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charliehvb 's review for:
Lady Chatterley's Lover
by D.H. Lawrence
I feel vaguely like I need to defend why I like this book, and so I shall!
Something about Lawrence has always struck me as terribly earnest - things in his novels/poems would, in the hands of another, strike me as so trite they'd undoubtedly make my teeth ache. Yet when he writes them, it speaks to a weird, sentimental part of me that is happy to sigh and luxuriate in fields and feel alive. I'm very much the sort of person to whom Lawrence spoke, so, to a point, I'm at his whim.
Still, I did think this was beautiful. Out-of-date? Naturally - 100 years will sometimes do that. That being said, I don't think that this is entirely wrong in its ideas, at least insofar as the narration goes (Mellors's ranting is suspect, but in the same arena as a blues song, which I also still enjoy). If you are a sexual creature, there's something in it that will probably strike you as true. It gives a sort of glory to the act of fucking which, if you let your cynicism down for a moment, sounds about right. Good sex - good cunt, if you will - can do wonders. If you've lived your whole life wanting, in any variety of ways, and are suddenly given your desires? Well, who's to say what madness will ensue? I can't fault Constance for behaving in the way that she did, because suddenly she feels right. Suddenly the regimented, sterile life she's lived proved itself false and she gets out as best she can, albeit in a frantic rush to unchain herself. It's not an out-of-this-world proposition. Anyone's who's gotten away will understand that tatters of a life behind are infinitely better than fetters.
And yes, Lawrence's viewpoint is a narrow one of man-meets-woman and then everyone feels a little bit better, but I don't think it's /didn't find it overly hard to imagine in any scenario which will suit your fancy.
Something about Lawrence has always struck me as terribly earnest - things in his novels/poems would, in the hands of another, strike me as so trite they'd undoubtedly make my teeth ache. Yet when he writes them, it speaks to a weird, sentimental part of me that is happy to sigh and luxuriate in fields and feel alive. I'm very much the sort of person to whom Lawrence spoke, so, to a point, I'm at his whim.
Still, I did think this was beautiful. Out-of-date? Naturally - 100 years will sometimes do that. That being said, I don't think that this is entirely wrong in its ideas, at least insofar as the narration goes (Mellors's ranting is suspect, but in the same arena as a blues song, which I also still enjoy). If you are a sexual creature, there's something in it that will probably strike you as true. It gives a sort of glory to the act of fucking which, if you let your cynicism down for a moment, sounds about right. Good sex - good cunt, if you will - can do wonders. If you've lived your whole life wanting, in any variety of ways, and are suddenly given your desires? Well, who's to say what madness will ensue? I can't fault Constance for behaving in the way that she did, because suddenly she feels right. Suddenly the regimented, sterile life she's lived proved itself false and she gets out as best she can, albeit in a frantic rush to unchain herself. It's not an out-of-this-world proposition. Anyone's who's gotten away will understand that tatters of a life behind are infinitely better than fetters.
And yes, Lawrence's viewpoint is a narrow one of man-meets-woman and then everyone feels a little bit better, but I don't think it's /didn't find it overly hard to imagine in any scenario which will suit your fancy.