79 pages • 2 hours read
Edith WhartonA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more. For select classroom titles, we also provide Teaching Guides with discussion and quiz questions to prompt student engagement.
Nature—especially the harsh Massachusetts winter—is among Ethan Frome’s most prominent motifs. The novel takes place entirely in winter, and the prolonged cold and snow are closely tied to death, as the narrator notes: “[W]hen winter shut down on Starkfield and the village lay under a sheet of snow perpetually renewed from the pale skies, I began to see what life there—or rather its negation—must have been in Ethan Frome’s young manhood” (10). The winter weather kills plants and wildlife, while also placing the town in a state of suspended animation, and, over time, chipping away at residents’ psyches. This is what Harmon means when he says that Ethan has “been in Starkfield too many winters” (9).
The association between winter and death also works in the opposite direction. In this sense, the cold is simply the outward manifestation of Ethan’s lifeless marriage, farm, and dreams. Mattie, who briefly revives Ethan’s hope of a better life, is tellingly associated with warmer weather—when Ethan reveals that he was watching Mattie at the dance, “[h]er wonder and his laughter r[u]n together like spring rills in a thaw” (29)—until the couple’s attempted suicide kills this dream, too.
It would be a mistake to view Ethan Frome’s depiction of nature as wholly negative, however. The beauty of the winter landscape impresses Ethan, who finds it not only aesthetically appealing, but also philosophically profound:
The night was perfectly still, and the air so dry and pure that it gave little sensation of cold. The effect produced on Frome was rather of a complete absence of atmosphere, as though nothing less tenuous than ether intervened between the white earth under his feet and the metallic dome overhead […] [T]hough [his studies] had not gone far enough to be of much practical use they had fed his fancy and made him aware of huge cloudy meanings behind the daily face of things (19-20).
Nature here appears not so much cruel as impersonal; “huge cloudy meanings” underpin the natural world’s “daily face,” but these meanings are largely beyond humanity’s power to comprehend (and certainly to influence). The nature motif therefore reflects the novel’s debt to naturalism, the idea that vast and indifferent scientific and social forces determine the course of an individual person’s life.
In Western culture especially, red’s visual intensity and its association with blood have made it the color of love and lust. As the object of Ethan’s desire, Mattie is linked to the color; she wears a red scarf and later a red ribbon, and Wharton often describes her as flushed or blushing. The significance of this symbol is especially evident given the novel’s otherwise bleak color scheme; these flashes of red are virtually all that interrupt the whites, grays, and blacks of the New England winter. Figuratively, the color therefore represents not only Ethan’s feelings for Mattie, but also his related sense that she’s the only “bit of hopeful young life” in an otherwise grim and death-like existence (22).
However, the same associations that link red to desire also tie it to sin, guilt, anger, violence, and danger. Guilt and desire are in fact inseparable for Ethan, since acting on his feelings for Mattie would mean breaking his marriage vows and (if the two ran away together) abandoning his duties to his wife. This is why the pickle dish that Mattie inadvertently breaks is red; the dish was a wedding present for Zeena and Ethan, and by setting it out to “make the supper-table pretty” (71)—and her dinner with Ethan special—Mattie “breaks” Ethan and Zeena’s marriage. Similarly, Ethan and Mattie’s attempted suicide leaves the former with a “red gash” on his forehead, permanently symbolizing his shame as well as the illicit relationship’s violent end.
Sickness and injury are pervasive in Ethan Frome. Although Zeena’s problems may be partly psychosomatic, the physical effects are real; although only 35, she looks like “an old woman,” with lined, “sallow” skin and false teeth. Ethan’s parents also suffered from health problems, as Harmon explains: “Fust his father got a kick, out haying, and went soft in the brain […] Then his mother got queer and dragged along for years as weak as a baby” (13). Nor are these problems unique to the Fromes: “Almost everybody in the neighbourhood had ‘troubles’” (61). Ethan and Mattie are initially the exceptions, but they, too, end up disabled after the sled crash.
It is telling that so many of these ailments are psychological or neurological—that is, that they primarily impact the person’s thoughts, feelings, or sensations. Images of death are common in Ethan Frome; one notable example is the cucumber vine that “dangle[s] from the porch [of Ethan’s house] like the crape streamer tied to the door for a death” (32). However, the novel is relatively uninterested in physical death, instead framing its characters’ existence—their poverty, isolation, and despair—as a form of emotional and spiritual death far worse than the real thing; it’s the fact that Ethan will “likely touch a hundred” that the narrator finds so horrifying because “[h]e looks as if he was dead and in hell now” (9). Likewise, the prevalence of illness and injury in Starkfield is inseparable from the town’s decline. The dilapidated buildings—especially Ethan’s “diminished” and gutted farmhouse—reflect not only economic distress, but also the spiritual malaise of the town’s residents.
Sledding is a concern in the novel well before Mattie and Ethan’s suicide attempt; the pair repeatedly fantasize about going “coasting” and also discuss Ned and Ruth’s near crash. Besides foreshadowing Mattie and Ethan’s fate, these references to sledding develop themes of gender and agency. For Ethan, who feels emasculated by both his wife and his financial circumstances, steering a sled represents power and control. More specifically, it evokes the protective, paternalistic responsibility Mattie inspires in him, which is why he repeatedly asks whether she trusts him to guide the sled safely and why her responses flatter him: “‘That’s an ugly corner down by the big elm. If a fellow didn’t keep his eyes open he’d go plumb into it.’ He luxuriated in the sense of protection and authority which his words conveyed” (52).
Mattie’s eventual request that Ethan drive them into the elm simply retools this “protection and authority” for the purposes of suicide. By this point, however, it’s becoming clear that sledding isn’t the exercise in masculine purpose and agency it might seem. The description of Ethan and Mattie’s first run frames the couple more as passengers than participants; it’s not Ethan but “the sled [that] start[s] with a bound” (89), and they “[spin] safely past [the elm]” without any mention of Ethan actually steering (89). What’s more, Ethan largely relinquishes the ability to steer on their second run, trusting that they can simply “follow the track” (92). Sledding therefore comes to represent Ethan’s powerlessness, both real and self-imposed.
By Edith Wharton