Hehehehe you are not alone Janine!
I read both your posts :nod:
Are there more of these pages..you seem to have many books about L and his works :thumbs_up
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Hehehehe you are not alone Janine!
I read both your posts :nod:
Are there more of these pages..you seem to have many books about L and his works :thumbs_up
Manolia, thanks so much. Now at least we are back on the first page, when I put Lawrence into search. Yes, I have more pages of this "Introduction"/commendary to my particular version of the novel to post. I have to scan some of it yet. Interesting, isn't it? I think it recaps everything well and also gives us a little more to think about, like we don't have enough already to think about on here presently. hahaha.
Enjoy your 'Rose' book! and thanks again....J
Janine you haven't voted yet in the poll above
(although i am pretty sure what your vote will be :D )
I admit I have not read those posts, Janine. But you wanted me to comment on the Tortoise poem and the short story. Well, I only have two hands, and one brain. :p :D
manolia, Yes, I imagine you would know. I just voted and Yeah! It has 6 votes - way ahead!Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
Well, Virgil - only one brain...really? I was sure you had a 'duality' of brain. Well, I know what you mean. I need about 4 of me for this site and PMs, emails, and IM's. I have been going crazy lately!
About your post in the Tortoise thread - I read it today and it is excellent! I will comment later. Thanks for posting so much. It was quite long too, and really summed things up in the poem.
The short story thread is well underway, with most of the posting by Grace, Pensive and Downing and some by me, too. I stayed a little subdued there, wanting them to think out the story and discuss it first. They are doing great! They tease me and call me the "Leader". It is fun and as I told you before, we girls are doing fine on this story without you, so take a short story break if you want to, you deserve it. Maybe this month is an all girl's session! ;) Hey, best thing is they are all interested now in Lawrence's work. Asa would be pleased, since he was trying desperately to interest his class in L and they just would not respond.
Yes, just wanted to remind everyone I was still here and hoping for a few more comments.... eventually ;) . I did not think we fully discussed those closing scenes so important to the book, but maybe I am wrong. At any rate, if you can just try and read the parts of the 'Introduction' I am posting, since it does take a bit of time to scan all that text and correct some, I would appreciate it. It is quite good, I think.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
:lol: :lol:
See, Janine? I am bringing the thread on top :lol:
Hey manolia, is this becoming a contest - trying to save WIL from obscuity? hahehe haha :lol:
I will scan some more pages soon and post them. 'Food for thought' for all of you diehards :D
Going out this evening and I only have 'one brain and two hands!' :lol:
Once again getting my precious WIL discussion on the first page of the Lawrence search. Ok, found this map in my book and scanned it for everyone to see.
Lawrence's area in WIL. If you notice near the top is Willey Spring Wood; a little below this is a body of water with a boat house at the bottom - I believe this is Willey-Water. The rest can be related to the story using the key.
http://i125.photobucket.com/albums/p...awrenceMap.jpg Hope it is of interest to you:
Thanx for the map Janine (for an engineer it's always easier when a map is provided :lol: )
I keep bringing the page on top ;)
Thanks for the map Janine. I wish I had while reading. As an engineer, I too love maps. Whenever I read a Faulkner novel, I always open up a map of his fictional county. I'm going to re read the Snowed Up chapter and then comment on it.
manolia and Virgil, I somehow thought you engineers would appreciate this map.;) I like them too, being a visual thinker.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
The map also depicts places in some of L's other novels I believe, and in the short story we are currently discussing. I guess the 'apple does not fall far from the tree'...so they say. Memory takes us back to where we first came from, and so it was with Lawrence.
Virgil, I will be anxious to hear your 'take' on "Snowed Up", but will patiently await your posting, so don't stress out.
I am sorry I had to miss out on the discussion as well as the reading. My mother passed away last month.
I reverted to some short reads since then and have just picked up Women in Love again. Never got too far in it... off to check out the other group reads now.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Gracewings
I am sorry to hear that. Well wishes and blessings to you and yours.
The discussions for book club never really go away. So whenever you finish you can make any comment you have, there are many here who would like to carry on the conversation.
Gracewings, I am so sorry and sad to hear this bad news, too. I second what Grace86 has said. Take your time now and take care. You can post anytime later on in this thread. I will always be here.
Janine thanks for posting the map by the way. I just got around to seeing it, and it helps put things into perspective a bit more.
Kudos to you for keeping the thread going!
Thanks grace86 - I don't want to give it up yet. haha....*keep me hangin on*...need music notes. :lol: Seriously I think we kind of trailed off at the end without discussing fully the climax scene "Snowed Up" and the final scene....so I keep hoping. Virgil said he wanted to comment definitely on "Snowed Up" but I realise he has been busy, me too - we both are overwhelmed a bit.
Hey, grace86, I found too goodies at my library - two huge volumes on Understanding Literature - over 1000 pages each - textbooks and look like they never were even used or opened. They are in the freeby give-away bin. I was so thrilled to get them. Bad news is not too much L in them but a wealth of other information on zillions of authors, plus tons of short stories, poetry, commentary, etc. How cool is that and all free?
Glad to see you over there in Tortoise poems. I laughed to see you there. Yes, I am really stimulating your brain about L's works. I have just been researching online some ideas I have on the poem. Wow, I get deeper and deeper into it.
Glad the map helped. I like maps and it interested me about Lawrence's area/plus how they relate to his novels/stories. I found some direct references to the "The Shades of Spring" in my book today - the fact that indeed, Syson is Lawrence's alter-ego. I can't wait to post in there tonight, but first I have to scan that part of the book - too much to type, I think.
I wanted to look more closely on chapter 30, "Snowed Up", the climatic chapter. Look at the first few paragraphs:
So we see that the Gerald/Gudrun relationship is a "contest" and it is a contest of "wills."Quote:
WHEN URSULA and Birkin were gone, Gudrun felt herself free in her contest with Gerald. As they grew more used to each other, he seemed to press upon her more and more. At first she could manage him, so that her own will was always left free. But very soon, he began to ignore her female tactics, he dropped his respect for her whims and her privacies, he began to exert his own will blindly, without submitting to hers.
Notice the symbols here. The stars (Ursula and Birkin relationship) set against "the mountain-knot" the Gerald and Gudrun realtionship. The stars are clear and static. The ice world is described in mechanized, kinematic terms, "pivot". A "mountain-knot" is a new reference here, knot representing both the never ending cycle that Gudrun and Gerald are caught in and the unfathomable mystery that is unclear and enigmatic, that which cannot be untied.Quote:
When Ursula had gone, Gudrun felt her own existence had become stark and elemental. She went and crouched alone in her bedroom, looking out of the window at the big, flashing stars. In front was the faint shadow of the mountain-knot. That was the pivot. She felt strange and inevitable, as if she were centred upon the pivot of all existence, there was no further reality.
And they shortly have their first battle:
She destroys him with logic and words, all in a knot of logic. She was the one who introduced the thought that he never loved her. It's actually untrue, but the logic of the exchange has him accept it.Quote:
`Are you alone in the dark?' he said. And she could tell by his tone he resented it, he resented this isolation she had drawn round herself. Yet, feeling static and inevitable, she was kind towards him.
`Would you like to light the candle?' she asked.
He did not answer, but came and stood behind her, in the darkness.
`Look,' she said, `at that lovely star up there. Do you know its name?'
He crouched beside her, to look through the low window.
`No,' he said. `It is very fine.'
`Isn't it beautiful! Do you notice how it darts different coloured fires -- it flashes really superbly --'
They remained in silence. With a mute, heavy gesture she put her hand on his knee, and took his hand.
`Are you regretting Ursula?' he asked.
`No, not at all,' she said. Then, in a slow mood, she asked:
`How much do you love me?'
He stiffened himself further against her.
`How much do you think I do?' he asked.
`I don't know,' she replied.
`But what is your opinion?' he asked.
There was a pause. At length, in the darkness, came her voice, hard and indifferent:
`Very little indeed,' she said coldly, almost flippant.
His heart went icy at the sound of her voice.
`Why don't I love you?' he asked, as if admitting the truth of her accusation, yet hating her for it.
`I don't know why you don't -- I've been good to you. You were in a fearful state when you came to me.'
Her heart was beating to suffocate her, yet she was strong and unrelenting.
`When was I in a fearful state?' he asked.
`When you first came to me. I had to take pity on you. But it was never love.'
It was that statement `It was never love,' which sounded in his ears with madness.
`Why must you repeat it so often, that there is no love?' he said in a voice strangled with rage.
`Well you don't think you love, do you?' she asked.
He was silent with cold passion of anger.
`You don't think you can love me, do you?' she repeated almost with a sneer.
`No,' he said.
`You know you never have loved me, don't you?'
Now we see why Birkin is skeptical of love. Love for most (those that cannot achieve the star love like Birkin and Ursula) is a cycle, you love, you don't, you love you don't, another mechanized loop.Quote:
`I don't know what you mean by the word `love,' he replied.
`Yes, you do. You know all right that you have never loved me. Have you, do you think?'
`No,' he said, prompted by some barren spirit of truthfulness and obstinacy.
`And you never will love me,' she said finally, `will you?'
There was a diabolic coldness in her, too much to bear.
`No,' he said.
`Then,' she replied, `what have you against me!'
He was silent in cold, frightened rage and despair. `If only I could kill her,' his heart was whispering repeatedly. `If only I could kill her -- I should be free.'
It seemed to him that death was the only severing of this Gordian knot.
`Why do you torture me?' he said.
She flung her arms round his neck.
`Ah, I don't want to torture you,' she said pityingly, as if she were comforting a child. The impertinence made his veins go cold, he was insensible. She held her arms round his neck, in a triumph of pity. And her pity for him was as cold as stone, its deepest motive was hate of him, and fear of his power over her, which she must always counterfoil.
And Lawrence gives us several of these cycles in this climatic battle in this chapter. I have more still to say on the climax, but I'll stop here for now.
Hi Virgil,glad to see you back. This is good. Yes, it is very much a "contest of wills" they are actively engaged in.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
This is excellent! Your explanation seems accurate to me. I had been wondering what the significance of the "mountain-knot" and the word "pivot" was and this is perfect. It clears up many questions in my mind. Interesting observation "unfathomable mystery that is unclear and enigmatic, that which cannot be untied." I must think about this line more.Quote:
Notice the symbols here. The stars (Ursula and Birkin relationship) set against "the mountain-knot" the Gerald and Gudrun realtionship. The stars are clear and static. The ice world is described in mechanized, kinematic terms, "pivot". A "mountain-knot" is a new reference here, knot representing both the never ending cycle that Gudrun and Gerald are caught in and the unfathomable mystery that is unclear and enigmatic, that which cannot be untied.
Terrific! I had not thought of this either. It makes perfect sense to me now. Again the whole idea of a knot. How interesting.Quote:
And they shortly have their first battle: (see Virgil's post for dialogues/quote)
She destroys him with logic and words, all in a knot of logic. She was the one who introduced the thought that he never loved her. It's actually untrue, but the logic of the exchange has him accept it.
Now we see why Birkin is skeptical of love. Love for most (those that cannot achieve the star love like Birkin and Ursula) is a cycle, you love, you don't, you love you don't, another mechanized loop.
And Lawrence gives us several of these cycles in this climatic battle in this chapter. I have more still to say on the climax, but I'll stop here for now.
I will wait to hear what you add to this. It is all very enlightening to me.
My deepest sympathy, Gracewings. I lost my father in September, and it was not easy. I know how you feel. May she be in a better place.Quote:
Originally Posted by Gracewings
Thank you for your encouragement Janine. :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Virgil, Another thought on the knot. Does it not mimic the couple who drown in the lake - were they not intertwined like a knot, causing death?
:idea: Great thought Janine. There are lots of interconnections like that throughout the novel.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
What I noticed in "Snowed Up" was how self destructive and selfish Gudrun was. Gerald did love her, so when she twisted the logic up and made him admit that he didn't, I was like "what the heck is going on?"
Why would she be so self destructive?
That whole chapter was filled with tension...I think definitely it was the climactic chapter in the book...things just kind of rupture.
Help me out guys, I think it was in "Woman to Woman" or the previous chapter to "Snowed Up," but I think Ursula and Gudrun were having a conversation and Ursula had the thought that Gudrun would never experience love....it was something like that...I can't remember exactly.
Virgil, Yes, I agree there are 'interconnections throughout the novel'. You know, the more I read other Lawrence work, as well, the more I see the same the same sort of images running throught them, such as this knot, moon, sun, flower references, mythical symbolism, etc. many seemingly 'set' images in the authors mind/subscious (;) ) perhaps.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
Grace, I think Gudrun intentionally begins to distance Gerald and sabatoge/undermine their relationship, then make it seem, even to herself and her own satisfaction, that Gerald is the one at fault. Why would she act this way? It is life - people do act this way. They don't always do the logical thing. I think from the beginning Gudrun had the potennial for this sort of behavior, perhaps passive aggressive. I did not feel shocked by it; rather I felt it destined to take place that she would be the one to reject him and in such a cruel way. I think she had it in her all the time to be strong-willed and dominent - just look at the scene when she gives him the back-handed slap and the comments she makes. As, Virgil, pointed out with the this couple, Gudrun and Gerald, from the start, it has been a 'war of wills' and a test for each at whole would hold out longer. I think part of the reason Gudrun was so drawn to Gerald was the challenge to beat him at his own game of 'will'. When he first came to her in the night he was willful, don't you think? I think always they go back and forth lording the power over each other. As Virgil said they have not accomplished the magnificence/beauty of love and a relationship that works such as Birkin and Ursula have.
Grace, 'rupture' is a good word to use at the climax.
I will look up that chapter. I think it was further back in the book or maybe even the very first conversation the women had when coming out of their house, in the chapter "The Sisters".
I'm afraid I don't recall, Grace.Quote:
Originally Posted by grace86
But Grace Gerald is just as self destructive. Once Gudrun has shut him out (or was it a smultaneous shutting of each other?) Gerlad goes through these cycle of thoughts. Some more from "Snowed Up," chapter 30:Quote:
Originally Posted by grace86
"In the calm, static reason of his soul" he realizes that she is not dependant on him. Remember Ursula and Birkin are in static opposition, autonomous but in love. Those caught in the cycle of love require dependence, actually interdependence. (This is all Lawrentian thought, so take it as not reality, unless of course you buy into Lawrence's world view.) Interdependence brings us back to that knot, the wrapping of each lover's subconscious with each other. Notice the metaphor. They are both going static not in perfect star love, but as a stone, impervious and isolated.Quote:
It seemed to him that Gudrun was sufficient unto herself, closed round and completed, like a thing in a case. In the calm, static reason of his soul, he recognised this, and admitted it was her right, to be closed round upon herself, self-complete, without desire. He realised it, he admitted it, it only needed one last effort on his own part, to win for himself the same completeness. He knew that it only needed one convulsion of his will for him to be able to turn upon himself also, to close upon himself as a stone fixes upon itself, and is impervious, self-completed, a thing isolated.
This affects his very soul, his subconscious starts to affect his person.Quote:
This knowledge threw him into a terrible chaos. Because, however much he might mentally will to be immune and self-complete, the desire for this state was lacking, and he could not create it. He could see that, to exist at all, he must be perfectly free of Gudrun, leave her if she wanted to be left, demand nothing of her, have no claim upon her.
It brings out in him what was deep inside, the will to kill. He killed his brother in childhood, and the chaos has brought that nature out.Quote:
But then, to have no claim upon her, he must stand by himself, in sheer nothingness. And his brain turned to nought at the idea. It was a state of nothingness. On the other hand, he might give in, and fawn to her. Or, finally, he might kill her. Or he might become just indifferent, purposeless, dissipated, momentaneous. But his nature was too serious, not gay enough or subtle enough for mocking licentiousness.
And then a great paragraph:
"Rent," "torn" - remember earlier in the novel he was described as fragmented, broken. I forget where that was, but I pointed it out in an ealier post. He cannot give in to her and lose his individuality. He must also press his will on her.Quote:
A strange rent had been torn in him; like a victim that is torn open and given to the heavens, so he had been torn apart and given to Gudrun. How should he close again? This wound, this strange, infinitely-sensitive opening of his soul, where he was exposed, like an open flower, to all the universe, and in which he was given to his complement, the other, the unknown, this wound, this disclosure, this unfolding of his own covering, leaving him incomplete, limited, unfinished, like an open flower under the sky, this was his cruellest joy. Why then should he forego it? Why should he close up and become impervious, immune, like a partial thing in a sheath, when he had broken forth, like a seed that has germinated, to issue forth in being, embracing the unrealised heavens.
Virgil, good post. I will comment on it tomorrow. I am too tired out now. I quite agree with most of what you have said. Question - which chapter did you take the last quote from - about how far into the chaper? I don't recall reading that part - maybe I was a half asleep when I read it. It is a great passage.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
:nod: Nice and helpful posts. :nod: I agree with both of you concerning the fact that Gerald actually loved Gudrun and she was the one who was trying to convince him that he didn't. She was literally puting words in his mouth, wasn't she???Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Hi manolia and Virgil, nice to see you here again. I keep popping in periodically. Glad these posts have been helpful to you.
Yes, perhaps by Gundrun 'putting the words in his mouth', as you say manolia, she was playing the ultimate power-game with Gerald, for she was controlling his actual responses to her. At this point I see both individuals going into a non-logical state. They are tied up in a 'web' or 'knot' of emotions with no solution. By additional reading I have gathered some new ideas or cleared up some thoughts in my own mind. I have ideas on the Gudrun/Gerald relationship. In Lawrence's book "Apogalypse", which is much later than WIL, Lawrence's expresses clearly his deepest thoughts on mankind and relationships, towards the end of this book. Lawrence believed there were two modes of being in man - the 'collective' and the 'individual'. I believe WIL with the two relationships demonstrates his idea. Ursula and Birkin are both separate yet part of the collective universe and orbiting like stars in perfect harmony with each other. The follow text is part of his concept, but to understand his whole meaning, I may have to quote additional text, some parts leading up to this. For now this is his conclusion on the individual and love. He states that individuals cannot exist in love relationships thus:
Later in the passage he concludes:Quote:
Chapter Twenty-Three
6.To have an ideal for the individual which regards only his individual self and ignores his collective self is in the long run fatal. To have a creed of individuality which denies the reality of the hierarchy makes at last for more anarchy. Democratic man lives by cohesion and resistence, the cohesive force of 'love' and the resistent force of the individual 'freedom'. To yield entirely to love would be to be absorbed, which is the death of the individual: for the individual must hold his own, or he ceases to be 'free' and individual. So that we see, what our age has proved to its astonishment and dismay, that the individual cannot love. The individual cannot love: let that be an axiom. And the modern man or woman cannot conceive of himself, herself, save as an individual. And the individual in man or woman is bound to kill, at last, the lover in himself or herself. It is not that each man kills the thing he loves, but each man, by insisting on his own individuality, kills the lover in himself, as the woman kills the lover in herself.
This is the way in which Lawrence views the whole love concept in 'individuals'. These ideas are purely his and of course much more complicated in the full text of the book. Ofcourse, it benefits to read the whole chapter these came from to see just how Lawrence thought or came to this conclusion. I figure this much will give you all something to think about.Quote:
Or when he loves, when she loves, he must take it back, she must take it back.
This is what has come to me. Gerald and Gurdrun both want to love and do love truly but wish to maintain their own individuality and power at the same time. Therefore this fits in with what Lawrence has said in his "Apogalypse".
Also, I find the last line particularly interesting since 'love is given and then taken back'. So in my eyes now, I would say both did truly love each other, but then withdrew that love out of maintaining their own individuality and sense of power. This was a destructive type of love that could only end tragically.
It also struck me that Loerke represents the individual who will never truly 'love' but keep separate and free in his individuality. Did he not mention often to Gudrun the idea of maintaining her individuality, or is this just a sense I get from him? Also I get the impression that Loerke can never have a full and complete relationship with anyone and will always remain appart and individual throughout his life. Therefore, he does not threaten Gundrun with the same type relationship - this love tug of war - she is now rejecting in Gerald and herself. Loerke is a free-spirit and cares little for others, his main concern is his own art and his individuality, or am I reading him wrong? It seems to me at the end that Gudrun will go the same route now as Loerke has gone with her own sense of free individuality minus responsibilites to another human being.
PS: manolia, guess what film I took out of the library on Friday?
18 pages???? How the heck am I suppossed to keep up with 18 pages???? I'm almost done I'm on XXVIII. Have we already taked about Geralds reaction to the statues way back in VI?
Wonderful explanation Janine! Thanx!Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
On a side note, i believe that you are reading Loerke correctly! After all, it is clearly stated in the book that he is a "free spirit" and he is very like Gudrun, so i believe your explanation is correct.
Hmmmm.. let me see..Was it "Mulholland Drive"? :lol: :lol:Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
papayahed, I am glad to see you are nearly done the book, that you stayed with it. Everyone finished at a different time, which is just fine. Yikes, are there really 16 pages? We sure were ambitious this past month! As Virgil told me, these threads never close or end. A few of us seem to be trying to keep this one going and Virgil still has some things to discuss on the chapter "Snowed Up" I believe. I don't totally recall Gerald's reactions, but vaguely I do, so if you have questions or want to discuss it, I am totally open to reviewing that part of the book and talking more about it. It is quite significant and there are some posts, if I recall correctly, referring to that part of the story and chapter. Quite a number of times the idea of the primative art was brought up - just to recap our discussions. Virgil knows much about this total concept and what was in Lawrence's mind concerning the art, and I posted a 'Introduction' to my book, which is a good commentary; I believe there it also mentions the idea behind the art pieces/statues in chapter VI. I am going out now, but will look all of this up for you later on tonight and direct you to those specific references. Hope to be of some help to you. Yes, 16 pages is too much to wade through.Quote:
Originally Posted by papayahed
manolia, glad you liked the explanation and agreed with it. Of course in quoting from the other book and of Lawrence's philosophical ideas this is only a portion of it taken out of complete context, but it is the essense of what he is saying and getting at in WIL, in my opinion. Glad I was accurate about Loerke or at least those were both our impressions of the way he was.
Yes, the movie just might be that one!:lol:
Papayahed, is this that part you are referring to in Chapter VI?Quote:
Gerald looked round the room. It was an ordinary London sitting-room in a flat, evidently taken furnished, rather common and ugly. But there were several negro statues, wood-carvings from West Africa, strange and disturbing, the carved negroes looked almost like the foetus of a human being. One was a woman sitting naked in a strange posture, and looking tortured, her abdomen stuck out. The young Russian explained that she was sitting in child-birth, clutching the ends of the band that hung from her neck, one in each hand, so that she could bear down, and help labour. The strange, transfixed, rudimentary face of the woman again reminded Gerald of a foetus, it was also rather wonderful, conveying the suggestion of the extreme of physical sensation, beyond the limits of mental consciousness.
`Aren't they rather obscene?' he asked, disapproving.
`I don't know,' murmured the other rapidly. `I have never defined the obscene. I think they are very good.'
Gerald turned away. There were one or two new pictures in the room, in the Futurist manner; there was a large piano. And these, with some ordinary London lodging-house furniture of the better sort, completed the whole.
Ok, for the last hour or so I have been searching through the text and postings for references to the figurines and I come up with some discussions starting at post #117, about Lawrence's 'blood philosophy' which is first layed out and explained by Virgil. If you continue on through post #120, and maybe even a little further on you will see the discussion about the African figures and how they relate to this philosophy or idea. I hope this helps some. You might have to skip over some unnecessary parts of the postings.
Of course as part of looking closely at chapter 30 we should discuss Gudrun and Loerke's relationship.
They have their art in common:Quote:
She had a curious sort of allegiance with Loerke, all the while, now, something insidious and traitorous. Gerald knew of it. But in the unnatural state of patience, and the unwillingness to harden himself against her, in which he found himself, he took no notice, although her soft kindliness to the other man, whom he hated as a noxious insect, made him shiver again with an access of the strange shuddering that came over him repeatedly.
"Art and Life were to them the Reality and the Unreality." Much is made of how Lawrence puts down industrialism in the novel, but he also puts down aesthecism. Art is another diversion, another repetitive cycle to take you away from the spiritual connection. Gudrun seems to be absorbed into Loerke:Quote:
They were almost of the same ideas. He hated Mestrovic, was not satisfied with the Futurists, he liked the West African wooden figures, the Aztec art, Mexican and Central American. He saw the grotesque, and a curious sort of mechanical motion intoxicated him, a confusion in nature. They had a curious game with each other, Gudrun and Loerke, of infinite suggestivity, strange and leering, as if they had some esoteric understanding of life, that they alone were initiated into the fearful central secrets, that the world dared not know. Their whole correspondence was in a strange, barely comprehensible suggestivity, they kindled themselves at the subtle lust of the Egyptians or the Mexicans. The whole game was one of subtle inter-suggestivity, and they wanted to keep it on the plane of suggestion. From their verbal and physical nuances they got the highest satisfaction in the nerves, from a queer interchange of half-suggested ideas, looks, expressions and gestures, which were quite intolerable, though incomprehensible, to Gerald. He had no terms in which to think of their commerce, his terms were much too gross.
The suggestion of primitive art was their refuge, and the inner mysteries of sensation their object of worship. Art and Life were to them the Reality and the Unreality.
`Of course,' said Gudrun, `life doesn't really matter -- it is one's art which is central. What one does in one's life has peu de rapport, it doesn't signify much.'
`Yes, that is so, exactly,' replied the sculptor. `What one does in one's art, that is the breath of one's being. What one does in one's life, that is a bagatelle for the outsiders to fuss about.'
It was curious what a sense of elation and freedom Gudrun found in this communication. She felt established for ever. Of course Gerald was bagatelle. Love was one of the temporal things in her life, except in so far as she was an artist. She thought of Cleopatra -- Cleopatra must have been an artist; she reaped the essential from a man, she harvested the ultimate sensation, and threw away the husk; and Mary Stuart, and the great Rachel, panting with her lovers after the theatre, these were the exoteric exponents of love. After all, what was the lover but fuel for the transport of this subtle knowledge, for a female art, the art of pure, perfect knowledge in sensuous understanding.
And they are very European. They have been to many cities, cycles of cities, as if each city was a work of art to be evaluated:Quote:
`Yes. You cannot go back to the teaching. No --' he shrugged his shoulders -- `that is impossible. Leave that to the canaille who can do nothing else. You, for your part -- you know, you are a remarkable woman, eine seltsame Frau. Why deny it -- why make any question of it? You are an extraordinary woman, why should you follow the ordinary course, the ordinary life?'
Gudrun sat looking at her hands, flushed. She was pleased that he said, so simply, that she was a remarkable woman. He would not say that to flatter her - - he was far too self-opinionated and objective by nature. He said it as he would say a piece of sculpture was remarkable, because he knew it was so.
And it gratified her to hear it from him. Other people had such a passion to make everything of one degree, of one pattern. In England it was chic to be perfectly ordinary. And it was a relief to her to be acknowledged extraordinary. Then she need not fret about the common standards.
And Loerke manipulates her and she is willing to be manipulated:Quote:
`Paris, no!' he said. `Between the religion d'amour, and the latest 'ism, and the new turning to Jesus, one had better ride on a carrousel all day. But come to Dresden. I have a studio there -- I can give you work, -- oh, that would be easy enough. I haven't seen any of your things, but I believe in you. Come to Dresden -- that is a fine town to be in, and as good a life as you can expect of a town. You have everything there, without the foolishness of Paris or the beer of Munich.'
And Gerald at one point wants to know what it is that Gudrun sees in Lorke:Quote:
`A bore,' he repeated. `What does it matter whether I wear this hat or another. So love. I needn't wear a hat at all, only for convenience. Neither need I love except for convenience. I tell you what, gnadige Frau --' and he leaned towards her -- then he made a quick, odd gesture, as of striking something aside -- `gnadige Fraulein, never mind -- I tell you what, I would give everything, everything, all your love, for a little companionship in intelligence --' his eyes flickered darkly, evilly at her. `You understand?' he asked, with a faint smile. `It wouldn't matter if she were a hundred years old, a thousand -- it would be all the same to me, so that she can understand.' He shut his eyes with a little snap.
Again Gudrun was rather offended. Did he not think her good looking, then? Suddenly she laughed.
`I shall have to wait about eighty years to suit you, at that!' she said. `I am ugly enough, aren't I?'
He looked at her with an artist's sudden, critical, estimating eye.
`You are beautiful,' he said, `and I am glad of it. But it isn't that -- it isn't that,' he cried, with emphasis that flattered her. `It is that you have a certain wit, it is the kind of understanding. For me, I am little, chetif, insignificant. Good! Do not ask me to be strong and handsome, then. But it is the me --' he put his fingers to his mouth, oddly -- `it is the me that is looking for a mistress, and my me is waiting for the thee of the mistress, for the match to my particular intelligence. You understand?'
She doesn't answer Gerald here, but she does answer it later to us the reader in a moment of her rationalizing to herself:Quote:
Gerald was gradually overcome with a revulsion of loathing for Loerke. He did not take the man seriously, he despised him merely, except as he felt in Gudrun's veins the influence of the little creature. It was this that drove Gerald wild, the feeling in Gudrun's veins of Loerke's presence, Loerke's being, flowing dominant through her.
`What makes you so smitten with that little vermin?' he asked, really puzzled. For he, man-like, could not see anything attractive or important at all in Loerke. Gerald expected to find some handsomeness or nobleness, to account for a woman's subjection. But he saw none here, only an insect-like repulsiveness.
Gudrun flushed deeply. It was these attacks she would never forgive.
`What do you mean?' she replied. `My God, what a mercy I am not married to you!'
Her voice of flouting and contempt scotched him. He was brought up short. But he recovered himself.
`Tell me, only tell me,' he reiterated in a dangerous narrowed voice -- `tell me what it is that fascinates you in him.'
`I am not fascinated,' she said, with cold repelling innocence.
`Yes, you are. You are fascinated by that little dry snake, like a bird gaping ready to fall down its throat.'
She looked at him with black fury.
`I don't choose to be discussed by you,' she said.
`It doesn't matter whether you choose or not,' he replied, `that doesn't alter the fact that you are ready to fall down and kiss the feet of that little insect. And I don't want to prevent you -- do it, fall down and kiss his feet. But I want to know, what it is that fascinates you -- what is it?'
Gerald is the macho man, Loerke the homosexual. Gerald the industrialist; Loerke the aesthete. Gerald the rich man; Loerke the poor man. Gerald the Englishman; Loerke the German. She has tried one and is now bored with it; it is time to try something different, another thing that may bring happiness, another promise of satisfaction. It is a new mountain to climb, having climbed and done with the previous.Quote:
`As for Loerke, there is a thousand times more in him than in a Gerald. Gerald is so limited, there is a dead end to him. He would grind on at the old mills forever. And really, there is no corn between the millstones any more. They grind on and on, when there is nothing to grind -- saying the same things, believing the same things, acting the same things. Oh, my God, it would wear out the patience of a stone.
`I don't worship Loerke, but at any rate, he is a free individual. He is not stiff with conceit of his own maleness. He is not grinding dutifully at the old mills. Oh God, when I think of Gerald, and his work -- those offices at Beldover, and the mines -- it makes my heart sick. What have I to do with it -- and him thinking he can be a lover to a woman! One might as well ask it of a self-satisfied lamp-post. These men, with their eternal jobs -- and their eternal mills of God that keep on grinding at nothing! It is too boring, just boring. However did I come to take him seriously at all!
`At least in Dresden, one will have one's back to it all. And there will be amusing things to do. It will be amusing to go to these eurythmic displays, and the German opera, the German theatre. It will be amusing to take part in German Bohemian life. And Loerke is an artist, he is a free individual. One will escape from so much, that is the chief thing, escape so much hideous boring repetition of vulgar actions, vulgar phrases, vulgar postures. I don't delude myself that I shall find an elixir of life in Dresden. I know I shan't. But I shall get away from people who have their own homes and their own children and their own acquaintances and their own this and their own that. I shall be among people who don't own things and who haven't got a home and a domestic servant in the background, who haven't got a standing and a status and a degree and a circle of friends of the same. Oh God, the wheels within wheels of people, it makes one's head tick like a clock, with a very madness of dead mechanical monotony and meaninglessness. How I hate life, how I hate it. How I hate the Geralds, that they can offer one nothing else.
I wanted to also wanted to discuss the climax in chapter 30, so be forewarned:
*********************SPOILER**********************
I want to start just before Gerald comes upon Gudrun and Leorke. Gudrun and Leorke are enjoying themselves on the mountain. Loerke takes out biscuits and Schnapps and the two find the moment in the snowy, silvery twilight perfect.
"Whither," a very important Lawentian word. The moment of pleasure, escatasy has come, a potential moment at the point of transcendence. But instead of transfiguring or transcending, the emotion is whither - what next? Here we are but where do we go now? We have reached the end of this cycle of emotion, and so where is the next.Quote:
She could feel their voices, hers and his, ringing silvery like bells in the frozen, motionless air of the first twilight. How perfect it was, how very perfect it was, this silvery isolation and interplay.
She sipped the hot coffee, whose fragrance flew around them like bees murmuring around flowers, in the snowy air, she drank tiny sips of the Heidelbeerwasser, she ate the cold, sweet, creamy wafers. How good everything was! How perfect everything tasted and smelled and sounded, here in this utter stillness of snow and falling twilight.
`You are going away tomorrow?' his voice came at last.
`Yes.'
There was a pause, when the evening seemed to rise in its silent, ringing pallor infinitely high, to the infinite which was near at hand.
`Wohin?'
That was the question -- wohin? Whither? Wohin? What a lovely word! She never wanted it answered. Let it chime for ever.
`I don't know,' she said, smiling at him.
Then Gerald shows up suddenly and smacks Loerke to the ground. But Gudrun still has her pluck:
Here we recall that scene Gudrun strikes that blow at Gerald back at the water-party scene. And as before Gerald is shocked.Quote:
But Gudrun moved forward. She raised her clenched hand high, and brought it down, with a great downward stroke on to the face and on to the breast of Gerald.
Again we have the imagery of Gerald fragmented, openned up. The blow has reached down into his subconscious and that desire to kill comes out:Quote:
A great astonishment burst upon him, as if the air had broken. Wide, wide his soul opened, in wonder, feeling the pain. Then it laughed, turning, with strong hands outstretched, at last to take the apple of his desire. At last he could finish his desire.
He is reaching his moment of satisfaction, his bliss. Strangling her will achieve his moment of satisfaction. But he doesn't complete it. I think this is very important. He has the power and ability to kill her and he doesn't go through with it. Why?Quote:
He took the throat of Gudrun between his hands, that were hard and indomitably powerful. And her throat was beautifully, so beautifully soft, save that, within, he could feel the slippery chords of her life. And this he crushed, this he could crush. What bliss! Oh what bliss, at last, what satisfaction, at last! The pure zest of satisfaction filled his soul. He was watching the unconsciousness come unto her swollen face, watching the eyes roll back. How ugly she was! What a fulfilment, what a satisfaction! How good this was, oh how good it was, what a God-given gratification, at last! He was unconscious of her fighting and struggling. The struggling was her reciprocal lustful passion in this embrace, the more violent it became, the greater the frenzy of delight, till the zenith was reached, the crisis, the struggle was overborne, her movement became softer, appeased.
I can't help but see it as a moment of transcendence over the will of his subconscious. "'I didn't want it, really'" and "'Ive had enough.'" It is as if he realizes that after he kills her, "whither?" "What next?" What would it have accomplished. Everything we have seen and read is his desire and propensity for him to kill her and he overcomes it. I can't quite call it heroic, but some measure of noblity should be given him. And then he is broken inside and goes off and accepts his death. He is tired of the cycles and his only way to stop them is to end himself.Quote:
Loerke roused himself on the snow, too dazed and hurt to get up. Only his eyes were conscious.
`Monsieur!' he said, in his thin, roused voice: `Quand vous aurez fini --'
A revulsion of contempt and disgust came over Gerald's soul. The disgust went to the very bottom of him, a nausea. Ah, what was he doing, to what depths was he letting himself go! As if he cared about her enough to kill her, to have her life on his hands!
A weakness ran over his body, a terrible relaxing, a thaw, a decay of strength. Without knowing, he had let go his grip, and Gudrun had fallen to her knees. Must he see, must he know?
A fearful weakness possessed him, his joints were turned to water. He drifted, as on a wind, veered, and went drifting away.
`I didn't want it, really,' was the last confession of disgust in his soul, as he drifted up the slope, weak, finished, only sheering off unconsciously from any further contact. `I've had enough -- I want to go to sleep. I've had enough.' He was sunk under a sense of nausea.
Two excellent posts, Virgil, lots to think about here. I will answer later tonight.
I have one more analytic post on Women In Love. There is an interesting passage in the last chapter "Exeunt" (chapter 31). Birkin returns to the mountains to help Gudrun after Gerald has died. He goes to investigte the the death scene:
Again we get this "what next" for Gerald if he had lived. Whither? And it's apparent to Birkin that there was nothing left for Gerald.Quote:
Gerald might have found this rope. He might have hauled himself up to the crest. He might have heard the dogs in the Marienhutte, and found shelter. He might have gone on, down the steep, steep fall of the south-side, down into the dark valley with its pines, on to the great Imperial road leading south to Italy.
He might! And what then? The Imperial road! The south? Italy? What then? Was it a way out? It was only a way in again. Birkin stood high in the painful air, looking at the peaks, and the way south. Was it any good going south, to Italy? Down the old, old Imperial road?
And from Gerald he begins to contemplate the religious significance of life.Quote:
He turned away. Either the heart would break, or cease to care. Best cease to care. Whatever the mystery which has brought forth man and the universe, it is a non-human mystery, it has its own great ends, man is not the criterion. Best leave it all to the vast, creative, non-human mystery. Best strive with oneself only, not with the universe.
I find this an interesting religious notion. God is essentially uncaring about man and his predicament in the universe. That is not original. Hardy and other late 19th century thinkers may have shared this. But here I think is where it is only Lawrence's conceptualization:Quote:
`God cannot do without man.' It was a saying of some great French religious teacher. But surely this is false. God can do without man. God could do without the ichthyosauri and the mastodon. These monsters failed creatively to develop, so God, the creative mystery, dispensed with them. In the same way the mystery could dispense with man, should he too fail creatively to change and develop. The eternal creative mystery could dispose of man, and replace him with a finer created being. Just as the horse has taken the place of the mastodon.
It is up to man to put himself in contact with the divinity. This is where Birkin and Ursula in their polar star relationship will be. As you can grasp, the ideal relationship with this divinity is as a plant, basking in the glory of this fountainhead. In other works, the fountainhead tends to be the sun.Quote:
It was very consoling to Birkin, to think this. If humanity ran into a cul de sac and expended itself, the timeless creative mystery would bring forth some other being, finer, more wonderful, some new, more lovely race, to carry on the embodiment of creation. The game was never up. The mystery of creation was fathomless, infallible, inexhaustible, forever. Races came and went, species passed away, but ever new species arose, more lovely, or equally lovely, always surpassing wonder. The fountain-head was incorruptible and unsearchable. It had no limits. It could bring forth miracles, create utter new races and new species, in its own hour, new forms of consciousness, new forms of body, new units of being. To be man was as nothing compared to the possibilities of the creative mystery. To have one's pulse beating direct from the mystery, this was perfection, unutterable satisfaction. Human or inhuman mattered nothing. The perfect pulse throbbed with indescribable being, miraculous unborn species.
One last thing. Now that I have studied Women In Love in real detail, perhaps it is as great or greater than Lawrence's The Rainbow. I encourage everyone to read The Rainbow and let me know which is the greater work. I now have a hard time deciding. This was a real pleasure. :) :)
Ok, I think it is about time for me to answer Virgil's remarks and 3 posts; I am taking them one at a time. When you encounter a : please see his quoted text from his post 7/14/07 10:16PM. Sorry it took me so long to get to these additional comments. Here goes:
Yes, I think that is a big factor. The art draws them together and they can understand each other, both being artists. I think too, that Gundrun is mesmerized and bedazzled with Loerke and his art. She is impressed with his art and him; so she feels associating with him, can lift her own 'statis' as an artist in the art community. She must feel flattered as well, seeing that Loerke has such artistic talent, and has taken an avid interest in her. I think also his directness is attractive to her. She can't help but like that 'directness' and it makes him somewhat dangerous and exciting to know. Loerke is a very unihibited person while Gerald is all inhabitions. Loerke is loose, while Gerald is all tied up in knots.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
This is interesting considering Lawrence himself loved art and painting/drawing. Do you find it strange he would do this in the novel? Do you think, Virgil, that later he felt differently about it? I thought he was putting down the idea of 'art serving industry', not art as a whole.Quote:
"Art and Life were to them the Reality and the Unreality." Much is made of how Lawrence puts down industrialism in the novel, but he also puts down aesthecism. Art is another diversion, another repetitive cycle to take you away from the spiritual connection. Gudrun seems to be absorbed into Loerke:
This Eruopean way that Loerke had only made him the more appealing to Gundrun to know. He could show her around to the inner circle of artists and very European thinking people who would advance her in an art career. I think that Loerke was the link to that other world outside England for Gundrun into that free-thinking Bohemian world of Paris and Germany at the time.Quote:
And they are very European. They have been to many cities, cycles of cities, as if each city was a work of art to be evaluated:
Definitely agree and she likes this manipulation. When someone is manipulated all the pressure is off that person and they can give over to the other and not have to make decisions. He can control her, in a sense; something Gerald was unable to do.Quote:
And Loerke manipulates her and she is willing to be manipulated:
Yes, I did notice this in this chapter. Interesting observation. She knew consciously, but could not relay that to Gerald.Quote:
And Gerald at one point wants to know what it is that Gudrun sees in Lorke:
She doesn't answer Gerald here, but she does answer it later to us the reader in a moment of her rationalizing to herself:
Very good asssesment and contrasts of the two characters; they are about as different as night and day. I think this is just why she gravitates towards Loerke. Given another time and he might have been repulsive to her, but now in the wake of the failed relationship between Gundrun and Gerald it is the right time for a huge change for Gundrun or so she thinks.Quote:
Gerald is the macho man, Loerke the homosexual. Gerald the industrialist; Loerke the aesthete. Gerald the rich man; Loerke the poor man. Gerald the Englishman; Loerke the German. She has tried one and is now bored with it; it is time to try something different, another thing that may bring happiness, another promise of satisfaction. It is a new mountain to climb, having climbed and done with the previous.
Onto next post ~
For quotes when you see : - see post #274.
Virgil, Yes, this is such an important part of the book. Glad you went back to it.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
I did not know about the word "Whither", being an important Lawrence term. I will have to note it in his stories from now on. Thanks for pointing that out.Quote:
I want to start just before Gerald comes upon Gudrun and Leorke. Gudrun and Leorke are enjoying themselves on the mountain. Loerke takes out biscuits and Schnapps and the two find the moment in the snowy, silvery twilight perfect.
"Whither," a very important Lawentian word. The moment of pleasure, escatasy has come, a potential moment at the point of transcendence. But instead of transfiguring or transcending, the emotion is whither - what next? Here we are but where do we go now? We have reached the end of this cycle of emotion, and so where is the next.
So this can be a point of transcendence between Loerke and Gudrun? How can 'transfiguring' and 'transcending' turn into the emotion of 'what next' or 'whither?' I think you have lost me here but maybe you can explain it better to me. If it is as you say isn't it the same with Birkin and Ursula at the end of the book - thus 'whither?' or 'where do we go from here?' When I read this passage you quoted firstly I felt it was strange that all of a sudden Gudrun was in a blissful state of happiness. I could not quite fathom that scene in the book. Help me here. I felt if she truly felt that way she was deceiving herself and hiding from her true being and emotions. Had she totally freed herself from her attachment to Gerald at this point?
Yes, good analogy - she did repeat the blow and said prior at the Water-Party scene she would strike the last blow and so she has in this final scene between them. Again Gerald is shocked, but why do you think?Quote:
Then Gerald shows up suddenly and smacks Loerke to the ground. But Gudrun still has her pluck:
Here we recall that scene Gudrun strikes that blow at Gerald back at the water-party scene. And as before Gerald is shocked.
The 'fragmented' part is excellent. You describe that so well in this last pargraph of yours:thumbs_up ....hummmm....'subconsious' again. ;) You sure have been using that word a lot lately...of course, how can one read L with using it? Do you still not believe in it, V?Quote:
Again we have the imagery of Gerald fragmented, openned up. The blow has reached down into his subconscious and that desire to kill comes out:
'Why' is an interesting question. I wonder if he has just had enough at this point. For one thing there has been much death encountered personally in his life. I think he strangles her and then suddenly something vital inside him just shatters and breaks, and he lets go. He lets go of all his 'will'; thus he gives up and goes off to die alone and dejected of all life.Quote:
He is reaching his moment of satisfaction, his bliss. Strangling her will achieve his moment of satisfaction. But he doesn't complete it. I think this is very important. He has the power and ability to kill her and he doesn't go through with it. Why?
Opps, we think the same way, I had not read your last paragraph yet, when I wrote my last one; so we agree. Good referring again to "whither?" and "What next?". So true - what could possibly be next for him after this? He has met his only option and that is to dissolve and be done with everything. I think he kept things going at home also and he can't return there to that pointless existence. He really is left with no alternative but to seek obscurity in the snow and the finality of death. I don't know if it is heroic either when he refrains from killing Gudrun. But his death does seem noble, somehow to me, as well. Good last line, V. I think it is a matter of him simply being weary of living/struggling, at this point, the kind of living Gerald was experiencing for his entire life, a non vital type of living.Quote:
I can't help but see it as a moment of transcendence over the will of his subconscious. "'I didn't want it, really'" and "'Ive had enough.'" It is as if he realizes that after he kills her, "whither?" "What next?" What would it have accomplished. Everything we have seen and read is his desire and propensity for him to kill her and he overcomes it. I can't quite call it heroic, but some measure of noblity should be given him. And then he is broken inside and goes off and accepts his death. He is tired of the cycles and his only way to stop them is to end himself.
Onto next post ~
Refer to post #276 for Virgil's quotes from book.
I also found this passage curious and very though provoking.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
Yes, now I can clearly see what Lawrence was getting at with this part of the story. I did think at the time that for Gerald there was no other alternative but death. If one explored other possibilites they all would eventually lead to death or obscurity. Gerald's life was spent and he was fragmented beyond repair at the point when he tried to strangle Gundrun. There could be nothing after but death. Birkin does come to this realisation which must have been totally devastating and sorrowful to Birkin who had deeply loved Gerald as a brother.Quote:
Again we get this "what next" for Gerald if he had lived. Whither? And it's apparent to Birkin that there was nothing left for Gerald.
Fascinating quote from the book. I thought it was amazing, when I first read it. It seemed like a new thought to me - one I had never contemplated before. Yes, I believe this - God does not need man. Dinasaurs left the earth and becames extinct and so could man someday - who knows? It is an interesting and curious thought, is it not? This part of the book reminds me of some passages from his "Apocalypse". I don't recall exactly which ones, but it seems to me he repeated some thoughts such as this in the A.Quote:
And from Gerald he begins to contemplate the religious significance of life.
Yes, but Hardy finally claimed to have no belief at all in God, he denied God existed; he claimed to be an atheist. Lawrence seems to believe in a God or Gods, but that God will still exist if, if man no longer exists, at least in this part of his life when he wrote WIL.Quote:
I find this an interesting religious notion. God is essentially uncaring about man and his predicament in the universe. That is not original. Hardy and other late 19th century thinkers may have shared this. But here I think is where it is only Lawrence's conceptualization:
Virgil, all of this gets a little confusing to me. What about after death -will Ursula and Birkin still be as stars and one with the universe? I thought also that plants were inert. Or did you mean to say 'planet' here? Yes, Lawrence felt the 'sun' was the fountainhead of life....something like that. Many ancient civilizations worshiped the sun and this seemed to appeal to Lawrence's ideals. Does the sun work into the scheme of the Phoenix as well -the burning down, to rise from the ashes and live again? I am thinking - sun/fire.Quote:
It is up to man to put himself in contact with the divinity. This is where Birkin and Ursula in their polar star relationship will be. As you can grasp, the ideal relationship with this divinity is as a plant, basking in the glory of this fountainhead. In other works, the fountainhead tends to be the sun.
Well, I read both books and I feel "Women in Love" is the most complete and the best novel of the two, but I should definitely go back and re-read "To the Rainbow". I am sure now, with this additional knowledge I have acquired from our great discussions, I will be able to see much deeper into the novel's meanings and symbolism. I will definitely appreciate it better after a second reading. I too would highly recommend WIL to all and encourage them to try it.Quote:
One last thing. Now that I have studied Women In Love in real detail, perhaps it is as great or greater than Lawrence's The Rainbow. I encourage everyone to read The Rainbow and let me know which is the greater work. I now have a hard time deciding. This was a real pleasure. :) :)
I have some more commentary from two source books to post. I will do that in my leisure and let you all know when I do so. I think it will enhance our total understanding of the novel. What a great discussion this has been thanks to everyone!
Janine, I'll respond to all your questions. But it may take a while. I'll be going away at the end of the week and I'm not sure I'll get to any of t until I come back. Thanks for your reply.
Virgil, don't worry your brilliant little brain about Lit Net posts. Go and have fun! That's fine. Actually, I am glad of it. I am burned out by now:sick: and need a rest.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
Also, I want to post some more of the introduction - some food for thought. I came across some commentary in another book called "D.H.Lawrence Literary Critiques" I have out from my library. It is an older book, but it has some good commentary on "The Rainbow" and "Women in Love". I will probably photocopy the Rainbow part and scan the WIL part. Takes so long to scan though. I wish I could come across these books online - I would buy them gladly. I have been looking. I really want one called "Sons and Lovers" A Casebook edited by Gamini Salgado. It is a good book with all kinds of references in it from letters to critics commentary (in L's time) to his own comments/observations on the book.
Here is a cool site I found last night when I was researching L online:
http://travel.nytimes.com/2006/10/22...ure.html?fta=y
Enjoy! J
You know my signature photo? Well, this is the actual tree the picture was fashioned after, which Lawrence sat under to do his writing in New Mexico. It is a tall stately pine tree. Wonderful, isn't it?
http://i125.photobucket.com/albums/p...oteBeneath.jpg
PS. Virgil - I read your poem you wrote in the contest site and liked it very much. Sorry I forgot to mention it, and now my mailbox is nearly full again. Good job and hope you win!
Hi everyone! I am now posting some more of the commentary by Worthen from my book Introduction:
That is all for now until I scan the remainder. You may have noticed W speaks of 3 key chapters and only two are mentioned here; this is where I left off scanning and will resume soon. I think these passages, and pointing out these three chapters, will give you much to think about and clarify some parts and ideas we discussed throughout the postings. Keep in mind that the next part I post disgusses the 'third chapter' Worthen is referring to so...this is to be continuted.Quote:
In three crucial chapters at the heart of the book, the characters begin to choose which way they will go. Though there is space only to touch on these in reductive outline, here is where difficulty and disturbance concentrate, and an outline may serve as sounding board rather than imprisoning interpretation.
In chapter XVIII, 'Rabbit', Gudrun and young Winifred Crich set out to sketch the 'Looliness' of Looloo the Pekinese; and Winifred produces a wicked little diagram or caricature, which nevertheless is very 'like'. She's an apt pupil for Gudrun, who likes to pin things down, to grasp them once and for all: Gerald as wolf (14:40), birds as little Lloyd Georges (264:3). She sculpts figures of birds and animals one can hold in one's hand. Art for her is a means of knowing as possession, exerting a kind of power over the object - which is why the drawing may do Looloo 'some subtle injury' (236:6). But it is one thing to sketch Looloo, and quite another to haul the great buck rabbit Bismarck out of his cage by the ears, in order to do the same. For he has power of his own, and reacts against the attempts to 'grasp' him by instantaneous violence, tempestuous, almost uncontrollable. This in turn brings welling up in Gudrun; 'fury', a 'heavy cruelty', as her wrists are scored and she battles to control the 'bestial stupidity' (240:30-32). To hear her high voice 'like the crying of a seagull, strange and vindictive' (241:2) is to be reminded again of the scene with the horse at the railway crossing, especially when Gerald' takes over the struggle (110:9-II2:40). But the response of violence to rebellion is height¬ened this time as the man's hand comes down on the rabbit's neck like a hawk, and the animal screams in the fear of death - until, with a final writhe and tearing, it is mastered. Having taken in the scene with the mare, and the scene with the highland cattle which re¬orchestrated it, perhaps we are prepared for the struggle between man and animal to suggest something about the human 'war', the battle between the sexes. (So far, moreover, the action has been predominantly realistic, starting in comedy, surprised into violence.) But now, from behind the realism, once more, the new art begins to open up a dimension undiscovered in earlier fiction, for 'the scream of the rabbit ... seemed to have torn the veil of her consciousness' (241:20-21), and what lies behind the veil in Gudrun and Gerald is revealed to them both presently, beyond disguise.
The language shows the strain of having to put into words something which by definition is almost beyond articulation, and which may therefore seem far-fetched or even absurd - at first. Gudrun looks at him with eyes 'strained with underworld knowledge' (nearly a contradiction in terms, but not for Lawrence), '... like those of a creature which is at his mercy' (an expression caught in the eyes of rabbit and woman alike), 'yet which is his ultimate victor' (241:40-242:1) – unless he could treat her as he has treated Bismarck. He feels 'the mutual hellish recognition' (242:2) as 'she seemed like a soft recipient of his magical, hideous white fire' (242:4-5), of cruelty. 'There was a league between them, abhorrent to them both. They were implicated with each other in abhorrent mysteries' Then follows perhaps the most absurb-sounding sentence Lawrence had ever had ever written. ‘The long, shallow red rip seemed torn across his brains, tearing the surface of his ultimate consciousness, letting through the forever unconscious, unthinkable red ether of the beyond, the obscene beyond’ (242:37-7). But suppose one tried to puzzle this out? Is it that, as Gerald stares into the redness of that gash opened up by violence, he can momentarily sense his way through the bloody medium into this own psyche as well as hers? – and be enveloped and overcome by what comes out of the blood, the fascinating excitement of violence, or exerting power over a living creature sadistically, or masochistically? The Rainbow made it clear that sex is always, for Lawrence, a going through, beyond one’s ordinary self and old consciousness, into a new mode of being. But here the mode is ‘hellish’ and ‘obscene’ because because its ‘either’ – the medium in the space beyond the normal atmostphere, now within rather than above – is the pleasure in violence, whose final frisson is death. Bismarck, then, gets rid of distress and frustration by tearing round and round in meteoric frenzy, seeming mad but actually quite natural. (Yet that word poses disturbing questions in this context. What is ‘natural’? Is violence, war, ‘natural’, or ‘denaturing’?) But as the lovers exchange suggestive hints of the possibilities their subconscious has suggested, they show a readiness to offer and accept rabbit-sexuality and animal violence that may, even now (for conscious human beings), be ‘shocking’ in its ‘nonchalance’(243:33-4). However, the final sentence of the chapter (243:33-4) is a sudden reminder of the path that has been forsaken since ‘Water-Party’. For Bismarck is not the power-wielder and warmonger of his name. In truth he is a mystery, a wonder (like Gerald in the canoe), when seen with reverence for the ‘other’ rather than with the impulse to impose ones’s will and dominate – whether by Winfred’s fantasy and mothering, or in Gerald and Gundrun’s power struggle, to the death if it should come to that.
There is violence and deathliness in Birkin and Ursula, too. Yet the crucial discovery of chapter XIX, 'Moony', is that there is a kind of violence that can heal, as well as a violence that destroys. The changeability of this pair has -been evident since 'Water-Party'. Birkin has been ill, withdrawn. Ursula has again reacted in repulsion at what she sees as his deathliness, and, moreover, with a kind of pure hatred for his very being, oppressive to her ego. As she wanders through the dark trees, she is in a mood of almost annihilating repudiation - hating the brilliant moonlight which makes everything definite and visible to consciousness, drawn to the darkness in which we can lose oneself. Yet here by the pond is Birkin, a shadow, muttering ludicrously, so that she wants to laugh. The flower-husks he drops in the water are reminders of the flowers they scattered on the pond in chapter XI, 'An Island", when they first admitted their love, now gone dead and dry, Birkin thinks that all relations with women are an antiphony of lies. Indeed, the moon suggests to him a horrible female power, like the Syrian goddess of violent sexuality. So it seems in hatred of Woman that he begins to stone the moon's reflection. But, when it is over, he will ask '"Was it hate?"' However much is may be (both in Birkin and the watching Ursula) a wroking off of anger, dislike, frustration, it seems also more, and deeper than that. What happens to dark water and white moon -- as well as in people?
The impact of the first stone makes the moon's reflection look like a writhing cuttlefish, and with a second stone the moon explodes. Waves of darkness run into the centre, but after the near-destruction the moon re-forms. Again, with stones close together, Birkin's explosions momentarily obliterate the moon, but again it re-forms. Then he throws stone, after stone, after stone. And here what seems important is to submit imaginatively to the experience in the language and the rhythm, let it happen within: 'And he was not satisfied ... whole and composed, at peace' (247:35-248:22). It is an experience of extraordinary violence, yet after and through it comes a strange peace, and tenderness, in which words of simple truth can be spoken. Neurosis, hatred, deathliness have vanished (though they may come back). Moreover, after the apparently destructive violence the moon looks different. It no longers seems hard, triumphant, a thing of power. It has become a rose, 'constellated' in the dark water - reminding one of Ursula's rose (not afleur du mal) against Birkin's dark river of dissolution, and of how the rosy lantern balanced and harmonized with the dark one and its writhing sea-creature, and of the symbolism of the rose in many languages. What has happened in the pool and in the subconscious of the lovers seems to be a mode of 'love' in which the relationship can grow through conflict, the clash of personalities, even violence, to harmony and peace. In The Rainbow sex had been seen as a kind of death and rebirth, a loss of consciousness and experience of oblivion at the hands of the 'other' (like the result of the first stonings here), but opening up a new life beyond. But then, as Lawrence rewrote his 'philosophy' in 'The Crown', he had seen that there were times when violence and destruction have to go far indeed before new creation can begin. The subconscious may have to be deeply agitated, neurotic consciousness broken apart or indeed almost completely disintegrated, before the new harmony can come about and the whole self become calm and composed. Yet come about it experientially does - because (this seems important) neither of the opposed forces can overcome the other. Out of the writhing polyp, the crashing noise, the broken water, the splintered light, the shattering violence, come healing, peace and tenderness. '''There is a golden light in you, which I wish you would give me''', says Birkin (249:15), something more than merely personal.
Yet as soon as they begin consciously to speak, misunderstanding flares and conflict begins again. Ursula thinks Birkin is demanding male supremacy, that she should submit and serve, and he is unclear about what he wants. He is also infuriated by the 'Magna Mater' (the Great Female and Mother) in her, and her assertive will and self-insistence (against his). Nevertheless, what they reached for a moment was real, and will come again when the words and the self¬willed 'old stable egos' give way. Afterwards, Rirkin is able to clarify to himself the. different ways that modern men and women can go. In Halliday's African statuette there seemed to be embodied a mode of being which - no longer fusing body, mind and spirit - has given itself over entirely to experiencing and knowing through the senses. This is in the mode of dissolution because it is a falling apart of unified being, reducing back to one element, though Birkin admires its civilization, which has gone much further down the road than his own. (Dissolution may be necessary before new integration can begin.) There is also an opposite 'Arctic' way of disintegration and reduction, when life is wholly dominated by mind and will, the 'white' life we have seen in Gerald.to But now the Birkin who preached about the 'River of Dissolution' has been brought by Ursula and the experience of the pond to glimpse a third way, which he calls 'paradisal', over-optimistically. Yet he has glimpsed a vio¬lence and disintegration which can heal, a conflict after which the 'opposites' can each be themselves again, perhaps indeed more so, but 'constellated' together in new peace and beauty of relation. He goes off impulsively to ask Ursula to marry him - which turns out to be grimly funny, because he doesn't yet understand what he has glimpsed, and because Ursula has changed again, so that another row results. Yet he has found a way ahead.
Oh good heavens! Thanks for taking the time to look.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine