Thoughts on Ethan Frome

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When I first knew I had to read a novel named Ethan Frome, I, without reading the back cover, suspected that it would be a boring biography of some historical and adventurous man of whom I would never head about outside of literature class. I was worried that I would have my usually difficult time getting involved with this book. However, I was pleasantly surprised that my interest began to grow as soon as page five.
The first feeling I get from Ethan Frome is a sense of cold isolation. The cover of my version of the book is a blurred picture of a dark house surrounded with twig-like trees, cold and empty snow and a burnt sandy colored sky. The vision especially affected me because my moods are influenced by weather and surroundings. For example, I am my happiest when the sky has that distinctive clarity to it–the kind where there is no barrier of hazy fog between the air we breathe and that deep frosty blue color. Therefore, seeing such a dark world with no blue sky puts my mind in a dismal type of mode. I despise winter; the novel takes place in that season. I also get a sense of death and extinction. A few examples are the “exanimate” remnants of Ethan’s sawmill and the dead vines on the farmhouse’s front porch. The town’s name “Starkfield,” says it all. I am beginning to think that the winter setting is just a parallel for Ethan, considering all the darkness and hardship he has supposedly gone through.
I believe...

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