I remember in High School, I bought myself a book a day and placed it squarely on the corner of my desk. Proud and always eager to read it. A new novel or short story every single week, oftentimes a different one every other week. In college, I couldn’t tell you the number of books I’ve read for my own enjoyment unfortunately. And that saddens me tremendously. And then 2026 came along and I read Project Hail Mary, recognizing the love I had for the novel once more. That was in January. I started reading another book I never finished, Once Upon A Time In Hollywood. I read it intermittently in January, in February, and in March and still have yet to finish it. All of a sudden, here we are. The Awakening by Kate Chopin, finished in two days. Interview With The Vampire, finished in four days (one of which I stayed mostly in the hotel.) To be back in the midst of literature warms my heart and excites my childish spirit, something I’ve been internally begging myself to do for years now. And it feels so good. But let's rewind.
I have no expectations. Stepping off the flight and into New Orleans, I knew not what to expect. Walking down that terminal, picking up my luggage, awaiting others. I possessed this nervous energy. Feeling that pit in your stomach when you don’t know what the hell you're doing but you can’t go back. And then I saw Andrew, and we were off for the races. And what a wonderful introduction it was having not been able to attend or take part in any pleasantries nor meetings. I had no sense of who anybody was, fully just immersing myself instantaneously. For better or worse, I didn’t know. But I immediately felt welcomed and as more of the group trickled in, started to get a better sense of who I’d be surrounding myself with for the better part of a month. What a lovely group it was, would be the first and last of its kind for me in this particular setting and program and that excited me more.
We somehow lugged everything inside very strategically (tetris) and we were off! And my god, what a sight for sore eyes. A radically new biome (for Sadie) and landscape, something completely foreign to me. Marshes, swamps, bayous, wtf? Mind you, I myself grew up surrounded by mountainous regions, scorching heat of 120 degrees, frigid, cold temperatures in the nighttime and snow only 3 times in the 15 to 20 years I’ve lived there. All my life, I knew the desert. Louisiana was something else entirely. A whole lot of firsts for me. And as we rode, I was just sitting in awe. My mouth an ‘O’. Riding that lengthy highway, viewing the endless stretches of marshland and swampland for all the eye could see. Subconsciously preparing myself for the landscapes that these upcoming novels would feature. Becoming excitedly so. In my mind, constantly inquiring how this land was made inhabitable at ALL. How in the heck did they construct these extensive bridges of miles upon miles upon miles of roads? It fascinated me greatly, my architectural mind going 100 mph.
And so arriving at the Grand Isle, it completely subverted my expectations in how calm it was. How utterly quiet it was if you were to step outside and breathe in the air for a moment. Nothing but bugs chittering about. I could immediately see myself living here if not for the underlying politics that no doubt invaded the area. Case in point, the many American flags hung high and proud, a couple of Confederate flags passed by. Republican signs stuck into the ground almost like a huge arrow saying ‘AVOID. AVOID. AVOID.’ Despite that, I could feel the pull of the water. Much like that of Edna in The Awakening, that constant magnetic pull to the water. Almost like we belong solely there.
When I tell you, the feeling of sitting on the balcony in a short and sandals. Darkly, cloudy weather looming about as the wind picks up speed every once in a while. It was the perfect setting to read such an older novel set in a time long forgotten, long disappeared. And I couldn’t help but think of the homes, the buildings, communities made extinct by the ever-rising water, the many floods and tides over the past centuries. Entire histories erased and made to be combed over. Much like that of Edna, I feel. Or put it simply, the many hopeful lives of women teeming with life and ambitions and goals made extinct because of the societal expectations set upon them because of their own gender. The redundant belief that they must give birth to a child, care for their children, live in the captivity of their own home, setting aside their own dreams to fit themselves neatly into this unfair box called womanhood alongside a (usually) unloving husband.
Which is why I found it absolutely astounding this depiction of Edna that is so rich and unapologetically honest in its portrayal of someone breaking away from social norms and struggling to separate themself from all that tethers her to the world. And to be honest with you, why wouldn’t you want to do so in New Orleans & the Grand Isle? It feels almost as if distant from society altogether, in a quiet world of its own absent of expectations and law. As I read through the novel, I could visualize these descriptions of the Grand Isle so clearly as if I could place myself in the grand narrative. I could hear these private conversations between Edna and Adèle on the beachside front, can feel the calming effect of the waves, and hear the chirping of birds and seagulls. Considering I am very much a visual learner, I felt it enlivened my experience quite a bit. I just felt as if I was immersing myself in an audiobook with sound effects. Genuinely was so authentic.
And as I got to the end of the novel, and as we transitioned to her time in New Orleans, there was still this underlying freedom attached to the sea in this story. This sense of liberty that came with visiting the beachfront, it seemed only when she was happiest and it’s no coincidence that she’s experiencing this inner turmoil for pretty much the entire second half having been deprived of that joy. And so taking a walk alongside the beach, I attempted to put myself in her steps. Understand what she may have been thinking in those last few moments, if she was thinking anything at all? But being out there, I understood. It was extremely dark. I could feel that warm, humid air on my skin even though I could simultaneously feel a couple of droplets as the night droned on. Could see even the many oil rigs hundreds of miles away in the sea, lights of boats passing the coastline. I took all of this in. Looked up at the night sky and for a second, I could understand why she’d swum out to sea. Letting the sea consume her, able to finally escape all that consumed her racing mind. All these restrictions and beliefs on how she should carry herself. And I imagined Edna stepping out into the water and never looking back. But alas, that was not me. I stepped back from the water, and understanding that fiction was merely just fiction, I bid Edna farewell and continued walking on. Promising myself, that if it ever got too much. I will keep pushing, in fact. And I would avoid Edna’s example.
Because all in all, I feel that despite Kate's depiction of Edna being so extremely realistic. I think she sort of faltered in Edna’s final moments allowing her to take the easy way out. I feel that goes against the grain of her character, everything that she stood for. To be honest, I don’t think Edna would ever allow herself to get so worked up over Robert, in the end. I do think Robert came to be her true love but in the end, I can’t see her choosing to throw her life way ultimately over a man. I think for this to be such a revolutionary piece of feminist literature, it still falters in that it's so central about men. Way too overly reliant on other men and honestly, that may be my only critique throughout it all. Well, that and the ending, of course…….
I give the Awakening a 7.5/10.