Josh’s Notes: Ethan Frome, a.k.a. Sonny Bono ain’t shit

You know what pissed me off about high school? No, not the fact that we had to get up at “O Dark Thirty” To get there in time for the first class at 7 am or some shit. And no, not the fact that my lunch was at 10:30 for some ridiculous reason. And no, not my lack of fashion sense. That one’s on me, I don’t know how fashion or clothes work. I shopped from dumpsters.

No, what I hated were those stupid books they made us read in English class. Shit that no teenager in their right mind would ever read on their own, (except for The Cather in the Rye, that’s my second favorite book and I shan’t hear otherwise!)   

Typically, for these situations we would all do some ‘90s life hacks and just go buy Cliff’s Notes. Cliff was a smart dude. He made an assload of money off of lazy, stupid kids. God bless the American dream. And now, I decided to get in on the action. So I’m doing Josh’s Notes, for books that kids are forced to read much like Alex with his eyes forced open in A Clockwork Orange. And I will begin with a book that I recall to be especially lame (cause it’s got romance and girly stuff in it) and boring (because it takes place in New England) stuff all up in it: Ethan Frome.

Once upon a time, back in ye olden days, when there were more horses than cars on the roads, lived a man named Ethan Frome in the small town of Monotonous, Massahamprhodemont, the 15^th and a half state, (State Motto: Does anybody remember what color grass is?). Ethan walks around the town with a gangsta lean that intrigues some new dude who came to town to, I dunno, start a snow bingo parlor? It’s not important.

Anyway, New Dude is intrigued by Ethan and his limp, (bonus points to you if you can explain to me how that makes sense) so much so that he starts to ask the townsfolk what Frome’s deal is. Everybody, from the cobbler, to the blacksmith, the barkeep and the haberdasher, (those seem like jobs in the late 19^th century, right?). And people all basically tell him the same thing: there was a “smash-up”. And refuse to explain any further. Curiosity abounds for this cat.

What does a “smash-up” mean to you? To me it means two dudes charging at each other while wearing helmets and ramming each other like deer or any animals with antlers. Of course the guys would have to be drunk first, that’s just a given. But no. The real answer is even stupider.

But I’ll get to that later.

So one day, during a brutal snowstorm, (or as they call it: Tuesday) newbie is stuck in Ethan’s house overnight. Which gives him a chance to bug Ethan about his past, 25 years ago. Now keep in mind, this guy isn’t a journalist, he’s not a biographer, he’s just some nosey weirdo who wants to know why Ethan has a limp. That’s like going up to a “little person” and asking how they ended up being so short. Gauche!

Here’s where the icky romance comes in. Ethan has a wife, but she’s sick and a total load. To help take care of her and the house, you know, wife stuff, they bring in his wife’s cousin. By the way, the wife’s name is Zenobia, so you already know she’s gonna be a bitch.

Ethan and the cousin, Mattie, spend a lot of time together, working the farm, doing the dishes, playing Settlers of Cattan, whatever. And in their time together they both fall in love (gag!). But because this is stoic-as-hell New England, they’re too proper and uptight to admit it to each other. The best they can do is lingering gazes and the occasional brushing of hands when passing the milk jug or lice brush.

Eventually, even though she’s bedridden, (Except for when she’s not. Seems psychosomatic to me.) Zendaya soon figures out that those two got a thing going on and decides to send Mattie away and get another servant girl. Preferably one from Brazil who is immune to the cold and walks around the house in the skimpiest frock woven out of burlap available in 1895. That’d be my choice. 

As Ethan takes Mattie to the train station, they pass a hill that they had once hoped to sled down, because that is something adults love to do. Go sledding. As they prepare for a run down the hill, Mattie suggests a suicide pact.

Let’s break this down.

So far in the book, they have only kissed once. That’s it. They’ve never seen each other’s anything. They’ve haven’t done anything. The book’s author, Edith “I was never held as a child” Wharton, fancies herself some sort of American Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet never consummated their love either. Those “star-crossed lovers” and Ethan and Mattie all have the same mental defect. They’re all about some pure “love beats all” kind of thing where they only think about the moment and not the future. I’d love to see a Romeo & Juliet 2, where they have to get a studio apartment and Romeo tries to make it as a fortune cookie writer and Juliet drives for Uber and their landlords are Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, because, why not?

Eventually, instead of running away from an obviously insane, demented person, Ethan agrees. So, they hop on their sled, “Cool Runnings” and go down the hill, aiming for a big ass tree to crash into. As far as suicide attempts go, I give them points for originality. But I also have to take those points away for stupidity.  If you’re gonna go out, suicide by cop is always the best. Driving a sled into a tree is as effective as trying to slit your wrists with a series of papercuts.

Clearly, Ethan didn’t die. Also, Mattie didn’t die, awkward… But she’s an invalid and stuck in bed and now Zuul, or whatever I said her name is, has to take care of her and Ethan and everybody is miserable. The end.

So there you have it. Ethan Frome. Aren’t you glad you didn’t have to actually read it? Not a fucking ninja is sight! Join me next time, when I give notes on To Kill a Mockingbird. Or maybe The Davinci Code. Who knows?