The most enjoyable—and, I think, successful—parts of this are Tarkington's descriptions of urban sprawl, and the inability of the elite to imagine a world that doesn't maintain their privilege. That said, this is an incredibly frustrating read in most other ways. Similar to House of Mirth, the fits-and-starts timeline is aggravating. By the time Georgie meets Lucy at 18 I hated him enough for the lifetimes of all individuals named in Genesis. The supernatural swerve at the very end of the book was eye-rollingly bad, and Tarkington's inability to imagine a world in which his hateful character is not granted unearned mercy make me wish I had a physical copy to throw across the room.