Los niños

by Edith Wharton, Catalina Martínez Muñoz (Translator)

Martin Boyne, «un individuo crítico y cauto de cuarenta y seis años a quien difícilmente alguien asociaba con sucesos románticos e inesperados», ha decidido poner fin a su vida nómada de ingeniero y compartir la madurez al lado de Rose Sellars, la mujer de la que se enamoró en su juventud y que ahora es una respetable viuda instalada en Europa. En el barco que debe conducirlo a ella, Boyne se encuentra con los hijos de unos viejos amigos, los Wheater: una animada prole de siete niños, desde un recién nacido a una muchacha de casi dieciséis años de edad, producto de distintos matrimonios... y distintos divorcios. De crucero en crucero, de Hotel Palace en Hotel Palace, de Argel a Venecia y de allí a Cortina, esta tropa ha jurado, bajo el liderazgo de Judith, la hija mayor, encontrar «un hogar cálido y estable» y permanecer unida pese a los ocasionales caprichos de sus distintos padres (dos ociosos millonarios, un príncipe italiano, una estrella de cine) de separarlos. Boyne cae subyugado por el ímpetu de Judith y casi sin querer se encuentra tutelando sus tremendos planes; de pronto la madurez se le aparece como «la escalofriante mediocridad de la vejez» y la mujer con la que esperaba casarse, una ominosa figura que no encaja en este inopinado idilio.

Los niños pertenece al ciclo final de las novelas de Edith Wharton: tenía casi setenta años cuando la publicó en 1928. Fue uno de sus mayores best sellers y una de sus obras maestras.

Genres: Classics, Fiction, American, Novels, The United States Of America, Literary Fiction, Literature

416 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1928

About the author

Edith Wharton emerged as one of America’s most insightful novelists, deftly exposing the tensions between societal expectation and personal desire through her vivid portrayals of upper-class life. Drawing from her deep familiarity with New York’s privileged “aristocracy,” she offered readers a keenly observed and piercingly honest vision of Gilded Age society.

Her work reached a milestone when she became the first woman to receive the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, awarded for The Age of Innocence. This novel highlights the constraining rituals of 1870s New York society and remains a defining portrait of elegance laced with regret.

Wharton’s literary achievements span a wide canvas. The House of Mirth presents a tragic, vividly drawn character study of Lily Bart, navigating social expectations and the perils of genteel poverty in 1890s New York. In Ethan Frome, she explores rural hardship and emotional repression, contrasting sharply with her urban social dramas.

Her novella collection Old New York revisits the moral terrain of upper-class society, spanning decades and combining character studies with social commentary. Through these stories, she inevitably points back to themes and settings familiar from The Age of Innocence. Continuing her exploration of class and desire, The Glimpses of the Moon addresses marriage and social mobility in early 20th-century America. And in Summer, Wharton challenges societal norms with its rural setting and themes of sexual awakening and social inequality.

Beyond fiction, Wharton contributed compelling nonfiction and travel writing. The Decoration of Houses reflects her eye for design and architecture; Fighting France: From Dunkerque to Belfort presents a compelling account of her wartime observations. As editor of The Book of the Homeless, she curated a moving, international collaboration in support of war refugees.

Wharton’s influence extended beyond writing. She designed her own country estate, The Mount, a testament to her architectural sensibility and aesthetic vision. The Mount now stands as an educational museum celebrating her legacy.

Throughout her career, Wharton maintained friendships and artistic exchanges with luminaries such as Henry James, Sinclair Lewis, Jean Cocteau, André Gide, and Theodore Roosevelt—reflecting her status as a respected and connected cultural figure.
Her literary legacy also includes multiple Nobel Prize nominations, underscoring her international recognition. She was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature more than once.

In sum, Edith Wharton remains celebrated for her unflinching, elegant prose, her psychological acuity, and her capacity to illuminate the unspoken constraints of society—from the glittering ballrooms of New York to quieter, more remote settings. Her wide-ranging work—novels, novellas, short stories, poetry, travel writing, essays—offers cultural insight, enduring emotional depth, and a piercing critique of the customs she both inhabited and dissected.

Reviews

[Olive Fellows (abookolive) · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Children is a different kind of novel for Edith Wharton, but then again, it's the quintessential Wharton novel. The main character is Martin Boyne, a bachelor who's on his way to see the woman he's been in love with from afar for many years, Rose. She was in an unhappy marriage, which kept them apart, but her husband has fairly recently died, and Martin is thrilled to finally be able to be with her.

That is until he meets a group of unparented children aboard the boat he's traveling on. Most are blood related, a couple are not. They range in age from a toddler to a fifteen-year-old, Judith, who acts as a mother to the whole group. Since they don't all belong to one set of parents, they're at risk of being separated at any moment, something they dread. And so Martin allows himself to get dragged into their dilemma and uses their dramas to distract himself from figuring out what he truly wants for his life.

As Wharton normally does, she creates characters who are, all at once, their own people and representations of ideas or ways of life. Martin must choose between Rose, the personification of Old New York, and Judith, the child of the nouveaux riche. Judith is a teenager, which makes it uncomfortable reading for the modern eye, but once you see how deeply confused Martin is and what Wharton is actually trying to communicate, it's easier to understand why she made such a choice.

I was frustrated at the characters through most of this book and even though it's definitely a more approachable read writing-wise and revolves around a troop of funny, generally sweet kids, Wharton sill manages to make things tragic and hopeless. As I said, this one is both unlike and precisely like all the other Wharton novels I've read. She makes you love to hate her characters and encircles you with breathtaking prose while she does so. She was a master at her craft.

If you want to read the full book with all my comments (aka my raging at how blind Martin was to reality), we read this in my circle on the (completely free of charge) Threadable app. Feel free to pop over there to read the book and chime in: https://threadablenative.page.link/ZY...


You can also click here to hear more of my thoughts on this book over on my Booktube channel, abookolive!

[El · Rating 4 out of 5]

Edith Wharton wrote about things like telegrams, ball gowns, steamer ships. She wrote about money, and fancy dinner with china and crystal, and jewelry and fashion.

I know nothing about these things. And I don't particularly care about them either, not on a day-to-day basis. (Though receiving a telegram might be highly romantic and sort of fun.) But Wharton was able to make her readers care about those things; so much so that readers (no matter what their past or present holds, no matter who they are or who their daddy is) can actually relate to her characters. That's the power of literature, if said power is wielded by the right person.

The Children is about all the abovementioned things, just like
The Age of Innocence or The House of Mirth also focus heavily on high society and the relationships between the members. Unlike those other, more familiar Wharton texts, The Children involves... well... children. I can't think of another Wharton book or story that has children characters worth mentioning, so this story of societal matters is already different from the word Go.

There are seven children in the Wheater family, but they're actually a happy bunch of stepbrothers and sisters hoping that their parents will reconcile and they can all live together happily ever after. The glue holding them all together is Judith, a 15-year-old who has been forced by circumstances to be older than her stated years by acting as a surrogate mother for her younger steps. Martin Boyne, an older gentleman, meets them for the first time on a ship and becomes so involved in the family dynamic that he actually falls a little in love with Judith. Um, dirty old man!

I seem to be reading books about older men and their lust for little girls lately. Even more disturbing is the fact that these have been good books. Wharton includes all the feelings of confusion, all the awkwardness, all the questionable motives, and in the end one walks away feeling like they need a shower, but holy crap was that a delicious story, beginning to end, holy crap, holy crap.

Despite my high praise of this book I can't even say it's Wharton's best. Which just goes to show you how highly I think of other things she wrote. Additionally I should add that I finished this on my lunch break, despite the fact that I didn't have time to grab a back-up book when I left the house this morning. I never do that because I read on my commute (lest I have to actually listen to my neighbors)... and now I'm screwed.

Thank you, Edith Wharton. Thank you.

[Ali · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Children is the fourth Edith Wharton novel I have read this year. I have been reflecting on how glad I am that I have come to her fairly late. I first read The House of Mirth many, many years ago, when, I think, I was too young to appreciate her. I then re-read it in January and it remains one of my favourite reads of 2012.
The Children I think is probably a novel that is less well known than some and according to the introduction to my edition by Marilyn French – much less appreciated. Yet I have to say straight off that I loved it.
The subject is one that many people (especially at the time when it was written) may have found rather distasteful – the infatuation of a middle-aged man for a fifteen year old girl. Future readers however will be pleased to know that this story is not Lolita. Judith Wheater is a charmingly honest young girl by turn maternal and childlike whose preoccupations are totally innocent and familial.
“The young face mounting towards him continued to bend over the baby, the girl’s frail shoulders to droop increasingly under their burden, as the congestion ahead of her forced the young lady to maintain her slanting position halfway up the liner’s flank.”
Many Edith Wharton novels are known for their exploration of old New York society into which she was born and within which she lived for many years. This old New York society with its mores, manners and conventions is very much in the background of this novel. The setting is Europe, yet the characters are from the very sections of society that Edith Wharton is famed for writing about.
While travelling by cruise ship between Algiers and Venice Martin Boyne an unmarried engineer from New York – and very much part of that old New York Society, although a poor one - meets the children of the title. Seven children ranging in age from a toddler to a girl of fifteen, they are a group of full blood, half and step siblings who are travelling with their governess and nursery maids. Judith the eldest has taken on the role of surrogate mother to the younger children. The children’s parents a group of self-centred wealthy nouveau riche – who live mainly out of hotels, and think nothing of marrying, divorcing, re-marrying, and squabbling over their children - are the other section of society that Edith Wharton portrays brilliantly, with a satirical slant. Martin is due to meet up with the woman he has loved for many years, Rose Sellars a conventional member of New York society is newly widowed and now free to acknowledge her feelings for Martin which her marriage had not allowed her to do. Drawn into the lives of the Wheaters however, Martin decides to stay for a couple of days in Venice before going on to Switzerland, and here he involves himself further into the lives of the children and their parents.
“Lady Wrench had snatched up her daughter and stood, in an approved film attitude, pressing Zinnie’s damp cheek against her own, while the child’s orange-coloured curls mixed with the red gold of hers. “What’s that nasty beast been doing to momma’s darling?” she demanded, glaring over Zinnie’s head at Judith. “Whipping you for wanting to see your own mother, I suppose? You just tell momma what it was and she’ll…”
The children are determined to stay together, rather than be farmed back out to the various natural or stepparents who decide they want them at one time or another. Martin pledges to help, not admitting even to himself at first, his true infatuation to Judith. Martin does have very real affection for all the children, and does want to help them. However when the group follow him to Switzerland without their parent’s knowledge, Martin’s and Rose’s burgeoning engagement is affected. Martin is endlessly pulled between these two different worlds, the world of polite old New York that is represented by Rose Sellars and the less conventional world of the children.
The characters of the children are wonderful, they are funny and endearing, and the relationships between each of them and with Martin Boyne are poignant and deeply charming. Martin is a fool, but a sympathetic one nonetheless. Martin’s dilemmas and mistakes are age-old ones, the ending inevitable and beautifully poignant.

[Olivia · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Darling,” she said again; then, with a face in which the bridal light seemed already kindled, “Oh, Martin, do you really mean you’re going to adopt us all, and we’re all going to stay with you forever?”

THE WAY I SCREAMED

Edith is iconic for this. I thought I knew what she was going to do with this premise, going into it. I thought she was going to go the typical route in these types of books of trying to convince both herself and her reader that there is any scenario in which this type of age gap could be permissible in a romance, and I knew that she wouldn’t succeed, but I was curious as to how she’d try. But then! At the eleventh hour, she suddenly pulls a Cher Horowitz on me, reminding me that she is the queen of the unreliable narrator, and that she sees through her protagonists' sophistries even if they don’t themselves. The way that she leads Boyne’s unwittingly predatory hopes on, only to douse them with a bucket of ice water in chapter twenty-nine by making it absolutely, unequivocally impossible for him to deny any longer what he has himself (to his partial credit) been averring for the majority of the book – namely, that Judith is, at the end of the day, a literal child? ICONICCCC. Of course Judith has never thought about Boyne as a potential suitor; of course she laughs at the idea as a good joke; of course she does, because she. is. a. child, and she naturally responds to Boyne only as a kindly father figure, because that’s all he ever ought to be to her. Boyne’s affection for her and desire to help her and her siblings can be, and I think are, genuine and positive – but his attraction to her cannot be anything but sinister, no better than Dobree’s or Ormerod’s or any other plain old lecher’s. Wharton doesn’t let her MMCs get away with anything. Ugh. I love it.

In addition to that ~interesting~ subplot, The Children is several things: a kindly (if firm) look at middle-aged male loneliness; a quasi-horror story about the excessive parentification of a teenager; and a humorous, sometimes sweet, sometimes poignant look at the fallout of divorce and serial remarriage, from the lenses of the children those affect.

It was not that any of these parents really wanted their children. If they had, the break-up of Judith’s dream, though tragic, would have been too natural to struggle against. But it was simply that the poor little things had become a bone of contention, that the taking or keeping possession of them was a matter of pride or of expediency, like fighting for a goal in some exciting game, or clinging to all one’s points in an acrimoniously-disputed law-suit.

As the assistant to a domestic law attorney, I’ve seen firsthand how easily children can be turned into pawns by parents whose antipathy for each other has blinded them to the best interests of their sons and daughters, so that element of the story hits me where I live, as they say.

On a lighter note, Wharton’s characterization of the titular children is excellently drawn. They’re a hoot and a half, and I love or at least like them all. (Not fully satisfied with the dismissive attitude toward Blanca; could have used more depth there.) I love it when classic authors make me giggle.

Not sure whether this one will have a ton of re-read value, but I’ll probably keep it on my shelf for a while to find out.

(Also: JUSTICE FOR ROSE SELLARS! He doesn't deserve you, babe.)

[Xenja · Rating 4 out of 5]

Romanzo pubblicato nel 1928, The children, eppure estremamente attuale. Vi si narra di quella che oggi definiamo una famiglia allargata: i coniugi Wheater, una coppia di spensierati e capricciosi miliardari americani, sempre in viaggio tra le più belle località d’Europa, e i loro sette figli e figliastri, che li seguono malvolentieri da un grand hotel all’altro con bambinaie e governanti, tenuti a distanza perchè non intralcino l'intensa vita mondana e amorosa dei genitori, i quali continuano, futili e patetici, a divorziare e a risposarsi con altre persone perché, come afferma la figlia maggiore con sarcasmo, oggi i medici hanno trovato il modo di prolungare così tanto la giovinezza! I bambini sono cresciuti insieme benché di genitori diversi, e non riconoscono altra famiglia all’infuori di se stessi: perciò giurano solennemente di non separarsi mai. Ma avvocati e giudici metteranno loro, com’è ovvio, i bastoni fra le ruote. Il protagonista, un gentiluomo solitario e scapolo di mezz’età, si imbatte nei ragazzi per caso e imprevedibilmente scoprirà di avere un’anima tutt’altro che arida: si lascia commuovere, coinvolgere e travolgere contro ogni logica e buonsenso, proponendosi perfino come tutore provvisorio, ma è tutto inutile: finirà per mandare all’aria la propria serenità, e un'intravista felicità, per una causa persa fin dall’inizio.
Bellissimo e straziante: non sempre possiamo amare le persone che vorremmo amare.

[Sonia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Leer a Edith Wharton siempre es, al menos para mí, garantía de disfrutar de una buena novela.
Y así me ha pasado con "Los niños": con su prosa elegante, sutil y precisa la autora nos acerca de forma descarnada a la vida de Martin Boyne, un hombre solitario, paradigma de llevar mal la crisis de los 40, y que desarrolla de modo exponencial su complejo de Peter Pan al conocer en un crucero a la tropa de los niños Weather, con Judith, la hija mayor adolescente, como jefa del clan.
Creo que pocas veces he visto a Edith Wharton tan dura e inmisericorde como con este personaje, al que nos muestra en todo su patetismo, autoengaño e hipocresía, negándose lo que para el lector es evidente desde el principio.
Y si bien, por los códigos morales y de valores de la época no se le llega a presentar como un pederasta, es decir, como un criminal, sí que vemos que desde luego Wharton lo encuentra penoso y patético. Desde luego a un lector contemporáneo le parece perturbador y "creepy" que un bombre de 46 años se enamore de una cría de 15, pero siendo honestos ni el propio protagonista es consciente de ello.
La verdad es que he disfrutado muchísimo de esta novela, como no podía ser de otro modo, de sus pintorescos personajes y de lo bien trazados que están, aunque no he podido detestar más a Boyne.
Me ha gustado mucho, aunque desde luego no es una de mis novelas preferidas de la autora.

[Griselda · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you loved Noel Streatfeild's Ballet Shoes as a child, and went on to smile at the bitter-sweetness of I Capture the Castle and Cold Comfort Farm, read this next.

[Pauline · Rating 3 out of 5]

Il faut toujours se mettre dans un état d'esprit assez particulier quand on lit un livre écrit à une époque où il apparaît parfaitement normal pour tous qu'un homme de 45 ans puisse vouloir épouser une adolescente de 15 ans.

C'est particulièrement difficile avec ce livre-là, dans lequel le héros se répète constamment que la jeune Judith est une enfant, une petite fille, bien conscient de l'anormalité de cette possible relation.C'est encore accentué par la naïveté confondante de Judith, son absence d'éducation qui la rajeunit encore.

Le contrepoint, l'autre femme avec laquelle il hésite, est une adulte, intelligente, amie de longue date, avec qui il partage une entente intellectuelle et des valeurs. Et notre héros de détester devoir avoir des discussions avec elle, devoir prendre en compte ses désirs et sentiments, alors que tout est plus simple avec la très jeune fille qui lui voue une admiration sans faille...

Le groupe des enfants est perpétuellement désigné comme charmant et délicieux dans les yeux de Boyne. Mais ce qui nous est donné à voir d'eux c'est une bande de gamins dont personne ne s'occupe, laissé à eux-mêmes, et à qui on nie une éducation (sauf pour Terry, parce qu'il en désire une ardemment).

Les différents parents sont présentés comme incapables, égoïstes, indifférents au sort de leur progéniture, ne s'y intéressant que pour se venger de leur partenaire lors des séparations en cascade, entièrement préoccupés qu'ils sont par leurs plaisirs.
Boyne apparaît dans un premier temps comme le sauveur de cette petite troupe face à ces parents indignes, celui qui est garant de l'unité de la tendre petite troupe. Mais il n'est pas plus capable de s'en occuper. Il aime juste être au coeur de la petite bande de "sauvages" .
Et dans le fond, il ne fait pas grand chose pour les protéger de la séparation. C'est toujours Judith qui prend les initiatives qui maintiennent ensemble le groupe.
La seule personne qui se soucie de l'éducation des enfants est une caricature grotesque tournée en ridicule. Il y a cette idée très forte dans le livre que les enfants ont seulement besoin d'être aimés et qu'ils vont grandir seuls tant qu'ils sont éloignés de la vie superficielle des palaces et des nouveaux riches pervertis.

Au final je ne sais pas vraiment ce que j'ai pensé de ce livre. J'ai toujours un peu de mal avec les livres qui tournent autour d'un personnage détestable et pour lequel je n'ai pas d'empathie, et les enfants m'ont souvent plus exaspérée qu'autre chose (il n'ont chacun qu'un unique trait de personnalité). Mais la plongée dans la psychée du personnage principal est brillante, et je l'ai dévoré. Malgré tous leurs points communs (les parallèles sont nombreux) je n'ai pas retrouvé ce qui m'avait tant plu dans L'âge de l'innocence.

[Troy Alexander · Rating 3 out of 5]

I want to read everything that Wharton wrote. The Children is one of her lesser-known works and while the writing is wonderful, the story is not as compelling as her other more famous novels. Still worth reading if you’re a fan.

[JacquiWine · Rating 4 out of 5]

First published in 1928, The Children is one of Edith Wharton’s later novels, published when the author was in her mid-sixties. Like much of Wharton’s fiction, it explores the moral complexities of socially unacceptable relationship – in this instance, one between a middle-aged man and a teenage girl. Wharton herself cited the novel as one of her favourites, as Marilyn French notes in her introduction to the Virago edition – my copy is a beautiful ‘green spine’ from the mid-1980s.

As the novel opens, Martin Boyne, an unmarried consultant engineer in his mid-forties, is travelling by ship from Algiers to Venice. From there, Martin will journey to Cortina in the Dolomites to join Rose Sellars, the recently widowed woman whom he hopes to marry, even though they haven’t seen one another for five years. The best-laid plans, however, rarely come to pass…

During the passage, Martin encounters fifteen-year-old Judith Wheater, the surrogate mother to her six siblings, three of whom are ‘steps’ or half-siblings. The children – who range in age from two or three to fifteen – are a lively, outspoken bunch, largely kept in line by the delightful Judith and her former governess, Miss Scope. Judith’s parents, Cliffe and Joyce Wheater, are living it up in Venice, caring little for the welfare of their children and assorted ‘steps’, preferring instead to give themselves over to the demands of the ongoing social whirl. Over the past two or three years, Judith has successfully protected the children from the fallout of various Wheater marriages, divorces, liaisons and remarriages, fighting hard to keep the brood together despite her parents’ whims and desires.

Martin is captivated by the children’s happiness and spontaneity, so much so that he agrees to remain in Venice for a few days to assist Judith in discussions with the Wheaters, whose latest attempt at remarriage is in danger of floundering. Judith is fearful that another rift between Cliffe and Joyce will result in children being split up – with the steps going back to their own equally self-absorbed parents, and the toddler, Chip, being separated from Judith and the twins, Terry and Blanca.

In particular, Martin is drawn to Judith with her blend of childlike innocence and impressive maturity. At fifteen, she is on the cusp of adulthood and everything that represents. All too soon, Martin’s feelings for Judith begin to tip over into a kind of infatuation – a fascination he finds hard to fully admit, even to himself.

To read the rest of my review, please visit:

https://jacquiwine.wordpress.com/2020...

[Lee Foust · Rating 5 out of 5]

The more I read Edith Wharton, the more impressed I am. perhaps because I didn't expect a whole lot from this--it's not a novel I'd heard of or seen cited as one of her best--I really enjoyed it. The cover blurb called it a comedy, which again lowered my expectations as I clearly prefer more serious material, or acidic satire, and expected this to more in the frivolous or for pure entertainment vein. However, it surprised me with its actually really interesting gender and character issues surrounding a protagonist (male), written in third person but always more or less from his perspective, who's simply not wholly aware of his own motivations or impulses regarding others, mainly women, and who pays the price by falling into solitude when his own conflicting desires and a series of random events conspire to thwart his romantic entanglements.

Since it was published in 1928, after Fitzgerald, Hemingway et al. had already effected the Modernist revolution in novel writing, shifting things to the first person subjective narrator, it's a bit late to have adopted the old 19th century convention of indirect discourse, yet it allows Wharton in this novel to skate around the protagonist's desires, always pretty unclear (or perhaps he's simply in denial) to himself, and the whole thing works as an engrossing character study, showing a truth about humankind that we don't often see so well represented in fiction, that most of the time we're really pretty much out of touch with our own feelings and desires and that our minds often refuse to admit what what they really want on other levels of consciousness, so caught up as we are in wanting to see ourselves in a certain light.

My only real complaint was in the very last line of the novel which, yes, a decent modernist would have cut as a wholly unnecessary summation of what the narrative had already shown--we didn't need to have it retold in an arch manner to get it. C'mon, Edith, trust your audience, give us a little credit for knowing how to read a tale.

Also, side note, Wharton, even better than Fitzgerald is, I think, America's most perspicacious novelist critic of the upper classes. The plight of the children of this novel's title, their semi-abandonment by the emotionally stunted and frivolous rich parents, is far more damning than anything in Gatsby. Wharton, being born into one of the USA's richest families, knew the wealthy far better than Fitzgerald ever did and never romanticizes them. Her novels so often present the rich as these spoiled and lost children incapable of even rudimentary human responsibility. It's good to read her; she knew a lot about these people that so many idolize I suppose out of a kind of obsequious envy.

[pilarentrelibros · Rating 4 out of 5]

Los niños de Edith Wharton es una novela tan elegante como incómoda. Martin Boyne, un hombre de mediana edad, conoce en una travesía por alta mar a un grupo de niños pertenecientes a una familia tan peculiar como excéntrica. El protagonista pronto se ve emocionalmente atrapado entre su amor idealizado por Rose —una figura de estabilidad y estancamiento— y la atracción inesperada que empieza a sentir por Judith, una joven de 17 años y la hermana mayor de este grupo de niños. Esta tensión moral y afectiva, lejos de ser romantizada, es tratada por Wharton con una mirada crítica y profunda.
Judith no es solo un objeto de deseo confuso, sino también una figura maternal para sus hermanos menores, todos ellos hijos de padres ausentes, narcisistas y negligentes. Los niños, criados en el caos de una familia bohemia irresponsable, representan una generación forzada a madurar demasiado pronto. La novela retrata con sutileza el abandono disfrazado de libertad, y cómo la infancia puede ser deformada por la falta de estructura y amor genuino.
Wharton disecciona con precisión las ilusiones del amor adulto, los mecanismos de autoengaño y la fragilidad de las estructuras familiares modernas. Lo que podría ser una historia sentimental, se convierte en una crítica a la moralidad complaciente de una clase social más preocupada por sus placeres que por el bienestar de sus propios hijos.
Los niños no es una lectura cómoda, pero sí necesaria. Invita a mirar de frente las contradicciones del afecto, la atracción y la responsabilidad.

[Terris · Rating 4 out of 5]

Oh my! What a story, of seven children of "mixed and matched" divorced parents, trying to stay together so that they may retain some sense of stability and security while their parents "flit" about Europe. Martin, an old friend of one of the sets of parents, becomes entangled with the whole affair after he becomes enamored of these adorable children. He tries to help keep them together, even becoming their temporary guardian. But all good things must come to an end, as the parents start to come around to claim their children.... What will happen? Will they be able to stay together? Will Martin still be a part of their lives?

Wharton is at her best in this one. I don't think I've read one where she has been so light and carefree (even funny in places!) in her writing. But don't forget -- she's still Edith Wharton, not Louisa May Alcott.... ;)
For me this one is very different from her others, and I am glad to have had it recommended to me. It's a good one!

[Dini · Rating 4 out of 5]

"He was caught body and soul--that was it; and real loving was not the delicate distraction, the food for dreams... it was this perpetual obsession, this clinging nearness, this breaking on the rack of every bone, and tearing apart of every fibre. And his apprenticeship to it was just beginning..."

The Children, one of Edith Wharton's lesser known works, turned out to be a bit different than I expected it to be. It was better. It is the story of a 46-year-old bachelor, Martin Boyne, who finds himself tangled in the business of the seven children of the Wheater family, stepbrothers and stepsisters trying to stay together in the middle of the storm of their parents' numerous divorces and remarriages. Enchanted by the raucously endearing children, Boyne becomes their confidante and guardian and strives to help their cause.

According to the book's back cover, Martin's heart was "captured" by the eldest Wheater, 15-year-old Judith, who is the mother hen of the pack. I first thought the feeling would be platonic, but even in the beginning of the book there were hints that it was not going to be the case. And indeed, Martin slowly finds himself in love with a girl 30 years his junior. I was ready to dislike the whole business, but surprisingly I couldn't. Just like in The Age of Innocence, Wharton makes the reader understand the feelings of a man who loves someone while knowing there is no way he could ever be with her. To complicate the matter, Martin has been attached to a woman for years; a woman who couldn't be with him because she was already married (this one reminds me of my first Wharton, the novella Souls Belated). She has just become a widow and is finally free to be together with Martin, but just at that time Martin begins to develop feelings for Judith that he himself was too afraid to admit.

The little Wheater children provides comic relief in the story but otherwise it is quite a sad novel. After finishing it I am once again in awe of Wharton's consummate skill in making the reader feel what the characters feel. It makes one wonder whether she herself has gone through the same heartbreaks, the same predicaments as her characters. I highly recommend this book for the heartfelt drama and beautiful prose. Thank you Ayu for lending it to me!

[LJ · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is... an odd one. It's the fourth Wharton book I have read, or attempted anyway, and dear God definitely the last I shall ever pick up. Since Wharton is such an apparently beloved author, I feel a little out of my depth in criticising her work but what can you do, when each novel of hers I have read has felt a little like torture?

The Children didn't grab me, but it was easier to read than the last Wharton I tried (The Age Of Innocence) and eventually I found myself kind of entrenched in it, in that way when people describe watching a car crash and being unable to look away, similar to how I read The House Of Mirth, except without the slightest emotional investment. I wanted to know where this bizarre and disturbing and irritating story was going, without enjoying the process of getting there, but it doesn't even have its own Wikipedia page. I'd say perhaps it has become obscure due to its dubious content, but the copy I'm reading is clearly a modern edition. And then just a glance at its goodreads page shows people adore it and no one is finding it... well, you know, incredibly paedophiley.

It's written in Wharton's usual smug, satirical style, where you hate everyone you meet and don't understand why you have to read any of this. As usual it is about how awful American high society is, but at complete opposites to The House Of Mirth - in which a whiff of scandal destroys lives, whereas in The Children the fact that no one cares about scandals is what destroys lives, and at odds with The Age Of Innocence which is about how the old ways of society are killing the new generation, whereas here the news ways of society are the evil and the old ways wistfully missed. I get it okay, you hate everyone and everyone sucks. Thanks for writing another miserable book about another male hero who is constrained by society, also a monster and crushes women under his boots. I don't even know if I'm meant to like Wharton's characters or not, but I sure as hell don't.

It's just impossible to get inside the story. Wharton constantly tells instead of shows. Not to say that she skimps on description, but I never for a second feel like I'm looking at a room full of people, but instead am reading an essay about them written by a psychiatrist. Martin Boyne, the lead of this book, very much like the lead in The Age Of Innocence, analyses constantly instead of thinking or feeling anything. Every encounter with Rose, his fiancée, is just a wall of him analysing and dissecting her behaviour, against all actual evidence, everything is underhand and distrustful, it's almost foul to read. While his own thoughts are somehow constantly hiding from him. I struggle to believe any actual humans think or behave in this manner. In fact, I never got a grasp on Boyne's real emotions. Wharton just had to state them every now and then without making them remotely convincing. I was nearly at the end of the book when I discovered that he is genuinely supposed to be in love with Judith. I just thought he was being obsessive and creepy and that the unconvincing emotions were unconvincing because they were supposed to be illusory or transient, but no apparently it was meant to be real love that lasts for years, and Wharton is just incapable of writing convincing human beings. Why is Boyne obsessed with these children anyway? Not a one of them is remotely interesting. Oops, Wharton forgot to put those scenes in the book. She just tells us Boyne is captivated, without showing why. Unless it is entirely his secret attraction to Judith's mouth. In which case, why is there no conclusion - no popping of his creepiness, no comeuppance or realisation, instead just a slow crawl to the story not being on any more and no actual plot or revelations having occurred.

And then we come to the subject matter of the book, which is intensely creepy from start to finish. Boyne is on his way to meet Rose, whom he loves but was married when he used to know her. Now she is free and he has finished his work and they are to meet again. On the journey, he meets a girl who is looking after her six younger siblings (some of whom aren't blood relations) because their parents are selfish beings who care only for their own pleasure instead of their responsibilities. It's immediately difficult to care that much about the situation, because the children do actually have three or four adults looking after them and are also rich and none of them orphans, but somehow Wharton tries to tell us only poor young Judith is in charge of the children. Her one desire is to keep them from being separated by any more volatile divorces. Boyne is captivated by how Judith seems old, because she is a mother to the siblings, and young, because she has had no education or life of decency to shape her. Eventually Boyne meets up with Rose, and Judith and the children follow him, and his attraction to Judith destroys his relationship with Rose. Instead of caring, he revels in how he can be unconstrained romping around with the children, without ever actually trying to help them in any practical way, and his attraction for Judith, which other adults are clearly aware of, starts messing with him as he loves her as a wife and the poor innocent girl loves him like a father. The only saving grace here is that the book is written by a woman, so presumably not meant to be as creepy as it is, but it is riddled with a man's desire for a pubescent girl, lots of lingering descriptions of her rosy lips, and added with his obsession with all the children, it just comes across as the story of a wannabe paedophile. Unfortunately there is no comeuppance. When he finally gives in to his desires, Judith is so innocent, trusting and seeing him as a father, that she doesn't even notice what he is saying. We never find out what horror she might feel if she really knew or was made to have a physical relationship with him. Instead the children go back to their mother and Boyne runs away for three years, then bumps into one of them and finds everything went to pot and he watches a now legal Judith lustfully through a window and then runs away again. I mean, I say legal. I have no idea what the ideas of age of consent were in the 1920s - apparently it was totally fine to give children alcohol and cigarettes, and although it is frowned on that Boyne fancies Judith, only because he is engaged to Rose, otherwise it is seen as quite natural. Only Boyne himself - protesting too much as he repeatedly calls and describes her as a child to distance and disguise his feelings for her finds it disturbing for a man in his forties to want to be romantically involved with a minor. Unfortunately his constant framing her as a child while still coveting her, only makes him seem more like a paedophile than ever, casting a dark shadow over his ease and obsession with the other children even more, especially since the 'adult society' he is running away from, that with Rose, is so pleasant, loving and understanding - not oppressive as he claims.

Anyway, it wasn't as boring as The Age of Innocence, nor as depressing as The House Of Mirth, but it was by far much more disturbing. I read it with a curl of disgust on my lip and I wish it had had a Wikipedia page so I could have just read the summary instead of having to slink through the whole book, which has almost no plot, and no satisfying conclusion, and apparently, almost no problem with sexual predators, or at least, no desire to examine the can of worms it is cracking open. Added with Wharton's interminable style of analysis instead of actual dialogue and actions, I am glad to be on the other side, in a world where I never have to read another word she wrote.

[Dierregi · Rating 2 out of 5]

Martin Boyne is 46 and for all his life he thought he was in love with Rose, who married another. When Rose's husband dies, Martin feels it's time to abandon his itinerant life as a bachelor engineer abroad and marry his now-available sweetheart. On the way to meet her, he bumps into a bunch of seven unruly, spoiled brats and his plan changes radically.

This plot is rather bizarre because in my experience there are few middle-aged men who like children and enjoy their company, except in a creepy way. But Martin is genuinely "charmed" by the Wheater children, the fruit of several marriages and divorces, and therein lies one of the major problems of this mediocre novel.

Wharton tells the reader that the children, apart from being filthy rich, are quite ordinary, two of the girls are vain and greedy, one is just a baby, and a couple are "loud, uncontrollable, dark Italians" (made me laugh, being Italian myself, but not your stereotype loud and dark person): none of them is charming, except the older Terry and Judith, who are teenagers and not children.

Many contemporary readers objected to the fact that Martin fells for Judith because she is underage, but older men liking young girls is nothing new and it happens all the time. I did not find Martin’s attraction particularly objectionable, provided he had the brains and sensitivity to wait to pursue it, but I objected strongly to the tone of the novel. Wharton makes Martin overanalyze everything and understand nothing, which is pretty tedious.

Besides, the flimsy device of Judith and Martin fighting to keep the assorted children together, even if all the parents could claim their rights, seem preposterously stupid and naive. The character of Rose, who actually set the plot in motion just vanishes in the background, never being fully fleshed as a person, but as a conveniently meek, older woman doomed to lose her man to the charm of fresh teenager Judith.

Finally, even Judith is nothing more than a cipher, ambiguously described as innocently flirtatious, but totally unaware of the passion she inspires in Martin. The ending echoes that of the vastly superior "The age of innocence", with an older man taking a trip to memory lane, but once again, being too passive - or already dead inside - to try to take advantage of any new opportunity that might have arisen.

Kind of pointless, superficial and not much fun to read

[Sherien · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Children tells the story of forty-something year old Martin Boyne and his relationship with the Wheater children he met during his travel on a ship. The Wheater children are seven stepbrothers and sisters who refuse to be separated in the midst of their parents’ separation. Boyne’s encounter gets further more than it should be when he becomes attracted to one of the children—15 year old Judith Wheater.

As we can find in her other stories, Wharton tells a story about an impossible relationship. Wharton’s skill in delivering a heartfelt story can be seen in the way she tries to picture out Boyne’s true sincere feelings. She managed to reveal what seems impossible & unimaginable, possible. Readers in a way are drawn to understand Boyne’s dilemmatic feelings: Caught between his desire towards a 15-year-old girl and a woman he has been seeing for quite a long time.

Another Wharton's usual motive is picturing the high society's behavior. The Mr. and Mrs. Wheater in the story are interesting characters to perceive more closely. They love their children that much that they even decided to take care those that aren't biologically theirs. On the other hand, they seem to be too busy living up to their society 'demanding' needs that they don’t have direct involvement with their children. Instead, 15-year-old Judith plays the parent role to her brothers and sisters, appearing to be far more mature than her actual age.

Well, I give this book three stars not because it isn’t a good story. Still we can identify Wharton’s astounding ability to create a story, but personally I don’t feel emotionally attached as with her other stories I’ve read so far especially towards the main character. Aside to its dark tone, The Children have several comical parts that are quite enjoyable to read. The relationship between the children is very touching and quite entertaining.

Still a good book to check out if you are a Wharton’s fan.

[Robert Blumenthal · Rating 5 out of 5]

Although not quite up to the brilliance of such books as The House Of Mirth and The Age of Innocence (not many novels are), this is a lighter but wondrous novel written relatively late in Wharton's career. It is wittier and less ponderous than most of her work, yet it is still a sad view of our human condition. The energy of "the children" adds much joy and humor to this oeuvre, yet the adults (especially the narrator and the parents of the children) are as deeply flawed as any that Wharton has written about. The story is basically the narrator trying to keep together a group of seven children while their parents do everything they can to split them up. In addition, the narrator is dealing with a love relationship of his own, which is greatly hindered by his involvement in the affairs of the children. For fans of Edith Wharton, this is a must read.

[Wendy · Rating 3 out of 5]

Kept hoping for a happy ending as I read it, even though I know that's not Wharton's style. I'm not talking rainbows and lollipops happy, just a runner-up kinda happiness. But Wharton's characters only have one vision of perfect happiness, and when they can't realize it, they pretty much stop trying for any.

Still a well-written and realistic look at people in an escalating set of circumstances. Can't help being anything but bittersweet.

(BTW, the cover art on the copy I have is absolutely ridiculous and has nothing to do with the novel.)

[Karenbike Patterson · Rating 3 out of 5]

Poor Martin Boyne. He's a bachelor who agrees to watch over 7 children who are variously related to each other and want to remain together while their immature and selfish parents and step parents divorce and remarry. Martin gives up an appropriate engagement to a mature and understanding woman to fall in love with the eldest of the 7 who is only 15. Of course, nothing works out and Boyne goes off to work in Rio. When he returns the kids are scattered. I suppose this was all tragic and scandalous in 1928 but today it just seems silly and improbable.

[Em Mc · Rating 4 out of 5]

I hated this book. I loved this book. Edith Wharton really is that girl.

[Marija · Rating 3 out of 5]

In some ways, Wharton’s The Children reads like a strange combination of Henry James’ What Maisie Knew and Nabokov’s Lolita. With those two stories in mind, one would think that Wharton’s story would be equally “sensational” in both mood and tone. It’s not. Through all of the changes that do occur over the course of the novel, the tone of the story is marked by an underlying sense of stasis, reinforced by Martin’s own inability to come to terms with his feelings for the young Judith Wheater. It is interesting how Wharton achieves this.

However, I think the weak point of Wharton’s novel is her portrayal of the characters, especially Judith. At first glance, Judith appears to be the adult figure in her family, trying to keep everything and everyone together. Yet when reflecting upon her thoughts and actions, she is still very much a child, and one that is very unlike the initial image of the all-knowing, worldly adult figure the reader is presented at the beginning. The images of Judith the reader is given throughout the novel are conflicting, perhaps one could argue, to reflect the conflict of Martin’s own crisis of feeling for Judith. Yet regardless, Judith somehow remains a flat character from beginning to end. Throughout the course of the novel, it is hard to understand her appeal. In some ways, she reminds me of Amelia Sedley in Vanity Fair...i.e. one of those plain, nondescript types who somehow manage to “innocently” ensnare the affections of every man she meets, the men gravitating towards her like moths to a lamp. Both Martin and Mr. Dobree are enamored with her, but the reader is left wondering why? Because of this, I think whatever disturbing or disconcerting feelings the reader may have from reading Wharton’s novel, originate here.

When I began this novel, I was hoping to find a story that had emotional and psychological depth both in regards to characterization and style. While Wharton’s style of writing does seemingly evoke the emotional crisis of her main character, for the most part, her other characters read like superficial caricatures, especially when comparing this novel with other similar works.

[Sonia De la rosa · Rating 4 out of 5]

El primer libro que leo de esta autora y seguramente que no será el último. Ha sido empezar a leer y no poder soltarlo.
Algunas veces la trama me ha parecido algo surrealista. Un grupo de 7 niños que viajan solos, con la única compañía de una institutriz y una niñera. Judith, la hija mayor de esta singular familia es la que hace el papel de madre. Los niños son frutos de los diferentes matrimonios frustrados de los padres, algunos son hermanos, otros hermanastros, y un par que ni siquiera son hermanos. Pero Judith está empeñada en conseguir que los siete sigan juntos, que los vaivenes sentimentales de sus padres no los separen haciendo que vivan con las nuevas parejas de sus padres, ni sean paquetes que viajen de un lado a otro.
En unos de estos viajes caprichosos de sus padres los niños conocerán en el barco a Martin Boyne, un viejo amigo de sus padres que hace años que no se ven. El hombre quedará fascinado por esos niños, y por la relación que tienen entre ellos. Y sobre todo no puede evitar sentir una cierta atracción por Judith, una adolescente que cuando están presentes los niños se comportan como una mujer adulta pero cuando esta a solas con él ve a esa niña que aún no ha cumplido los 16 años.
Martín que a sus 46 años ha decidido que ha llegado el momento de casarse con la mujer de la que ha estado enamorado durante años. El encuentro con los niños harán que sus planes se vean alterados. Se convertirá en un aliado fiel en la empresa emprendida por Judith.
La autora en este libro hace una crítica de la vida disipada de los ricos. Hombres y mujeres que viajan de país en país, de hotel en hotel buscando la diversión olvidándose del cuidado de sus hijos, "niños de hotel" como los llama ella. Unos niños que ven como los matrimonios de sus padres se rompen trayendo nuevas parejas y con ellos nuevos hijos y que tienen que hacerse su propio núcleo familiar.
El libro se lee con mucha facilidad, con una narración fluida Edith Wharton nos mostrará la soledad que vive Martín, que en un principio parece que los niños llenan.... pero sólo es un espejismo... El final me ha dejado un regusto meláncolico...

[Pamela · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bachelor Martin Boyle is captivated by a group of children he meets on a cruise ship. He discovers he used to know their parents, and he renews his acquaintance with them. As the adults flit from one glitzy hotel and resort to another, falling in and out of love, marrying and remarrying, the children hatch plans to allow them to stay together and find some stability.

Wharton skilfully describes the social mores and attitudes of these upper class Americans as they wend their thoughtless way across Europe, and brilliantly captures the mixture of cynicism and innocence their parenting creates in their children. Martin's ambivalent feelings for the oldest child, Judith, are sympathetically dealt with - Wharton succeeds in creating understanding for his confusion, even while revealing his self delusion.

Funny, poignant, sharply observed and brilliantly written, this was a very enjoyable story.

[Wealhtheow · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is the only Wharton story I can think of that has children as the main characters; she's surprisingly good at writing them. The basic tale follows a middle-aged man who, through a shipboard friendship with a young woman, becomes the nominal guardian of seven children. The children's parents, all jet-setting superficial types who have married and subsequently divorced each other, use the children as pawns in divorce settlements and suchlike--only the children themselves want to stay together as a ragtag little family. I always want to fling Wharton books across the room when I'm done with them, and this was no exception. For all the lack of a happy ending (like this comes as a surprise), it's an almost upbeat book.

[Margaret · Rating 4 out of 5]

Martin Boyne befriends a loose family of unruly children on board a ship and gets far more than he bargained for when he's drawn into their family affairs and starts to fall in love with the eldest, fifteen-year-old Judith. Man, I came so close to bouncing off this one. Regrettably, Wharton just doesn't do children well; their precocity is faintly repulsive. Fortunately, once she's finished introducing the children, it becomes much more interesting, as she trains her piercing gaze on the shenanigans of their much-married parents. Much of the book is more comic and less scathing than her best, yet the relationship between Martin and Judith is very well done, bittersweet and complex.

[Susan · Rating 5 out of 5]

I found this book quite fascinating. It held my interest all the way through, as I could not decide "what would happen" with any of the story arcs. The children's personalities are so well described that you can practically see them. The motivation of the central character (Martin Boyne) is a little harder to understand. I'm not sure it deserves the full five stars, but it is more than a four, so.... Had it been available, I would have picked 4 1/2!

[Jonathan · Rating 2 out of 5]

Not much to say except that I did not enjoy this very much. Light on plot, an uncomfortable age-gap would-be romance, and not as amusing as I suspect it was intended to be. One of Edith Wharton's later novels, and apparently one of her own favourites, there is a redeeming theme of Bright Young People era parents who have children but not the time to look after them. That's pretty much all I took from it though.

[Marisol · Rating 4 out of 5]

La prosa de Warthon es un poco poesía, puede hacer que sientas cosas que no imaginabas.
Este mundo ideal que subyuga al protagonista y lo hace cambiar el rumbo de su vida, por nada dirían muchos, por todo diría el.

[Lisa Anderson · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not my favorite of hers.