I had read Kate Chopin's The Awakening before, but I only remembered once I had finished re-reading it. I did not remember finishing it because I could not recall what happened, but having definitely finished it this time, I know why I couldn't remember the ending. She essentially commits suicide, which is too easy a way to wrap up a book which tangles emotions and beings and conflicts till only a high degree of inner tension is left. Then again, no one wants to read about how that tension explodes, so maybe that's why I forgot the ending: it was a relief not to have to get into that pain.
Edna Pontellier's inward struggle only confirms something I have noticed in my own daughter: the more she realizes she has thoughts and feelings and wants which are distinct from mine, the more unhappy she is. It makes me sad, because we really are a small part of a Great Big Wholeness but we feel that in order to be ourselves we must exert our own force of personality which proves our individuality. I am not sure this is the answer.
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