The prompt
This sentence appears at the start of chapter 5 of Edith Wharton’s novel, The House of Mirth: “The observance of Sunday at Bellomont was chiefly marked by the punctual appearance of the smart omnibus destined to convey the household to the little church at the gates. Whether any one got into the omnibus or not was a matter of secondary importance, since by standing there it not only bore witness to the orthodox intentions of the family, but made Mrs. Trenor feel, when she finally heard it drive away, that she had somehow vicariously made use of it.” In 150 words or fewer, tell me why this is such a good sentence.

ChatGPT’s response
This sentence is brilliant because it captures, with quiet irony, the entire moral atmosphere of The House of Mirth in miniature. Wharton’s exquisite precision turns a mundane Sunday ritual into a social x-ray: the “smart omnibus” becomes a symbol of appearances valued over substance, propriety over piety. The churchgoing carriage need not even be used; its mere presence performs virtue on behalf of those too self-indulgent to attend. Wharton’s syntax mirrors the genteel hypocrisy she skewers — the long, elegant clauses glide as smoothly as the Trenors’ social façade. The phrase “vicariously made use of it” delivers a wry sting, revealing Mrs. Trenor’s shallow self-deception and, by extension, the hollow moral theater of her class. In one polished, perfectly balanced paragraph-length sentence, Wharton achieves what she does best: exposing the genteel rot of high society through wit, restraint, and devastating observational precision.

My response to Chat’s response
When I agreed to author this column, I didn’t fully appreciate what a terrifying masterclass it would be in generative AI’s ability to produce breathtaking literary analysis in mere seconds. Because let’s be clear: Chat’s answer to my question is pure fire. If a student of mine at Harvard or Columbia had offered up this analysis for a grade, then I would have unapologetically awarded it an A. In under 150 words, Chat not only correctly elucidates why the sentence works so well as a standalone sentence, but also helps us understand how the sentence functions as a biopsy of the entire sociocultural universe of the novel. One shudders to think what it might have produced had I allowed it more than 150 words.

All of that to say: this is a tough articulation to critique, but since that is the point of this column, let me see if I can force a flex. If I were feeling exceedingly fussy, then I might observe that Chat reads the sentence almost exclusively through a moral or satirical lens — it leans heavily into the “appearance versus substance” dichotomy — which, while valid, misses some of the tonal and technical brilliance of Wharton’s prose. The humor of the sentence, for instance, isn’t merely social irony; it’s architectural, it’s material. The sentence is constructed like the omnibus itself: stately, well-appointed, a little over-decorated, and moving with slow inevitability toward its destination. Wharton’s rhythm and balance perform the genteel emptiness they describe. This is the quintessence of the marriage of literary form and function.

I might also argue that Chat’s analysis underplays how Wharton’s narrator aligns herself with this hypocrisy — not through moral condemnation, but through amused complicity. The line “made Mrs. Trenor feel … that she had somehow vicariously made use of it” evokes sympathy as much as satire; it captures the psychological comfort of ritualized self-delusion. This is another reason the sentence is so devilishly clever: it doesn’t just expose vanity — it inhabits it with knowing tonal poise.