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A review by irreverentreader
Sons and Lovers by Geoff Dyer, D. H. Lawrence
1.0
Do you ever read a book and immediately feel like you should go take a hot shower to wash the yuck off? This is that book for me.
The only word for it is toxic. Literally ever character in this book is repulsive, and yet I felt like much of the time Lawrence was trying to present them in a positive light. Since learning that this story was partially autobiographical, I can only imagine that to be true. Within was not one single redeeming character; all of them with the emotional maturity of a teaspoon, all of them just as bad at the end (maybe even more so) as they were at the start.
Perhaps this was an honest stab at observing true life, as it did feel unflinchingly realistic, but these were people that I would avoid at all costs in my daily living, and spending an entire 400 pages with them was an exhausting endeavor. Lawrence, undoubtably, has some very skewed ideas of what love and marriage was as seen by the abusive marriage of Mrs. and Mr. Morel and the cringe-worthy internal thoughts of Mrs. Morel, who somehow still "loved" her husband after twenty-some years of neglect.
It is also reflected in Paul's disgusting treatment of both Miriam and Clara. I cannot count how many times the word "hate" was thrown around in this book. The grotesque vacillations CONSTANTLY between hating these women and loving them made me viscerally angry. Either the author did not understand how to write true emotion or Paul is a sociopath; either is entirely likely. And don't even get me started with the horribly damaging relationship between mother and son--I'm too exhausted even thinking about it.
This book really has no saving graces for me--the writing itself is mediocre, the repetition severe, the actual construction of character done in an unconvincing way, the toxic masculinity of the character and the author repugnant--it leaves me very, very disappointed, and also terribly upset that I plan on reading Lady Chatterly's Lover for my 1928 book.
The only word for it is toxic. Literally ever character in this book is repulsive, and yet I felt like much of the time Lawrence was trying to present them in a positive light. Since learning that this story was partially autobiographical, I can only imagine that to be true. Within was not one single redeeming character; all of them with the emotional maturity of a teaspoon, all of them just as bad at the end (maybe even more so) as they were at the start.
Perhaps this was an honest stab at observing true life, as it did feel unflinchingly realistic, but these were people that I would avoid at all costs in my daily living, and spending an entire 400 pages with them was an exhausting endeavor. Lawrence, undoubtably, has some very skewed ideas of what love and marriage was as seen by the abusive marriage of Mrs. and Mr. Morel and the cringe-worthy internal thoughts of Mrs. Morel, who somehow still "loved" her husband after twenty-some years of neglect.
It is also reflected in Paul's disgusting treatment of both Miriam and Clara. I cannot count how many times the word "hate" was thrown around in this book. The grotesque vacillations CONSTANTLY between hating these women and loving them made me viscerally angry. Either the author did not understand how to write true emotion or Paul is a sociopath; either is entirely likely. And don't even get me started with the horribly damaging relationship between mother and son--I'm too exhausted even thinking about it.
This book really has no saving graces for me--the writing itself is mediocre, the repetition severe, the actual construction of character done in an unconvincing way, the toxic masculinity of the character and the author repugnant--it leaves me very, very disappointed, and also terribly upset that I plan on reading Lady Chatterly's Lover for my 1928 book.