Newland is one of those self-professed "sensitive young men" (self-centered angsty adult) who is so boring he has no right to be the main character. Trying to understand why it somehow works within the novel to see everything from his POV.
He has such a white-knight complex about rescuing Ellen the sad social outsider, and SAYS he wants to understand her, but then he second-guesses everything she does/says and every clue he’s given about what is going on with her.
He goes on internal monologues making up what he thinks her problem is, instead of simply talking to her/asking her:
-Decides she was cheating with her husband’s secretary (effectively siding with evil husband) because why else could she possibly want a divorce than to marry this supposed lover. Shuts down her begging for a divorce and pats himself on the back about what a good lawyering job he’s done
-Reads May’s request to keep an eye on Ellen because she’s lonely. Concludes May is obviously exaggerating and being histrionic
-Gets Ellen’s note about “running away” from New York; reaches same conclusion. “Women always exaggerated,” oh my god
-Has a fleeing thought that Ellen might genuinely be lonely and unhappy, but somehow allows himself to be sidetracked from this issue by the arrival of annoying rich guy Beaufort. Ellen is clearly dismayed to run into Beaufort, who has just FOLLOWED HER to her friends’ house with a stupid excuse about doing her house-hunting. Instead of being creeped out and concerned, Newland gets so busy hating Beaufort that he:
- gets distracted from talking to Ellen about what is disturbing her;
- decides she ran from Beaufort because she’s attracted to him — because females amirite
- then develops an inferiority complex and cries about not being as worldly and able to “speak Ellen’s language” as Beaufort.
Hey numbskull. Maybe JUST MAYBE your friend wants to be talked to like a human being????
I get that Newland’s communication is crippled by this shallow society of mind games and double meanings. (He even points out to himself that no one in his social circle ever seems to say exactly what they mean.) I’m still flabbergasted that he’s like this.
Newland’s every spark of insight and empathy is promptly snuffed by what can be summed up as his self-absorption and arrogance.
Also I am in fact enjoying this book for what it is, as a portrait of Gilded Age wealthy society.
by nosleepforthedreamer