The Portrait of the Lady lacks the wit of Jane Austen and the profundity of Marcel Proust, ending up as a fine, but ultimately forgettable depiction of the life of aristocracy in 19th century England, and their clashes with American culture.
I can’t help but visualize this being something equivalent to a 19th century telenovela that happened to be ascribed literary merit just because of how old it was.
|Provides some insight on the life of 19th century British aristocracy||Dim-witted, annoying protagonist|
|Relatively profound characters||Characters aren’t all that interesting|
|Nothing much really ever happens in the plot|