And I do not belive anything excuces infidelity.
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And I do not belive anything excuces infidelity.
As jingang said "I have nothing more to say upon the issue as we shall eternally disagree."...so why can't all of this cease? I don't think any one of us are here to pass moral judgement on anyone and as far as our own personal beliefs are concerned, that is up to the individual who is posting; his private affair. As the bible says "Let those without sin cast the first stone". I would rather refrain from casting any stones myself. I just want to proceed with actually discussing this story and the text.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
Fictional characters are there to be judged
But, is that the main objective of discussing this story? It's odd because in "The Awakening" discussion, if I read you correctly, you were not opposed to Edna and her moral code, but here you are so against the characters. I am rather miffed myself at this point. We have been discussing some important characteristics of the story today and yesterday as well, but you haven't commented on one of those aspects, just the morality of Alfred. There are many immoral characters in literature. Look at Anna in Anna Karenina; look at many a husband in novels who strayed. I am not sure what point you are trying to make in continuing to disagree with others, who said they would rather refrain from further discussing it; and striking out at the moral fiber of any of the characters in this story just seems pointless to me and tiresome at this time. Also, I have been told by others, simply reading along with this thread that it's distracting to the main focus of discussing this story.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
I am not one to keep my opinons restrained, after my initail purge toward the beginning I had let the issue drop, it is others who have continued to bring it up again and I have simply responded to thier own comments.
While I naturally personally like Maggie I agree that for Lawrence she was likely not intended to be a sympathetic character. As well he rarely does portray his women in a very positive light within his stories, and much of the imagery surrounding Maggie in the descriptions of her can be seen as having a negative connotation to them.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
More than once throughout the text she is referred to being "wtichy" or "witch-like"
There is also the fact that at the beginning when she first wishes to have the letter read to her, she does come off as being flirtatious in her efforts to try and cajole the narrator to read the letter to her. And her demeanor during the reading of the letter seems to be scornful and mocking.
She does not appear outwardly broken up about the news. Even though she strongly suspects Alfred, she takes it in a more callous way, laughing at points during the reading, which I imagine was in a bitter and malicious way.
Cheers to Dark Muse for her tenacious spirit!
Please Janine, you have been a great pilot of this discussion. I am sure you will land us safely to the runway. I would like to reach our destination even if it has been a little a bumpy ride.
I am still quite puzzled on the narrator's intention. When a man knows he is being cajoled, does he feel flattered or does he feel alert against the person cajoling him? The answer to this question may prove or disprove Virgil's claim below.
Do men or the author really felt that the men have to get the control back as they want the remote control?Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
Maybe we should move on to the next part of the text... to learn more.
In trying to discover the narrators intention I think that it is telling than when he finished reading the letter his first thought is to pass a judgement on Maggie rather than Alfred, he never expresses any thoughts of disapproval about Alfred but he interrogates Maggie on how she happened to come by the letter and scolds her for her going behind her husband's back, while seeming to be apathetic to Alfred's betrayal.
Quote:
"Where did you get this letter?" I said.
"Postman gave it me last week."
"And is your husband at home?"
Quote:
"Won't you read that letter?" she said. "Read it, so that I know what
it says."
"It's rather behind his back," I said.
Dark Muse, I still think you are being very harsh on the narrator. He is defending something, a human privacy and basic right, that nowdays is actually a federal offense and punishable by law; referring to reading mail addressed to another person, be it her husband or anyone, for that matter. In the parts you quoted he asked who the letter was addressed to and I would do the same before consenting to reading any letter. Second, he says "it is rather behind his back". He used 'rather' and it shows he is ambivalent about proceeding to read this letter. He is a little wishy-washy here using that word, because at this point, he is not yet made up his mind to read the letter to Maggie. He could have kept what he read to himself, once he has read it silently. He also is not aware at that point that Maggie will tell him she knows the opposite and that the child is her husbands, nor does he know she will scoff at it or even laugh. The narrator in the beginning is quite in the dark. I think this is why Lawrence chose to present this story in 3rd person narration. We encounter the various impressions and feelings as he would, as he went along, in a sense 'playing it by ear', as the expression goes.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
jinjang, I like this part of your statement, "a great pilot of this discussion. I am sure you will land us safely to the runway." I will do my best to get us safely to the runway....I somehow have managed it before. Thanks for the compliment.......hhaha...then I may be the hero, not Joey..haha...Are we having fun yet?
Yes, I wish to post more text to discuss; hopefully I can do that tonight. My home situation is problematic at this time, plus I have to go out to a meeting, be there at 6. I will be home after 10 EST. I stay up late so I will post more text then. I'd do it now but I don't have the time.
That parts I quoted happend after he read the letter and knew the contents. He readily read it without a thought and knew from her that it was too her husband.
This was before he read that letter:
He then reads the letter after she told hin that it was a letter to her husband.Quote:
"Would you mind reading a letter for me, in French?" she said, her face
immediately black and bitter-looking. She glanced at me, frowning.
"Not at all," I said.
"It's a letter to my husband," she said, still scrutinising.
And once he finnished already reading it, he than began to question her on it. He had no problem reading someones priavte words for himself, he only questioned it when she than wanted to know what it said.
When he first started reading the letter he said:
By saying he read it with a callous heart seems to suggest while reading it he was not mortally conflicted in the invasation of privacy.Quote:
Therefore I read with a callous heart the effusions of the Belgian
damsel.
This proves how different our perceptions and interpretations are. The narrator later on interrogates Alfred just as much. I may be risking going ahead of the discussion. The exact same quotes you listed made me think that the narrator is hesitant and uncomfortable of intruding, even though he is being asked, in their privacy. Since the whole story is of 15 pages, I reread it. My impression on the good intention of the narrator has not changed.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
A respectable author is a sagacious and indifferent observer of human lives. The narrator is in place of the author in this story, I believe, who happens to be entangled in the story involuntarily.
"Nothing more trite and vulgar in the world, than such a love letter - no newspaper more obvious.
Therefore, I read with a callous heart the effusions of the Belgian damsel. But then I gathered my attention."
I think his "callous" heart is toward to the letter and Elise, not to Maggie. But, he softens, as he "gathers his attention," to the letter writer since Elise is also an unhappy girl as he figures out in the letter.
The only difference I observed this time is that the narrator can understand Alfred quickly as of the same gender, while Maggie remains mysterious and impossible for him to comprehend.
Good thoughts jinjang...
I do not see him as interrogating Alfred, but rather reassuring Alfred. He tells Alfred more or less that is "secert" is safe, that he did not reveal the truth to Maggie, but he does not in fact pass any judgement against Alfred, nor does he make any mention of Alfred going behind Maggie's back the way in which he suggests that Maggie went behind his.
Oh... I may have to be ahead a little bit.
"What about the other woman?" I asked.
"Who?"
"Elise."
"Oh" - he shifted uneasily - "she was all right-"
"You'll be getting back to her," I said...
He looked at me. Then he made a grimace with his mouth."
He asked series of questions...possibly more to Alfred than to Maggie.
First of all though it was Alfred who first apporached and questioned him, and I do not see anything critial in anything the narrator says, rather it seems more just like a couple of guys chewing the fat as it were.
Welcome back!Quote:
Originally Posted by BienvenuJDC
That is precisely why we should wait until we get to that part of the story so that I can read everyone's point of view and, then, I may sway to one or the other side.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
You are the one who first brought the ending up.Quote:
Originally Posted by jinjang
I just think that if the narrator was truly morally concerned with the issue of invading their privacy than when Maggie first handed him the letter and pretty much told him to read her a letter that was addressed to her husband, he would have questioned it before he even began to read.
But it was not until he became aware of the contents inside the letter that he than began to scrutinize Maggie about it, but he knew from the start that he was reading a letter that was not intended for her.
I differ on that with you because he consented to read the letter before he was aware of what he is reading. He thought he was helping Maggie with French.
If he flatly refused to read it, then there would have been no story for us to discuss or argue. :) His initial involuntary and hesitant involvement into the couple's life does not negate his good intention, though, with curiosity of an author.
You lack a sense of humor!
Perhaps he prematurely says yes to her request, but she does tell him that the letter is for her husband before he acutally starts to read it.
Quote:
"Would you mind reading a letter for me, in French?" she said, her face
immediately black and bitter-looking. She glanced at me, frowning.
"Not at all," I said.
"It's a letter to my husband," she said, still scrutinising.
I don't think that I will continue with this thread. There is way to much arguing and not enough discussing. We need to respect one another's comments.
Me and jinjang were just entertaining ourselves untill the next portion of the story is posted, and I do not think she feels I am being disrespectful simply becasue I disagree with what she says.
I looked England's annual snowfall and while a snowstorm like this can happen, it is rare. Mostly England gets less then ten inches of total snaow for the year.Quote:
Originally Posted by jinjang
Well, I'm human. :D I read the story rather quickly I admit. I have read it again since and probably need at least one more reading.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Janine, can you look up when and where this story was written. You have that book.Quote:
This was the period in which he and Frieda were driven out of Cornwall because the English police thought they were involved in spying for the German side...
Definitely.Quote:
Snow and frozen land always represented to Lawrence the negation of life and of death - think back to our discussion on 'The Man Who Loved Islands'. Also, the final scenes in WIL. Think how Lawrence gravitated towards the south and the sun and it's life giving forces - think of our discussion on 'Sun'.
I don't know if the narrator remains neutral, but I agree he is not sympathetic toward anyone. He does take a character's point of view here and there, but I can't find anyone but the older folk sympathetic.Quote:
No, you have me wrong. I don't think he is totally sympathetic to anyone really, not for any duration of time. I think he is temporarily sympathetic to each at different junctures in the story. I think basically, the narrator remains neutral at the end.
Janine I have to find the essays. He didn't blame them for starting the war, but for how life evolved afterward. These were non-fiction essays, so he is quite catagorical.Quote:
I don't believe Lawrence blames women for the war. Where are you getting that from, Virgil? If you look at WIL and realise that's also a war novel, war themes throughout and in the background (subtext), tell me how women in general are responsible for the war?
[QUOTE=Dark Muse;714894While I naturally personally like Maggie I agree that for Lawrence she was likely not intended to be a sympathetic character. As well he rarely does portray his women in a very positive light within his stories, and much of the imagery surrounding Maggie in the descriptions of her can be seen as having a negative connotation to them.
[/QUOTE]
Yes, though I think I was a little harsh on Maggie. In my second reading I do think this is the type of woman that Lawrence blames. She seems to be a victum of the war circumstances.
that is not necessarily a bad thing for Lawrence. Lawrence is quite pagan D-M. I think you would like some of his later stuff where he fully develops those ideas. This is not one of his later stories so it's not clear here how to take his witchy comments.Quote:
More than once throughout the text she is referred to being "wtichy" or "witch-like"
In my second reading I think she came across as holding back the anger. While it's a little strange, I don't think it's as unusuall as I first thought.Quote:
There is also the fact that at the beginning when she first wishes to have the letter read to her, she does come off as being flirtatious in her efforts to try and cajole the narrator to read the letter to her. And her demeanor during the reading of the letter seems to be scornful and mocking.
She does not appear outwardly broken up about the news. Even though she strongly suspects Alfred, she takes it in a more callous way, laughing at points during the reading, which I imagine was in a bitter and malicious way.
First off, I have read all posts from tonight, think that was about 2 pages. I have to say I still agree with jinjang and with Bienvenu on some of the finer points about the letter. I don't wish to argue further on those points; it's rather meaningless, if we all have a different opinion anyway. I hope now we can move on with the story. I have been getting together the next part of the text, which is nearly ready to post. First though, I wish to answer your post, Virgil.
Interesting, but was that before 'global warming'? :lol: I don't really want to go there, V.;) or we will have another contravesy... Ok, lets put it this way; was that the average snowfall in England in the year this story took place, say 1917?Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
Get out, Virgil, are you really 'human'; I thought you a Roman god all this time. Ok then, you are forgiven and possibly by a third reading, you will change your mind a dozen times. I read this story so many times now, I am even a bit confused. It is short enough to read several times over.Quote:
Well, I'm human. :D I read the story rather quickly I admit. I have read it again since and probably need at least one more reading.
Yes, I have that book; but it revealed very little about this story, nothing at all significant. I will look through it and some others I have; to see if I can dig anymore up. If you had read my introduction, my dear friend, it does give a bit of the background of where Lawrence and Frieda were living at the time. Here I am reposting that for your benefit:Quote:
Janine, can you look up when and where this story was written. You have that book.
Two entries from Wikipedia
Note: he had nearly died of influenza that winter.Quote:
In late 1917, after constant harassment by the military authorities, Lawrence was forced to leave Cornwall at three days' notice under the terms of the Defence of the Realm Act (DORA). This persecution was later described in an autobiographical chapter of his Australian novel Kangaroo, published in 1923. He spent some months in early 1918 in the small, rural village of Hermitage near Newbury, Berkshire. He then lived for just under a year (mid-1918 to early 1919) at Mountain Cottage, Middleton-by-Wirksworth, Derbyshire, where he wrote one of his most poetic short stories, The Wintry Peacock. Until 1919 he was compelled by poverty to shift from address to address and barely survived a severe attack of influenza.
One of D. H. Lawrence's houses (Mountain Cottage), in which he lived
with Frieda in 1918-19, stands below the B5023 road on the outskirts of
Middleton-by-Wirksworth, approximately 1.5 mile NW of Wirksworth. Lawrence also reputedly spent a lot of time at Woodland Cottage on the opposite side of New Road. While staying in Middleton in the bitter winter of 1918-19, Lawrence wrote the short story A Wintry Peacock (published 1921).
Yes, I thought you would agree about that.Quote:
Definitely.
I agree with this. His veiw point also seems to sometimes fluctuate during the story; at least, to me. In some ways, we are living the experience sequencially, as the narrator is taking us through his own experience.Quote:
I don't know if the narrator remains neutral, but I agree he is not sympathetic toward anyone. He does take a character's point of view here and there, but I can't find anyone but the older folk sympathetic.
Right, I don't think you worded that last post of yours clearly concerning this matter; it will be more interesting to read the actual essays.Quote:
Janine I have to find the essays. He didn't blame them for starting the war, but for how life evolved afterward. These were non-fiction essays, so he is quite catagorical.
This is curious and may be significant. Today I looked on the back cover of my paperback of a small collection of L's short stories "England, My England", which happens to contain this story, "Wintry Peacock". On back cover:
Note: the first reference is to the individual story 'England, My England' in the England, My England short story collection.Quote:
The hero of England, My England stands for a whole social ethos, whose decline Lawrence pinpoints with bitter precision.
The other stories in this collection are concerned with outward alliances and inner compulsions. And in the dialogue of reason and the unconscious it is the dark forces whose call is the most insistent...
The second paragraph refers to the choice of these particular stories, of which 'Wintry Peacock' is included.
Now which is it; you were too harsh or she is to be blamed? This statement of yours doesn't really seem to be consistent or am I missing something? In conclusion then, you do see Maggie as a war victim?Quote:
Yes, though I think I was a little harsh on Maggie. In my second reading I do think this is the type of woman that Lawrence blames. She seems to be a victum of the war circumstances.
How true that is. He most certainly did like the 'witch' aspects of a woman physically speaking, the dark eyes are always so prominent, reminescent of Miriam's (Jesse Chamber's) eyes, I think. This is quite odd; I have been trying to read all the rest of the L stories I have not read, so today I was reading out of volume III and such a strange 'late' story, Virgil; have your ever read 'The Last Laugh'? I might urge you to read it, so you can explain it to me. This one was truly modern and rather otherworldly. It's definitely one I have to read a number of times, before I get any clearcut ideas on it. It's the most bizzare Lawrence I have read so far.Quote:
that is not necessarily a bad thing for Lawrence. Lawrence is quite pagan D-M. I think you would like some of his later stuff where he fully develops those ideas. This is not one of his later stories so it's not clear here how to take his witchy comments.
I felt that way and I have read the story about four times now. I felt she restrained herself, but the anger was right below the surface, with a lot of tension there, ready to errupt at any given time.Quote:
In my second reading I think she came across as holding back the anger. While it's a little strange, I don't think it's as unusuall as I first thought.
After you answer this one, I will post next part of the text.
No, a terrible typo. I forgot the "not" in the second sentence. I meant to say, "In my second reading I do think this is not the type of woman that Lawrence blames."Quote:
Yes, though I think I was a little harsh on Maggie. In my second reading I do think this is the type of woman that Lawrence blames. She seems to be a victum of the war circumstances.
I don't remember it. But laughing seems to be very important in this story. Maggie's laugh during the reading of the letter, and the narrator's laugh at the very end of the story.Quote:
Originally Posted by Janine
Ambiguity is at the core of the story. Lawrence, may he rest in peace!
If he read this thread of our discussions, I am sure he would laugh out loud because his Rorschach inkblot test is successful with us.
Anybody can pick a quote in order to direct the argument in their advantage.
Virgil, I am posting this part of the post but hope you note my previous post which answers/comments on yours.
NEXT PART OF THE TEXT:
Now the text with my highlighting:Quote:
In the faint glow of the half-clear light that came about four o'clock in the afternoon, I was roused to see a motion in the snow away below, near where the thorn trees stood very black and dwarfed, like a little savage group, in the dismal white. I watched closely. Yes, there was a flapping and a struggle--a big bird, it must be, labouring in the snow. I wondered. Our biggest birds, in the valley, were the large hawks that often hung flickering opposite my windows, level with me, but high above some prey on the steep valleyside. This was much too big for a hawk--too big for any known bird. I searched in my mind for the largest English wild birds, geese, buzzards.
Still it laboured and strove, then was still, a dark spot, then struggled again. I went out of the house and down the steep slope, at risk of breaking my leg between the rocks. I knew the ground so well--and yet I got well shaken before I drew near the thorn-trees.
Yes, it was a bird. It was Joey. It was the grey-brown peacock with a blue neck. He was snow-wet and spent. 'Joey--Joey, de-urr!' I said, staggering unevenly towards him. He looked so pathetic, rowing and struggling in the snow, too spent to rise, his blue neck stretching out and lying sometimes on the snow, his eye closing and opening quickly, his crest all battered.
'Joey dee-uur! Dee-urr!' I said caressingly to him. And at last he lay still, blinking, in the surged and furrowed snow, whilst I came near and touched him, stroked him, gathered him under my arm. He stretched his long, wetted neck away from me as I held him, none the less he was quiet in my arm, too tired, perhaps, to struggle. Still he held his poor, crested head away from me, and seemed sometimes to droop, to wilt, as if he might suddenly die.
He was not so heavy as I expected, yet it was a struggle to get up to the house with him again. We set him down, not too near the fire, and gently wiped him with cloths. He submitted, only now and then stretched his soft neck away from us, avoiding us helplessly. Then we set warm food by him. I put it to his beak, tried to make him eat. But he ignored it. He seemed to be ignorant of what we were doing, recoiled inside himself inexplicably. So we put him in a basket with cloths, and left him crouching oblivious. His food we put near him. The blinds were drawn, the house was warm, it was night. Sometimes he stirred, but mostly he huddled still, leaning his queer crested head on one side. He touched no food, and took no heed of sounds or movements. We talked of brandy or stimulants. But I realized we had best leave him alone.
In the night, however, we heard him thumping about. I got up anxiously with a candle. He had eaten some food, and scattered more, making a mess. And he was perched on the back of a heavy arm-chair. So I concluded he was recovered, or recovering.
One thing, I noticed right away in this section is the repetition of the word 'struggle' or 'struggling' and other words similar in meaning, which are sprinkled throughout this bit of text emphasising the state the bird is going through in order to live. It perhaps also mimics the struggle of the husband and wife to preserve their fragile marriage. I think asside from this, it suggests on a larger scope, the struggle of war. As the narrator, recues this dark form, first unknown to him, in the snow, this scene might be reminescent of rescuing a fellow soldier on a battlefield. I noticed that the narrator puts himself into some serious peril to rescue the poor dying bird. I think, knowing also, how Lawrence, himself, had just narrowly escaped death and the eternal darkness is significant; this rescue of the bird is majorly symbolic in many ways. He longs to now rescue poor Joey; Joey takes on almost human characteristic of a dying or near dying man and I think this significance. The words I bolded up are only some of the words/phrases in this passage that suggest much more to me than just merely saving a peacock from his imminent death in the frozen snowfield.Quote:
In the faint glow of the half-clear light that came about four o'clock in the afternoon, I was roused to see a motion in the snow away below, near where the thorn trees stood very black and dwarfed, like a little savage group, in the dismal white. I watched closely. Yes, there was a flapping and a struggle--a big bird, it must be, labouring in the snow. I wondered. Our biggest birds, in the valley, were the large hawks that often hung flickering opposite my windows, level with me, but high above some prey on the steep valleyside. This was much too big for a hawk--too big for any known bird. I searched in my mind for the largest English wild birds, geese, buzzards.
Still it laboured and strove, then was still, a dark spot, then struggled again. I went out of the house and down the steep slope, at risk of breaking my leg between the rocks. I knew the ground so well--and yet I got well shaken before I drew near the thorn-trees.
Yes, it was a bird. It was Joey. It was the grey-brown peacock with a blue neck. He was snow-wet and spent.
'Joey--Joey, de-urr!' I said, staggering unevenly towards him. He looked so pathetic, rowing and struggling in the snow, too spent to rise, his blue neck stretching out and lying sometimes on the snow, his eye closing and opening quickly, his crest all battered.
'Joey dee-uur! Dee-urr!' I said caressingly to him. And at last he lay still, blinking, in the surged and furrowed snow, whilst I came near and touched him, stroked him, gathered him under my arm. He stretched his long, wetted neck away from me as I held him, none the less he was quiet in my arm, too tired, perhaps, to struggle. Still he held his poor, crested head away from me, and seemed sometimes to droop, to wilt, as if he might suddenly die.
He was not so heavy as I expected, yet it was [b]a struggle[b] to get up to the house with him again. We set him down, not too near the fire, and gently wiped him with cloths. He submitted, only now and then stretched his soft neck away from us, avoiding us helplessly. Then we set warm food by him. I put it to his beak, tried to make him eat. But he ignored it. He seemed to be ignorant of what we were doing, recoiled inside himself inexplicably. So we put him in a basket with cloths, and left him crouching oblivious. His food we put near him. The blinds were drawn, the house was warm, it was night. Sometimes he stirred, but mostly he huddled still, leaning his queer crested head on one side. He touched no food, and took no heed of sounds or movements. We talked of brandy or stimulants. But I realized we had best leave him alone.
In the night, however, we heard him thumping about. I got up anxiously with a candle. He had eaten some food, and scattered more, making a mess. And he was perched on the back of a heavy arm-chair. So I concluded he was recovered, or recovering.
I have piles of work to do, but let me postpone it a little while.
What kind of tree is the thorn tree? Acacia on a rocky hill does not fit somehow so it must be a different kind of thorn tree. I liked the term savage applied to a thorn tree. I feel savage at the moment.Quote:
where the thorn trees stood very black and dwarfed, like a little savage group, in the dismal white.
I just checked the landscape of Mountain Cottage, Middleton-by-Wirksworth, Derbyshire, where he wrote the story. I remember the big boulder where Elizabeth Bennett stood on, touring Derbyshire in a BBC adoption of Pride and Prejudice. It was a breathtaking place with grand sceneries.Quote:
Still it laboured and strove, then was still, a dark spot, then struggled again. I went out of the house and down the steep slope, at risk of breaking my leg between the rocks. I knew the ground so well--and yet I got well shaken before I drew near the thorn-trees.
The narrator called Joey in the same way as Maggie. He did sympathize with Maggie and felt sorry for her struggle to overcome her emotion. Wintry peacock is still a proud male ego? We should revisit the meaning of Wintry Peacock.Quote:
'Joey--Joey, de-urr!'
Maggie, though laughing, went through despair and immersed in her distress. Anybody’s emotional stress can magnify itself in the person and cannot be lightly treated. There were many signs of her face in the beginning of the story: grimace, brood, sallow, red nose, misfit-laughing, etc. I can imagine Maggie “droop, wilt as if she might suddenly die.” Who wouldn’t feel sympathy?Quote:
Still he held his poor, crested head away from me, and seemed sometimes to droop, to wilt, as if he might suddenly die.
Janine chose the good phrases: “avoiding us helplessly, recoiled inside himself inexplicably, crouching oblivious.” I am not sure what it signifies. A suffering person seeks denial and solitude, sometimes, induced by his or her pride.
Do people likely seek solitude or human contacts in emotional termoil? I seek solitude.
It could be a Hawthorn TreeQuote:
Originally Posted by jinjang
I do not think his mimicking her speech is proof enough that he is being sympathetic to her. It could instead be done as a form of mockery. Or perhaps simply because seeing the bird made him think of the way she spoke, but it really does not suggest any particular emotion on his behalf toward Maggie and her situation.Quote:
Originally Posted by jinjang
In view of looking at the story as having a connection to the war, and the hardships and struggles which war cased, this depiction of Joey fallen and pathetic in the snow with his batter crest, and his eyes starting to close could reflect the image of a wounded solider.Quote:
He looked so pathetic, rowing and struggling in the snow, too spent to rise, his blue neck stretching out and lying sometimes on the snow, his eye closing and opening quickly, his crest all battered.
But the mention of the bright color of his blue next, and the battered crest (a symbol of the birds maleness, as well in addition to its colors the crest is also a device used to attract females) could suggest faltering state of the male ego, and going back to the discussing of Lawrence's stance on male vs female, and his view of the proper roles for men and women, and the dangers of female power, it could reflect the state of men when women have taken on a dominant role. While there is debate about what Maggie is really feeling in the revelation of Alfred's affair, and if she is properly anger, or does not display anger, or has repressed anger, she does not at any rate appear to be a weak woman, she does come off as rather forward and strong-willed.
A very good point! But, you will not make me dislike the narrator. Alfred? I have to see how he looks in real. The narrator describes him as handsome, but he is a man. What does he know what attracts a woman? I know it is irrelevant to the story. If men are vain in women's look, why not we women?Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
It is late at night and I am quite spent this evening...I am going to bed...
Alfred is slightly better looking than myself...but that really is not much of a compliment.Quote:
Originally Posted by jinjang
My point was not about Alfred's physical apperance, but just pointing out how the crest of the bird is mentioned in this story and how the crest directly indicates "maleness" and the "male pride" and this Joey in this scene reflects ideas of maleness somewhat relating to Virgil's ideas reguarding immpotence.
Going out this afternoon and won't be back until after dinner, early evening; can't be helped. Glad to see everyone posting again. When I get back tonight, I will answer all the posts, if possible. I can't think now under pressure; must get ready to go out, besides I will be late if I do hang around here.
One think I will mention to Dark Muse, it that I pointed out in my prior post the idea of the bird relating to a fallen soldier, wounded. The rescue of possible peril to the wellbeing of the narrator also could be as one soldier risks his life to rescue another from a ominous battlefield.
Other than that, you all had me laughing trying to determine what Alfred looked like physically. I think Alfred might look like Virgil only instead of hugging his dog, substitude the dog for a peacock.:lol: (I hope he reads this...he will laugh).
See you all later!
Hmmm....I bet there are bigger themes to this short story that have nothing to do with with either the narrator, Maggie, or Alfred. I wonder what they are?
:lol:how bout sex and WAR especially!Quote:
Hmmm....I bet there are bigger themes to this short story that have nothing to do with with either the narrator, Maggie, or Alfred. I wonder what they are?
Notice the description of the bird:
"snow-wet," "spent," "too spent to rise," "his eye closing and opening," "crested head," "droop," "wilt," "as if he might suddenly die." :lol:Quote:
Yes, it was a bird. It was Joey. It was the grey-brown peacock with a blue neck. He was snow-wet and spent. 'Joey--Joey, de-urr!' I said, staggering unevenly towards him. He looked so pathetic, rowing and struggling in the snow, too spent to rise, his blue neck stretching out and lying sometimes on the snow, his eye closing and opening quickly, his crest all battered.
'Joey dee-uur! Dee-urr!' I said caressingly to him. And at last he lay still, blinking, in the surged and furrowed snow, whilst I came near and touched him, stroked him, gathered him under my arm. He stretched his long, wetted neck away from me as I held him, none the less he was quiet in my arm, too tired, perhaps, to struggle. Still he held his poor, crested head away from me, and seemed sometimes to droop, to wilt, as if he might suddenly die.
Here is where Lawrence really makes the association of the bird with a phallus. I know, Janine, I always have this on my mind. But Lawrence is always talking about this. The phallus was the central connection to blood consciousness.
hahaha.....as I said....sex and war! :DQuote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
Hey, everyone, afraid I can't comment tonight. I came home a little while ago and I am exhausted. I don't think I can think straight to make any sense tonight. Will have to wait till tomorrow. In the meantime enjoy reading Virgil' phallic ravings. :lol:
I think that making this 'phallic' is going too far. I would compare this to the shape of the war torn Europe. Alfred without doubt would NOT be in this shape...otherwise, there would be no baby...no letter...no story. Impotence was NOT the issue with the childless marriage. Maybe you should look for something OTHER than sex. Sex is a minor undertone....I believe that the social, political, and economic impotence are the real undertones...caused by the WAR!
I have to agree with you. I guess we got carried away kidding around; Virgil tends to like that to use the 'p' word a lot when it comes to discussing Lawrence. If you read my former posts, I thought that whole winter scene very reminescent of the war and even the landscape of the war, such as the trenches and the barbed wire, etc; also the fallen soldier which I felt was the image of the bird struggling in the snow; it's also a analogy of survival of the fittest. The black and white references are significant in that they show the contrast between survival and death. I think if we were to say that Alfred is impotent, it's merely his leg that is lame. That does not prevent a man from fathering a child. I actually know of a case where a young man was layed up with a broken leg, full cast and it did not stop him! Hard to keep a good man down. Hope you all took that the right way. I did mean it literally.Quote:
Originally Posted by BienvenuJDC
As you wish. You are all entitled to your oopinion and reading. I leave you with this:
http://www.kirjasto.sci.fi/dhlawren.htmQuote:
English novelist, story writer, critic, poet and painter, one of the greatest figures in 20th-century English literature. Lawrence saw sex and intuition as ways to undistorted perception of reality and means to respond to the inhumanity of the industrial culture. From Lawrence's doctrines of sexual freedom arose obscenity trials, which had a deep effect on the relationship between literature and society. In 1912 he wrote: "What the blood feels, and believes, and says, is always true." Lawrence's life after World War I was marked with continuous and restless wandering.
I've add the bold for emphasis. I do not think there is much in Lawrence's works that does not refer to sex in some way.
Even though this may be true of Lawrence, it just doesn't fit in this story. To try to apply it forces it and makes it unrealistic. I won't say that you're wrong. I can see the symbolism in the wording, but it does not fit with the story overall. What men are mentioned in the story: the narrator, Alfred, and Alfred's father. Help me to see it by answering these questions:
How does the impotence theme fit as being applied to the narrator?
How does the impotence theme fit as being applied to Alfred?
How does the impotence theme fit as being applied to Alfred's father?
What other men might I have missed that this could apply to?
On the other hand, we could very well apply this to OTHER aspects of Alfred's manhood. I don't see Alfred as being one to be able to manage the family farm. Not only is he lame, but he doesn't show the attributes of responsibility. But if we are talking about Alfred's deficiency in these areas, then it would not really be accurate describing this as a phallic symbol...(or anti-phallic as it may be).