My recent favorite: Edith Warton's "The House of Mirth"

Warton's novel has become one of my favorites for both its thought-provoking content and unexpected storyline. Typically, when I read a book for pleasure I don't mark up the pages with my own ideas, but while reading this book I found that I had to. The book inspired too many opinions and debatable topics in my mind to ignore. This aspect makes the book an excellent example of story telling; the book pushed me to become involved and think for myself outside the novel's realm. The story's unexpected twists also captivated me and represent why the novel is so esteemed. The plot of the story seems materialistic enough; however, as the story progresses the reader learns that there is more behind the heroine than what first appeared. This part of the story made me love the book, how at first I thought Lily Bart was merely materialistic and not someone I could relate to, but eventually I realized how similar she was to all humans in general, with her doubts and discrepancies. The unexpected ending is the main reason why I think the book has many twists, I did not anticipate Lily's suicide (if you can even call it that, maybe an accident?). Here is that part of the book:

She could bear it—yes, she could bear it; but what strength would be

left her the next day? Perspective had disappeared—the next day

pressed close upon her, and on its heels came the days that were to follow—

they swarmed about her like a shrieking mob. She must shut them

out for a few hours; she must take a brief bath of oblivion. She put out

her hand, and measured the soothing drops into a glass; but as she did

so, she knew they would be powerless against the supernatural lucidity

of her brain. She had long since raised the dose to its highest limit, but

tonight she felt she must increase it. She knew she took a slight risk in

doing so—she remembered the chemist's warning. If sleep came at all, it

might be a sleep without waking. But after all that was but one chance in

a hundred: the action of the drug was incalculable, and the addition of a

few drops to the regular dose would probably do no more than procure

for her the rest she so desperately needed… .

She did not, in truth, consider the question very closely—the physical

craving for sleep was her only sustained sensation. Her mind shrank

from the glare of thought as instinctively as eyes contract in a blaze of

light—darkness, darkness was what she must have at any cost. She

raised herself in bed and swallowed the contents of the glass; then she

blew out her candle and lay down.

These last paragraphs seem conclusive about Lily's impending death but I found myself doubting that she would actually die, just as the character herself did. I became connected with her, and in fact, after I finished the book I cried. It is hard for a book to make me cry, but this one did. Lily had become a troubled friend, someone who I knew and she had done something unexpected and left me. Because I hurt, Wharton's novel is what I consider good storytelling, but after all, the storytelling "opinion" depends on the person...