks to call on her the next day, and Lily accepts; they are both on the same page at this moment, in that they both know Selden is going to propose and it seems obvious that Lily will consent. Selden's dream-state persists. He happily gives in to his romantic side, and especially to his fantasies of "rescuing" Lily – and then he sees her in a compromising situation with a male, married friend. Now. The married guy was trying to blackmail Lily into an affair because he'd been lending her money; Lily had no idea he was giving her money, she thought it was a return on an investment he made for her. But Selden doesn't wait to find out the truth, instead skipping town and standing Lily up. That's where the real break in their relationship occurs, and it is never really able to recover, despite the love they both still feel.
The sense of personal detachment he feels towards everyone (and especially towards Lily, after the aborted proposal) is what he believes allows him to see clearly, but it also paralyzes him. He literally tries to physically flee his emotions more than once. For all that he tries to be realistic, when Selden gives in to the dream, he gives in hard. His romanticism is intense but easily punctured, and the disillusionment that follows is intense too. One minute he's full of excitement over his desire to save Lily, this fairytale idea of lifting her out of a life he views as petty, but it doesn't take a lot to frighten him into abandoning her. It's tied in to his hypocrisy too. That life he thinks is so empty is something he is both drawn to and repulsed by: he spends a lot of time around those rich people even as he derides them. While he was once so charmed by watching Lily play the role she must play, he later claims that's the very thing that allows him to detach from her (spoiler alert: he detaches from nothing). Once he learns the heart beneath her vapid socialite mask, he can't stomach the mask anymore. Which is nice for him – Lily doesn't have the freedom to run away that he does.
I'm picking on Selden a little bit, but I really do adore him, faults and all. At the end of the day, he is there for Lily, even if his timing sucks. He does truly love her; he represents safety for her, in many ways. He is one of the few people in the world she knows without fail that she can turn to in her desperate moments; she knows that she can always count on Selden to have her back. He can help her, if only by loving her. He may not be able to take action when he ought to, but his faith in her is a source of comfort and strength in the depths of her later despair. Even though he claims to disengage from her, he still tries to support her as much as he can.
Selden does finally escape his own self-generated drama, not that it does much good. When he finally, finally, finally gets himself together enough to go to Lily to propose (presumably), after she has completely fallen from society, it's to find that she overdosed on sleeping medication and died – though he'd seen her only a few hours earlier, when they shared yet another intimate scene in his apartment, more heartbreaking than the first. With her death, he is finally forced to face his own cowardice and critical nature.
The scene where he learns of her death is a typical Wharton punch of delivering a character's most heart-ripping moment directly on the heels of their greatest happiness. Selden is overjoyed on his way to propose to Lily at last, chiding himself for his stupidity but ready to start fresh, truly optimistic for maybe the first time. And right when he finally has her, he's lost her. Right at that exact moment he gains and loses everything. It's in that moment, after her death, that he is finally able to be close to her. It's really beautiful and intimate and horrible; he goes through her little room in the boarding house she'd ended up at, touching her things, noticing the bits of her scattered throughout this sad little room. He finds a note he'd sent her that she'd saved. He kneels by her bed, bends his face over her body. He has her, and he has nothing.
Next:Lestat and Louis, of the Vampire Chronicles