Man, does Ruth love Latin. From this excerpt, the reader is lead to believe that Ruth is now pushing it as a means to a professional end. But only a chapter before, she cites Latin as a source of culture - culture being "the end in itself." So why the change? In my opinion, it reflects Ruth's inability to separate culture from class and class from career - that they are all intertwined. I forget the proper name for the theory, but a few years ago I took a class that cited a Marxist(?) theory (maybe Class Realization Theory, or something with a similar name) about the idea that social classes are educated to then become professionals, members, whatever, within that same social class, thus perpetuating the existing stratification. Part of the theory rests on the ignorance of those within each class of the larger system at play - they don't know that the system is built to deter class mobility. How this is relevant to Ruth, and Olney in a slightly different way, is that Ruth knows the traditional steps of turning into a professional (through being a student and from osmosis of being within the class, itself), but she is only regurgitating the knowledge (her knowledge is precisely the parrot-learned knowledge that Martin finds he detests at the high society soirees where the attendees don't discuss the "best within themselves," but instead submit to small talk). So, is it that Ruth really loves Latin? Or does she love that she knows how every other person (besides Olney) belongs to a community that values the same things (however practical they are to career "foundation") - because what else do we want to do than feel like we belong? In this way, I believe London is touching on a larger social phenomenon with Ruth as the medium through which it shows.

Here, Ruth identifies the M.O. of high society: avoidance of that which is other. London allows the reader to finish Ruth's sentence for her, completing her idea that just because "nasty" things exist in the world, doesn't mean you have to write about them. The theme of avoidance is everywhere in the novel. First, Martin learns that avoiding slang lands him in a better light with the Morse's (Ch X), then progressively that avoiding his past acquaintances, friends, and family even will allow him to break with his former self in order to effect a true transformation, but one of my favorite examples comes from Chapter XXVII, where Martin comments on his "conscious aim... to increase his strength by avoiding excess of strength." It is apparent that he has to dance delicately to reconcile his brutish reality with the type of "realism" that would be acceptable to publishers. Martin learns about two opposing schools of fiction (school of God vs. school of clod), much mirroring the two opposing classes represented by Ruth and himself. Was "The Pot" too divisive to be literature enjoyed by both classes? Was he not delicate enough about the real "humanness" of it? The penultimate chapter (XLV) reveals Martin's semi-acceptance of and realization that Ruth and Martin's love was unnatural and crafted by the very thing that she, originally, could not stand: his art. The circular nature of the "publication and the public notice" being the very thing that strengthened Ruth's love is now unavoidable. In this moment, among others, it seems that Martin's inability to avoid this revelation is what separates him from the natural-born middle class, and the breakdown is imminent.

Ruth's comments reveal a few larger divides between herself and Martin and the classes into which they were born. First is a matter of semantics, something curiously important to Ruth in her critiques of Martin's work, etiquette, and especially his speech. She calls his work "confused" instead of confusing which, for anybody else, may be inconsequential as it is not incorrect... but she attributes agency to the literature, itself (AND in the past tense). In doing so, is she passing the blame of confusion onto the literature instead of recognizing her own inability to understand? The combination of deflected blame, tense and agency confusion, and an inability to grasp the meaning of Martin's work as an error of the art, scream hypocrisy, something that the following lines reveal even more. Ruth next claims that the essay's confusion is her sole "criticism in the large way." Don't we feel like she would follow this with specific critiques? Otherwise, why mention the "large way?" Her critique is vague and, in turn, useless. Moreover, it feels untrue: since when does she care about the clarity of "action," especially the type familiar to Martin? Doesn't it make her uncomfortable? And the idea of "extraneous material" reminds the audience of what really is extraneous, unrelated, or unnecessary. It begs the question: does Ruth really know what "extraneous" means? If it is a confusing work, would she really be able to tease out that which is relevant and that which is extraneous. It reminds me of the closing scene between Martin and Ruth when she tells him it is "unnecessary" to walk her home (Ch. XLV), yet she is recently out of danger and trembling with fear. Though it feels like a normal, situational comment to protect one's pride in a dispute of the heart, there is enough evidence throughout to show that, despite Ruth's assertions about what is extraneous or unnecessary, she knows neither.

Like earlier in the novel, Ruth still lacks the ability to recognize content, instead of superficialities like sound, jargon, rhythym, etc. Previously, her criticism was directed at his verbal speech: "It isn't what you say, so much as how you say it" (62). Now, she is clearly distracted by rhythm and a word that vaguely symbolizes Martin's beginner level writing. While "amateurishness" is a week descriptor for such a critical ear, Ruth's inability to connect with the story, itself - the real content - could have something to do with how foreign the subject matter is to her. Whether the title, "The Wine of Life," brings no familiar connotations, or the adventurous content is completely foreign to her, or if there is a further commentary here regarding her "trained ear" and an implication that the kind of training done is not expansive but restrictive like the training humans put animals through, there may be a number of reasons for Ruth's inability to see content, but each one elucidates a distinct divide between class, experience, education, and attitude in Ruth and Martin.