Lady Chatterley's Lover (by D. H. Lawrence)
Usually when books are banned for being "obscene" there's not much true obscenity in them. But hooray for D.H. Lawrence, because his book actually delivers on the promise of obscenity. We've got the ass fondling, the flowers decorating the pubic hair, and many paragraphs devoted to the majesty of the penis and the sexual act. Perhaps not coincidentally, this is the only D.H. Lawrence book I've read that I don't actively hate.
It does hit at some type of fundamental truth about sex and love, with lovely and beautiful imagery. (The last page is a crescendo of sorts.) Something about it reverberated, reminded me of Lawrence's wonderful poem, "Whales Weep Not" in that it provoked an emotional and sensual response. Lady Chatterley is also a good character and I liked her and thought she was portrayed well; nice to know D.H. doesn't necessarily write women badly.
But still, there is an entire chapter of this book where a guy talks about women who don't have an orgasm exactly when he has one, which means they are all "Lesbians." And every woman in this book has an orgasm by waiting until the guy is done, then "writhing their loins till they bring themselves off" instead of A) being helped out a little, or B) coming at the exact proper moment that their partner would like them to.
In conclusion, this book was written by a man.
"Yet in some curious way it was a visionary experience: it had hit her in the middle of the body. She saw the clumsy breeches slipping down over the pure, delicate, white loins, the bones showing a little, and the sense of aloneness, of a creature purely alone, overwhelmed her. Perfect, white, solitary nudity of a creature that lives alone, and inwardly alone. And beyond that, a certain beauty of a pure creature. Not the stuff of beauty, not even the body of beauty, but a lambency, the warm, white flame of a single life, revealing itself in contours that one might touch: a body!" (p. 51)
It does hit at some type of fundamental truth about sex and love, with lovely and beautiful imagery. (The last page is a crescendo of sorts.) Something about it reverberated, reminded me of Lawrence's wonderful poem, "Whales Weep Not" in that it provoked an emotional and sensual response. Lady Chatterley is also a good character and I liked her and thought she was portrayed well; nice to know D.H. doesn't necessarily write women badly.
But still, there is an entire chapter of this book where a guy talks about women who don't have an orgasm exactly when he has one, which means they are all "Lesbians." And every woman in this book has an orgasm by waiting until the guy is done, then "writhing their loins till they bring themselves off" instead of A) being helped out a little, or B) coming at the exact proper moment that their partner would like them to.
In conclusion, this book was written by a man.
"Yet in some curious way it was a visionary experience: it had hit her in the middle of the body. She saw the clumsy breeches slipping down over the pure, delicate, white loins, the bones showing a little, and the sense of aloneness, of a creature purely alone, overwhelmed her. Perfect, white, solitary nudity of a creature that lives alone, and inwardly alone. And beyond that, a certain beauty of a pure creature. Not the stuff of beauty, not even the body of beauty, but a lambency, the warm, white flame of a single life, revealing itself in contours that one might touch: a body!" (p. 51)
posted by mo pie at 10:01 AM
2 Comments:
I found Lady Chatterley's Lover beautifuuly written. DH Lawrence absolutely captures the essence of his characters and the nature of love and modernity. Just because Mellers thinks women should orgasm simeltaneously with men doesn't mean DH Lawrence himself pig-headedly belives the same!
I didn't much care for Lady Chatterley's Lover. I just read it and it kind of seemed to me like one of those romance novels with Fabio on the cover (not that I've ever read one of those, of course :). Uptight upperclass woman meets hunky gamekeeper who rocks her world! I also didn't like the way Lawrence described the miners as such horrible, pitiful almost subhuman creatures. They were working men, after all.
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