My Page Turners book club just happened to select a classic for its December meeting. Ethan Frome, Edith Wharton’s 1911 novel was chosen. Instead of drawing a title from a jar, I decided to read Ethan Frome for both purposes, killing the proverbial two birds with one stone. I was told it was selected because it was a “good winter read,” but didn’t expect the plot to be as grim as the Massachusetts weather.

The novel is set in Starkfield, Massachusetts, a town as stark as its name. It opens in a stark and bleak winter landscape where the narrator, Harmon Gow, a retired stagecoach driver, first catches sight of Ethan Frome. At the opening, Frome is 52 years old, but looks much older thanks to a sledding accident 24 years ago when Ethan was 28, in his prime. Frome lives in a world of isolation and silence, two major themes of the novel.

Ethan’s life with his crochety wife and her cousin is revealed as his story unfolds. At the time of the accident, Ethan reaches out to make a final grab at happiness, but the tragedy which strikes prevents any hope of that.

The surprise ending is indeed a surprise and is withheld until the few final lines. I suppose the ending is inevitable, but certainly not predictable. I listened to this on an audiobook, and the voice of the reader was almost a monotone, much like the skyline/horizon of Starkfield.