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Originally Posted by
Dark Muse
One of the things I had found interesting during this whole porcess of reading the letter to her, is the distraction of both of them. Though she had asked him to read the letter to him, it seems she already more or less knows what it is. For she does not beleive his version of the letter as he reads it but already has decided the truth of the matter beforhand, as she keeps interupting him with her commentary.
As well it is when he starts to read the letter that Joey comes up, and so she seems to be only half paying attention to him with her focus having shifting upon the bird as he reads. As if the letter is really of no importance at all.
And then there was that seemingly rather odd moment when he suddenly asked about the cows. It struck me as a bit currious when I read it as it seemed a bit out of place and without reason. But just popped out of nowhere.
In the middle of thier conversation he asks about cows, and than the go right back to discussing the letter again.
I also found the slight inconsistency to be currious. She says that she was married to Alfred for six years
But than letter she said that Joey came down from her home with her seven years ago.
So there is a year in which she had not been staying at her home, but it is not very likely back than that she was living with Alfred for a year before they married.
Excellent observations Dark Muse. Those distractions caught my eye too. I do think they are significant, first because the peacock becomes the central symbol of the story and second because the cows are a stark contrast to the peacock.
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Originally Posted by
jinjang
I am one of those easily distracted. I just finished writing a proposal for my work and got here. While I enjoy reading very much all your postings, my arms are up in the air at this point... I have never - never once in my life - dissected a story this much. That is why I am in math - one answer to a problem! I will keep reading all your opinions, though, enjoying it from a safe distance as before. You now have a good listener (reader).
We do dissect the Lawrence stories down to the bone. We really get into the heart of them. I hope you wil like that and I hope you will participate. :)
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Since you are getting tired, I will tell you a funny story to distract you.
Koreans can not pronounce 'th' and so we rough it up like 'd.'
A Korean couple whose ages are thirty and thirty-two would answer to their ages:"I am dirty. I am dirty-too."
:lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: That is a great one Jin!!
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I realize that many Lawrence stories have sex all over hidden, including this one. Men know what they want while women themselves do not exactly know what they want. Maggie, in reality and in all truth, wants Alfred, but clings to Joey as if the bird can satisfy her need of affection. It is pathetic!
Oh, there are plenty of Lawrence women who know what they want in other stories. ;)
Quote:
Originally Posted by
Dark Muse
One of the things which interested me about this story is the title. Titles often play a key and important role in stories, and there most be a specific reason why this one is called Wintry Peacock. It seems here the peacock is made to play a more significant role than just the friendly companion of Maggie but rather there is some deeper statement in the presence of the bird to carry throughout the story and the characters.
I knew the peacock played an important role in many different cultures and so I started some research on symbolism behind the bird. Some of the things I found I think are interesting and while I am not sure what their exact meaning is, I can see who they might perhaps play into this story.
In Christianity the Peacock came to be seen as a symbol of vanity and it was said that even the beautiful peacock thinks his own feet as ugly. This was meant to be a lesson to humans that they should remember their own imperfections and faults.
In Japan the peacock was believed to have the power to devour poisonous serpents and so it came to represent the transformation of evil into good.
In some cultures it is seen as a symbol of immortality.
And best for last, most ironically, and which I find most difficult to see as a coincidence.
The peacock has been known as a symbol of fidelity because peacocks are birds that mate for life, and the male goes through great efforts to try and attract the attentions of his chosen mate.
Dark Muse, those are interesting symbols but you should by now since you've been participating in many of our Lawrence discussion know what Lawrence means to suggest by the peacock. First of all it's a bird and second it's a bird with proud flaming colors and third there is the syllable "c*ck" in its name. :blush: I think you know what I'm saying now. ;)
Quote:
Originally Posted by
Emmy Castrol
I am one of these people too. Often in a conversation I will say something or point out something completely irrelevant from the conversation at hand. I think the reason I do this is out of awkwardness. Plus I am a fidgety person with and find it difficult to concentrate too long on one thing.
The distractions serve a writing role as well as thematic. To just read the letter would be relatively boring. A good writer would naturally break that up into segments and have a little drama going on in parallel. But I do think there is a thematic element to the distraction. I mentioned above how the peacock suggests a male element, and that I'm confident in. What I'm less confident is in what the cows represent. I think they represent the female element, but it's not really developed. Notice also it's a boy that is controlling the cows.
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I can understand why Maggie's character would try to distract herself with the peacock. If I were her, I'd be doing it to deaden the emotional impact of the situation I find myself in. I wouldn't want to cry or show more vulnerability, especially to an acquaintance, at what I discover in the contents of a personal love letter from someone else to my husband and patting and cooing at the peacock would sort of remove me from the scene a little.
And I think it shows us something about the situation here. Maggie has more emotion for the peacock than her husband. Do we ever see her give such affection to her husband?
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I don't like how the narrator decides to soften the letter, not because I am adamant that the truth should be stated at all times but because I feel as if there was no reason for him to do so.
That is something I can't figure out yet either. The best I can come up with is that he does not want to fully encounter the emotional situation of him directly telling her the real circumstances. The other possibility is that he does not want to violate a male bond with her husband. None the less the translation event highlights a lack of communication going on through out the story. The lack of communication between Maggie and Alfred is stark; the dishonest communication between the narrator and Maggie is certainly there; the only honest communication occurs between Maggie and the peacock and perhaps Eliza and Alfred, though it's only Eliza.
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I feel that Maggie's character came to him for confirmation of her husband's deceit and betrayal. She already suspects his character and is intuitively certain but she cannot justify the inclination to leave him if that suspicion is not substantiated. So the narrator does her a great injustice by lying to her. Worse, he believes it is to save her feelings but she already suspects, even already knows the content of the letter, so his action is useless and does not contribute at all to the situation. He is doing something for the sake of his idea of what is honourable and noble, stemmed from a feeling of pity for the woman, but devoid of a righteous compassion for Maggie's character. He is softening the letter because he is misplacing Maggie with the idea of her. She is only a general case to him, not a real person. The general case is the the woman would be distressed to discover such a deceitful truth, the real person is a woman who is all too knowledgeable about the actual character of her husband. Again, I am amazed at Lawrence's skill in showing this displacement very well.
No I tend to disagree. I think he's doing it in male solidarity with Alfred. And I do think the dishonest communication is very central to the story's theme.
Quote:
Originally Posted by
Emmy Castrol
I've been having trouble finding 'The White Peacock' in stores; the general level of Australian bookstores is quite poor and they seem to have endless copies of Lady Chattterley's Lover and Sons and Lovers.
Thanks so much, Janine, for welcoming me to this thread. I am having an absolutely wonderful time and I'm grateful for the internet and its advancements in uniting me with the handful of DH Lawrence lovers who happen to be on the other side of the world. The times before the DH Lawrence short stories thread were very lonely for me indeed.
well, that's great Emmy. I'm not sure if i've welcomed you. Welcome to lit net and to the Lawrence club here. :)
Quote:
Originally Posted by
Janine
I think you [Dark Muse] hit on something vital before, when you said that Maggie didn't have any children and yet here, she knows of this letter, in which her husband has supposidly fathered a child, in another country, by a younger woman. Both those factors, have to make a woman feel even more threatened and more vulnerable; even more unsure of herself and her place in life.
No question, the contrast between Eliza having a baby and Maggie being childless is very significant. There is so much in this story that one can consider a wasteland: the winter setting, the barren woman, the lack of love, the lack of communication, animals that are unnatural to the environment (peacocks in England?), lies and infidelity, the lack of honest emotional response.
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It's like she is a witch or unworldly creature of the earth, casting a sort of spell over him. He is wary all along. I think this is why he so often mentions her as 'witch-like'. I think the narrator (Lawrence) fears her in someway. He fears her female dominance.
Not sure about fear, though that's possible, but certainly resents it, certainly disdains it.
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This notion runs through many of Lawrence's stories. He did have an extreme fear of female dominance, which stemmed from his own mother's overbearing way with his father. In this case, there is again Lawernce's 'duality' being revealed. He wants to empathise with the woman and yet something inside him fears her. This may be why he doesn't reveal the whole truth when he is reading the letter. He remarked, just prior to reading it, that:
I don't agree with that last sentence, but I do think Lawrence in general did fear female dominance.
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So to me by now, her female, earthy witch-like spell has worked and egged him on to read the letter to her; she has successfully conjoled him. By this last line, he felt quite powerless to refuse her. He has gone too far in his mind, to turn back; his judgement was impaired, to some degree, by all the soft witchy conniving and the rolling and sulky dark eyes. He seemed quite taken with her eyes and the witch quality, this seemed to keep him curious; like when one looks at something quite frightening or horrid and still can't take one's eyes from the subject.
Perhaps that's why he tells her as much as he does, but i still think he's trying to not violate another man's privacy.
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Yes indeed, there does seem to be something curious and ambiguous about her past. But, did she mean the farm was better or worse, smaller or larger? If her former home was better, then why did she marry into a poorer state? This might bring up the question, was she tricked into this life she now leads. Was her husband Alfred charming back then; turned cruel to her now; or if the truth were known in their private lives, did she try to dominate him and this is why he sought comfort elsewhere? We really do not know of their intimate relationship. We know of one prominent statement, that the narrator makes
"with that momentary humility which makes a man lord of the earth."
Lord of the earth is a proud peacock. ;)
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I noticed this, too; but "not having a place of her own" throws me off. Does she indicate a place for both she and her husband, but used the her own simply as a figure of speech? Maybe, Maggie does resent the fact they are stuck there, without a farm or a place of their own. Perhaps, Alfred is lazy and unmotivated and has no desire to part with living with his parents. In that case, I could feel even more sorry for Maggie, stuck in this situation; although, it might be worse to live alone with Alfred.
More wasteland.
Quote:
Originally Posted by
jinjang
That is an excellent point, Dark Muse. Now let us add the adjective “wintry” to peacock.
The Marriam-Webster Online gave me the second meaning of the adjective:
2 a: weathered by or as if by winter : aged, hoary b: cheerless, chilling
Oxford American Dictionary gave me the meaning: chilly, lacking warmth or vivacity
Two-volume short Oxford Dictionary: Devoid of fervor or affection; dismal, dreary, cheerless.
I skipped the first meaning, thinking Lawrence did not possibly mean the first meaning “of relating to winter.” Did someone mention peacocks are not English birds; hence, it is out of place? The cheerless out-of-placed bird interposes the reconciliation between Maggie and Alfred. While in the war, he got weak and now he wants to get back to Maggie. I consider the war, his age, his good looks, and his libido. Alfred may have been between 18 and 22 years old when he joined the war. Maggie determined to drag drearily on the issue of infidelity.
Very good observation in there Jin. I think it fits with what I've been saying about a wasteland and unnatural situation.
I think you guys passed up discussing the central part of the quoted passage. Here:
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'And is your husband at home?'
'I expect him home tonight. He's been wounded, you know, and we've been applying for him home. He was home about six weeks ago--he's been in Scotland since then. Oh, he was wounded in the leg. Yes, he's all right, a great strapping fellow. But he's lame, he limps a bit. He expects he'll get his discharge--but I don't think he will. We married? We've been married six years--and he joined up the first day of the war. Oh, he thought he'd like the life. He'd been through the South African War. No, he was sick of it, fed up. I'm living with his father and mother--I've no home of my own now. My people had a big farm--over a thousand acres--in Oxfordshire. Not like here--no. Oh, they're very good to me, his father and mother. Oh, yes, they couldn't be better. They think more of me than of their own daughters. But it's not like being in a place of your own, is it? You can't really do as you like. No, there's only me and his father and mother at home. Before the war? Oh, he was anything. He's had a good education--but he liked the farming better. Then he was a chauffeur. That's how he knew French. He was driving a gentleman in France for a long time--'
At this point the peacocks came round the corner on a puff of wind.
'Hello, Joey!' she called, and one of the birds came forward, on delicate legs. Its grey speckled back was very elegant, it rolled its full, dark-blue neck as it moved to her. She crouched down. 'Joey, dear,' she said, in an odd, saturnine caressive voice, 'you're bound to find me, aren't you?' She put her face forward, and the bird rolled his neck, almost touching her face with his beak, as if kissing her.
'He loves you,' I said. She twisted her face up at me with a laugh.
'Yes,' she said, 'he loves me, Joey does,'--then, to the bird--'and I love Joey, don't I. I do love Joey.' And she smoothed his feathers for a moment. Then she rose, saying: 'He's an affectionate bird.' I smiled at the roll of her 'bir-rrd'. 'Oh, yes, he is,' she protested. 'He came with me from my home seven years ago. Those others are his descendants--but they're not like Joey--are they, dee-urr?' Her voice rose at the end with a witch-like cry.
There's a lot there to highlight. First, Alfred is wounded in the leg and now limps. It was quite common in post WWI literature to have the soldier return with a wounded leg, suggesting the emasculation from the war experience. TS Eliot's The Wasteland and Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises are examples. It suggests a lack of virileness. This is a story about the ramifications of the war. Alfred has been gone to be a soldier from the first day of their marriage, he has been wounded, while away to the war he's fathered a child, and now has run off from that responsibility. The woman has lost her farm and land and is now dependant on her husband's family. The only emotional connection is the unnatural love between Maggie and Joey. Notice too the bird has "delicate legs," connecting him to Alfred in a strange way. The bird is a sublimated object for the love Maggie should have for her husband. The war has caused a very unnatural situation, unnatural lives.
I think I'm caught up now. :)
