I have never read a book that has left me with such mixed feelings. Talk about wrangling with demons. Writing this review has been like that for me as well, very mixed. We modern women take for granted that we have a choice with our thoughts and deeds that aren't dictated by the male figure in our lives, be it a father, brother, husband or male confessor, that we don't realize that women 100 years ago didn't have that choice. A lot of reviews on this book seem to focus on the fact that Edna isn't wholly devoted to her children. I think that's one of the points that this book makes. Maybe she never wanted children but society and her husband insisted , and still does sometimes, that a woman is nothing without progeny.Edna wanted what most of us do. Identity, some joy, her own choices. She made them, right or wrong. It's just sad that she felt she had to pay for them ultimately. I commend Kate Chopin for being brave enough to write this as she did. I don't consider this a feminist treatise so much as what the title suggests, a form of awakening that was long past due.