Sons and Lovers

[Virgil]

Yes, Janine, we have read Lawrence's essay on Hardy and Dostoevsky in our university class, and I must admit that this was my "initiation" to the Lawrence's world. The way his insight touched sensitive spots of those versatile and "sensitive" writers made me love him and all his works. The essays reveal his true, deep love for Literature with a capital "L", as we say in Greece, and makes someone admire the genious in the man, not only the author.

That is amazing. I'm surprised that students were given Lawrence's critcism to read. His criticism is not highly regarded by critics. It is nteresting criticism, but it is not objective criticism. It really reflects his ideas rather than the authors. But it does show his love of literature. We see from his criticism who his major infleuences are. Thomas Hardy in fiction and Walt Whitman in poetry. He did like Herman Melville too, but I don't think he was able to use him in any way. At least as far as I can tell. I do think he was somewhat infleuenced by the Russian writers.

[Janine]

i have to disagree on" the stayig for the sake of the children "part ,i wish that my parents would get a divorce sometimes but i really dont want it to happen i guess the scars will be deeper if they did-not that they are not deep now ,am not thinking of ever getting married-but i guess it'll be much worse if they they get a divorce .
that's also what made me go on with the book the first part of the story was so personal for me .....

Hi stella, I only just saw your posting, I am sorry for delaying in a response. I don't know which is worse, but I can tell you that I have a son and it never easy either way and - not easy for anyone with parents living appart and divorced; but, I think my son suffers less from the scars of that experience, than my sisters and I did, growing up in a virtual 'war zone' atmosphere. No one wants to see parents separate or divorce, but sometimes it is the best thing for everyone concerned in the long run. I feel badly for you, and if you are an only child, I can imagine how you feel. I hope that your own parents can iron out their differences and live more peacably together.
It is sad that you think never to marry. You may change your mind in the future if you meet the right person. Life evolves and attitudes do change sometimes. So never say 'never'.

That is amazing. I'm surprised that students were given Lawrence's critcism to read. His criticism is not highly regarded by critics. It is nteresting criticism, but it is not objective criticism. It really reflects his ideas rather than the authors. But it does show his love of literature. We see from his criticism who his major infleuences are. Thomas Hardy in fiction and Walt Whitman in poetry. He did like Herman Melville too, but I don't think he was able to use him in any way. At least as far as I can tell. I do think he was somewhat infleuenced by the Russian writers.

Seriously, I was thinking the same thing when I first read amalia's post. I think you have stated that well, Virgil. That is a good assessment of Lawrence and his critical reviews, love of literature, influences from the writers you mentioned.

This information is for everyone.

"Sons and Lovers" ~ Casebook Series ~ D.H.Lawrence ~ A Selection of Critical Essays Edited by Gamini Salgado

This is a fine and very helpful book. I wanted to mention it, since you might be able to secure it at your library. I first found it there in my library in my city and I liked it so much I bought it (used) from Amazon. It is probably out of print, by now, but is quite an aid to studying the book, S&L.

[manolia]

Manolia,
I thought you knew the novel was quite autobiographical and based on real people in L's life; his parents, friends and girlfriends, etc. Actually all of his novels are based, in part, on real people he knew. I cannot really think of one that is not, but Virgil may disagree with that. There is tons of research to wade through on this idea/subject. Some of the biography books I own have photos and it will say beneath the photo what character this (real life) person related to. I find this totally fascinating, but unfortunately, the real life people did not always find it so and took Lawrence quite literally even though he changed the characters for his own individual artistic expression. Many of his former friends/acquaintances dropped him like a hot potato; you can imagine! Oh yes, Lawrence made tons of friends and many people loved him intensely, but he also made many an enemy in his short lifetime.

Yes i knew that some of the characters were based on real people but i was regarding the book as a work of fiction mostly..something like WIL..but it seems that in this book (S&L) all the characters are based on real people and most of the events are based on true events.

I think that after Lawrence wrote this letter around the same time he wrote some to Jessie. directly. I will dig those up and post later; I have to type them out. I think after a time Jessie, no longer responded to these letters. In fact she may not have responded to any of them, after the breakup;

Yes, do if you find time

I have read in several books that Ursula (in part) is based on Frieda, Lawrence's wife, in both "The Rainbow" and 'Women in Love". In WIL, there are many characters based on real people in L's life, such as Hermoine and some critics have their thoughts, on who exactly Gerald represented or was modeled after - these do conflict some. Rupert Birkin is definitely based on Lawrence, himself. He preaches, like Lawrence, and is not always clear-cut on his theories on life and love (since they are still in the developmental stage for L)...so who could mistake him? There are books that tell who the characters are all based on. I find it quite interesting, don't you?

Yes i remember what we were discussing about Birkin etc. He was a very interesting character. But in the end i preffered Gerald

I must agree with you and Manolia, regarding the "first feelings" about Paul-and Lawrence, by extention-I've often thought "poor Miriam", "poor Clara", but more often I have thought "poor Mrs.Maurel".I don't know, I dare to say I can feel that woman, I have a very close relationship with my mother, and I seem to love all the mothers of the world, I don't know if that sounds a little bit childish from someone who enters his 23rd year of life, but I think that our love for our mothers moves our world-in a healthy relationship-I can understand his deep love for her.

Hehehe i feel the same way about my mom. We are really close and i tell her everything and i am a bit older than you. You know what they say about greek moms

[amalia1985]

He is so fascinating in all his flaws...

Sorry about the misspeling, but I was in such a hurry to sort out and express my thoughts that my fingers went mad on the key-board...

Yes, Janine, we did discuss the essays, even wrote an exam on them. We were fortunate enough to have an excellent professor that succeeded in making Lawrence's writings stay with us. I think this is very important.

Yes, manolia, I know...Well, we loving daughters cannot help it...

[manolia]

How come Paul didn't notice earlier that his mother was sick? Yes i know, he was quite absorbed with Clara and there was a distance between him and his mother for a while (and he was kind of "subconciously"-sorry Virgil -aware that there was something wrong with his mother, her colour wasn't right and it seems in certain parts that there existed an unspoken secret between them) but still...she was supposed to be the center of his life, what kept him together as a being..and he goes partying with his friend and returns and finds his mother so sick? Isn't he totally selfish then? He couldn't realise that the dearest person in his life was suffering so much (the pains were supposed to have started months before).

[amalia1985]

Perhaps, he did realise it but did not want to accept it. You pose a very good question here, manolia.

That is amazing. I'm surprised that students were given Lawrence's critcism to read. His criticism is not highly regarded by critics. It is nteresting criticism, but it is not objective criticism. It really reflects his ideas rather than the authors. But it does show his love of literature. We see from his criticism who his major infleuences are. Thomas Hardy in fiction and Walt Whitman in poetry. He did like Herman Melville too, but I don't think he was able to use him in any way. At least as far as I can tell. I do think he was somewhat infleuenced by the Russian writers.

Yes, Virgil, you are right. Our professor did mention that back then, but she is a woman who always gave us many opportunities to achieve a possible insight in every author's works, and appreciated even the texts which could certainly be called "subjective". She did a good job, I think.

[Virgil]

How come Paul didn't notice earlier that his mother was sick? Yes i know, he was quite absorbed with Clara and there was a distance between him and his mother for a while (and he was kind of "subconciously"-sorry Virgil -aware that there was something wrong with his mother,

No need to apologize. In the world of the novel, subconscious does exist and is a perfectly valid question.

[Janine]

No need to apologize. In the world of the novel, subconscious does exist and is a perfectly valid question.

ohhhhh, now I see --- ha ..."in the world of the novel...."

Virgil, you are a riot!

I see you all have been carrying on well without me. I am looking up some letters and things right now. See what I can come up with of interest tonight.

[Janine]

Ok, I did not yet find the letters between Lawrence and Jessie (ones I had in-mind at the time of the breakup), but I did find this except, and thought it of interest, from Jessie Chambers book. Keep in mind this is just from her point of view and may contain her own bias', but I think it may be pretty accurate an account. Please let me know what you all think. This is rather long - I scanned it. I thought of summarizing but just could not get it accurate, sorry.

'E. T.' (Jessie Chambers) D. H. LAWRENCE:
A PERSONAL RECORD (1935)

LAWRENCE began to write his autobiographical novel during 19II, which was perhaps the most arid year of his life. He did not tell me himself that he was at work upon this theme. I heard of it through 'Helen'. He had been working on it for the greater part of the year, and it was some time after our brief meeting in October that he sent the entire manuscript to me, and asked me to tell him what I thought of it.

He had written about two-thirds of the story, and seemed to have come to a standstill. The whole thing was somehow tied up. The characters were locked together in a frustrating bondage, and there seemed no way out. The writing oppressed me with a sense of strain. It was extremly tired writing. I was sure that Lawrence had had to force himself to do it. The spontaneity that I had come to regard as the distinguishing feature of his writing was quite lacking. He was telling the story of his mother's married life, but the telling seemed to be at second hand, and lacked the living touch. I could not help feeling that his treatment of the theme was far behind the reality in vividness and dramatic strength. Now and again he seemed to strike a curious, half-apologetic note, bordering on the sentimental. A nonconformist minister whose sermons the mother helped to compose was the foil to the brutal husband. He gave the boy Paul a box of paints, and the mother's heart glowed with pride as she saw her son's budding power. It was story-bookish. The elder brother Ernest, whose short career had always seemed to me most moving and dramatic, was not there at all. I was amazed to find there was no mention of him. The character Lawrence called Miriam was in the story, but placed in a bourgeois setting, in the same family from which he later took the Alvina of The Lost Girl. He had placed Miriam in this household as a sort of foundling, and it was there that Paul Morel made her acquaintance.

The theme developed into the mother's opposition to Paul's love for Miriam. In this connection several remarks in this first draft impressed me particularly. Lawrence had written: 'What was it he [Paul Morel] wanted of her [Miriam]? Did he want her to break his mother down in him? Was that what he wanted?'
And again: 'Mrs Morel saw that if Miriam could only win her son's sex sympathy there would be nothing left for her.'

In another place he said: 'Miriam looked upon Paul as a young man tied to his mother's apron-strings.' Finally, referring to the people around Miriam, he said: 'How should they understand her - petty tradespeople!' But the issue was left quite unresolved. Lawrence had carried the situation to the point of deadlock and stopped there.

As I read through the manuscript I had before me all the time the vivid picture of the reality. I felt again the tenseness of the conflict, and the impending spiritual clash. So in my reply I told him I was very surprised that he had kept so far from reality in his story; that I thought what had really happened was much more poignant and interesting than the situations he had invented. In particular I was surprised that he had omitted the story of Ernest, which seemed to me vital' enough to be worth telling as it actually happened. Finally I suggested that he should write the whole story again, and keep it true to life.

Two considerations prompted me to make these suggestions. First of all I felt that the theme, if treated adequately, had in it the stuff of a magnificent story. It only wanted setting down, and Lawrence possessed the miraculous power of translating the raw material of life into significant form. That was my first reaction to the problem. My deeper thought was that in the doing of it Lawrence might free himself from his strange obsession with his mother. I thought he might be able to work out the theme in the realm of spiritual reality, where alone it could be worked out, and so resolve the conflict in himself. Since he had elected to deal with the big and difficult subject of his family, and the interactions of the various relationships, I felt he ought to do it faithfully - 'with both hands earnestly', as he was fond of quoting. It seemed to me that if he was able to treat the theme with strict integrity he would thereby walk into freedom, and cast off the trammelling past like an old skin.

The particular issue he might give to the story never entered my head. That was of no consequence. The great thing was that I thought I could see a liberated Lawrence coming out of it. Towards Lawrence's mother I had no bitter feeling, and could have none, because she was his mother. But I felt that he was being strangled in a bond that was even more powerful since her death, and that until he was freed from it he was held in check and unable to develop.

In all this I acted from pure intuition, arising out of my deep knowledge of his situation. I said no word of this to him because I thought it must inevitably work itself out in the novel, provided he treated the subject with integrity. And I had a profound faith in Lawrence's fundamental integrity.
He fell in absolutely with my suggestion and asked me to write what I could remember of our early days, because, as he truthfully said, my recollection of those days was so much clearer than his. I agreed to do so, and began almost at once, but had not got very far when word came that Lawrence was dangerously ill with pneumonia. I was sure he would get better and went on writing the notes for him. When he was convalescent'the first thing he wrote was a tiny pencilled message to me, saying: 'Did I frighten you all? I'm sorry. Never mind, I'm soon going to be all right.'

I saw him during the Christmas holiday sitting by the fire in his bedroom, grievously thin, but yet somehow so vital. Whenever I looked at him, I seemed to see the naked flame of life. It was so as he sat in his room on that sunny Saturday morning, from time to time putting a scrap of linen to his lips, and then dropping it into the fire. He looked at me with eyes in which a light would leap, then sink, and leap again. I was staying with 'Helen'. Lawrence asked me where we were going for lunch, and in the way he suddenly turned his head when I told him, I saw the whole bitterness of his illness and his enforced severance from activity.

He asked me if I had written the notes I promised to do, and I told him I had begun to write them before he was ill and just went on. He said he was going to Bournemouth as soon as he was strong enough, and after that he would come and fetch them. This was our first real talk since his mother's funeral. Some of the old magic returned, the sense of inner understanding which was the essence of our friendship ....

The writing of the novel (still called 'Paul Morel') now went on apace. Lawrence passed the manuscript on to me as he wrote it, a few sheets at a time, just as he had done with The White Peacock, only that this story was written with incomparably greater speed and intensity.

The early pages delighted me. Here was all that spontaneous flow, the seemingly effortless translation of life that filled me with admiration. His descriptions of family life were so vivid, so exact, and so concerned with everyday things we had never even noticed before. There was Mrs Morel ready for ironing, lightly spitting on the iron to test its heat, invested with a reality and significance hitherto unsuspected. It was his power to transmute the common experiences into significance that I always felt to be Lawrence's greatest gift. He did not distinguish between small and great happenings; the common round was full of mystery, awaiting interpretation. Born and bred of working people, he had the rare gift of seeing them from within, and revealing them on their own plane. An incident that particularly pleased me was where Morel was recovering from an accident at the pit, and his friend Jerry came to see him. The conversation of the two men and their tenderness to one another were a revelation to me. I felt that Lawrence was coming into his true kingdom as a creative artist, and an interpreter of the people to whom he belonged....I began to realize that whatever approach Lawrence made to me inevitably involved him in a sense of disloyalty to his mother. Some bond, some understanding, most likely unformulated and all the stronger for that, seemed to exist between them. It was a bond that definitely excluded me from the only position in which I could be of vital help to him. We were back in the old dilemma, but it was a thousand times more cruel because of the altered circumstances. He seemed to be fixed in the centre of the tension, helpless, waiting for one pull to triumph over the other.

The novel was written in this state of spirit, at a white heat of concentration. The writing of it was fundamentally a terrific fight for a bursting of the tension. The break came in the treatment of Miriam. As the sheets of manuscript came rapidly to me I was bewildered and dismayed at that treatment. I began to perceive that I had set Lawrence a task far beyond his strength. In my confidence I had not doubted that he would work out the problem with integrity. But he burked the real issue. It was his old inability to face his problem squarely. His mother had to be supreme, and for the sake of that supremacy every disloyalty was permissible.

The realization of this slowly dawned on me as I read the manuscript. He asked for my opinion, but comment seemed futile - not merely futile, but impossible. I could not appeal to Lawrence for justice as between his treatment of Mrs Morel and Miriam. He left off coming to see me and sent the manuscript by post. His avoidance of me was significant. I felt it was useless to attempt to argue the matter out with him. Either he was aware of what he was doing and persisted, or he did not know, and in that case no amount of telling would enlighten him. It was one of the things he had to find out for himself. The baffiing truth, of course, lay between the two. He was aware, but he was under the spell of the domination that had ruled his life hitherto, and he refused to know. So instead of a release and a deliverance from bondage, the bondage was glorified and made absolute. His mother conquered indeed, but the vanquished one was her son. In Sons and Lovers Lawrence handed his mother the laurels of victory.

The Clara of the second half of the story was a clever adaptation of elements from three people, and her creation arose as a complement to Lawrence's mood of failure and defeat. The events related had no foundation in fact, whatever their psychological significance. Having utterly failed to come to grips 'with' his problem in real life, he created the imaginary Clara as a compensation. Even in the novel the compensation is unreal and illusory, for at the end Paul Morel calmly hands her back to her husband, and remains suspended over the abyss of his despair. Many of the incidents struck me as cheap and commonplace, in spite of the hard brilliance of the narration. I realized that I had naively credited Lawrence with superhuman powers of detachment.

The shock of Sons and Lovers gave the death-blow to our friendship. If I had told Lawrence that I had died before, I certainly died again. I had a strange feeling of separation from the body. The daily life was sheer illusion. The only reality was the betrayal of Sons and Lovers. I felt it was a betrayal in an inner sense, for I had always believed that there was a bond between us, if it was no more than the bond of a common sp.ffering. But the brutality of his treatment seemed to deny any bond. That I understood so well what made him do it only deepened my despair. He had to present a distorted picture of our association so that the martyr's halo might sit becomingly on his mother's brow. But to give a recognizable picture of our friendship which yet completely left out the years of devotion to the development of his genius - devotion that had been pure joy seemed to me like presenting Hamlet without the Prince of Denmark. What else but the devotion to a common end had held us together against his mother's repeated assaults? Neither could I feel that he had represented in any degree faithfully the nature and quality of our desperate search for a right relationship. I was hurt beyond all expression. I didn't know how to bear it.

Lawrence had said that he never took sides; but his attitude placed him tacitly on the side of those who had mocked at love - except mother-love. He seemed to have identified himself with the prevailing atmosphere of ridicule and innuendo. It was a fatal alignment, for it made me see him as a philistine of the philistines, and not, as I had always believed, inwardly honour¬ing all unspoken bond, and suffering himself from the strange hostility to love. He had sometimes argued - in an effort to convince himself - that morality and art have nothing to do "with one another. However that might be, I could not help feeling that integrity and art have a great deal to do with one another. The best I could think of him was that he had run with the hare and hunted with the hounds....His significance withered and his dimensions shrank. He ceased to matter supremely.

I tried hard to remind myself that after all Sons and Lovers was only a novel. It was not the truth, although it must inevitably stand for truth. I could hear in advance Lawrence's protesting voice: 'Of course it isn't the truth. It isn't meant for the truth. It's an adaptation from life, as all art must be. It isn't what I 'think of you; you know it isn't. What shall I put? What do you want me to put...?' in a mounting crescendo of irritation and helplessness. I felt that words could only exacerbate the situation. The remedy must be left to time. And as I sat and looked at the subtle distortion of what had been the deepest values of my life, th"e one gleam of light was the realization that Lawrence had overstated his case; that some day his epic of maternal love and filial devotion would be viewed from another angle, that of his own final despair.

The book was written in about six weeks, under the influence of something amounting almost to frenzy. Although he avoided me Lawrence wanted to know what I thought of the novel. So, after I had studied the last sheets of the manuscript, I suggested that, as I had a holiday on a certain Monday in March, I should spend the week-end with my sister and we might meet and talk about the book. Lawrence replied that he had promised to go on a visit to a schoolmaster friend in Staffordshire on that particular weekend, but he would try to get back in good time on the Sunday. From the tone of his letter I judged that he intended me to have an opportunity of saying anything I wished to say, but it was to be a limited opportunity. I made some notes on minor points and took the manuscript with me....

We went out into the cloudy afternoon and walked past Greasley Church, then took the footpath through the fields where he and my brothers had wOi"ked together at hay harvest. Lawrence kept a sharp look-out for violets in the hedgerows. He said there must be some about because A. [Ada, Lawrence's sister] had seen youths coming home from the pit with bunches of violets and celandines in their hands. At the mention of violets and celandines I had hard work to keep the tears back, because it seemed as if springtime and spring flowers had gone out of my life for ever. Until then his manner had been bleak and forbidding, but now he softened a little and said almost wistfully:

'I thought perhaps you would have something to say about the writing.'

I felt as if I was sinking in deep water. But it was now the eleventh hour, and the time for speaking had gone by, and I merely said:

'I've put some notes in with the manuscript,' and he replied quietly, as though he was suddenly out of breath, 'Oh, all right. I thought you might like to say something. That's all.'

It was not that I would not speak but simply that I could not.
Between pride and anguish I found it impossible to tell him that the account he had given of our friendship amounted to a travesty of the real thing. His defensive attitude had kept me at bay, as he intended it should, and now the time was gone. It was too late. I could only remain silent. We spoke no more about the novel and soon turned back towards the cottage....

There was no further attempt at discussion of the novel. Lawrence made no approach to me nor I to him. I returned what few books of his I had, and he replied in a casual note. The more I thought about the situation - and' it was impossible to think about anything else - the more certain I became of the futility of attempting to reason the matter out with him. I realized that the entire structure of the story rested upon the attitude he had adopted. To do any kind of justice to our relationship would involve a change in his attitude towards his momer's influence, and of that I was now convinced he was incapable. It was the old situation in a new setting, the necessity for the mother's supremacy. More than a year before he had told me so in exact words, only without referring directly to his mother:

'You are the irremediable thing,' he had said, looking at me as though he would consume me with his eyes. 'You are what has to be. You are what cannot be helped. The great thing now is that you should not become bitter.'
It roused my irony that he should take my doom for granted, and in spite of my misery I laughed, and replied:

'No, I don't think I shall turn bitter.' But Lawrence was in such deadly earnest he did not perceive why I laughed. Now, in the novel, he had taken up the same position, and appointed himself judge and executioner. He held over me a doom of negation and futility. It pressed upon me like a weight, making the nights and days a torture. I dreaded lest I should come to fulfil it, as he seemed convinced I must.

Note: The first parts of this writing are referring primarily to the first novel drafts of Paul Morel. When we get past the illness Lawrence begins to change the novel into Sons and Lovers.

These last few paragraph's, in particular, is quite sad, I think, for anyone who has experienced heartbreak, from separating from a close friend and lover. I think many of us can relate to this feeling Jessie had looking back on the events.

[Virgil]

Very interesting Janine. I think you missed my post on the previous page where I said he would have been better suited to have married Jesse.

[rosepaoo]

one year ago,my teacher ever introduce this novle to us
It is a pity that i have never read it until now
However,i should have a look at it sometime

[Virgil]

one year ago,my teacher ever introduce this novle to us
It is a pity that i have never read it until now
However,i should have a look at it sometime

Well, if you read it you can join in our conversation. We would love to have you. Welcome to lit net.

[Janine]

Very interesting Janine. I think you missed my post on the previous page where I said he would have been better suited to have married Jesse.

Virgil, I did note it, your post. I was so busy scanning this stuff and posting it that I forgot/failed to answer your email. I often think it, as well. It seemed they had this very intense and special (and very rare bond). I wish they could have worked through their hangups or differences, but I think the timing was all wrong back then for them. Timing can be everything. I do know that Jessie gave her heart and soul to helping Lawrence get published. I believe one of the first things he ever had published he entered into a local contest and it was under her pen name. A second entry was under her friend's name - might have been Louie, not sure now. Jessie edited a lot of his work and helped and encouraged him. I think she understood in the end why Lawrence could not stay with her and this writing reveals that idea somewhat. I really felt for her, having been through intense heartbreak myself. It must have been hard - she saw Lawrence in a very special light. I think she stayed friendly with Lawrence sister for life. Lawrence invited her to come visit he and Frieda - I have that letter. I doubt she ever responded to it at that time. Sad for her. She was most likely a fine person and a nice woman/sweet.

one year ago,my teacher ever introduce this novle to us
It is a pity that i have never read it until now
However,i should have a look at it sometime

rosepaoo, yes, welcome to the Lit Net site! You can join in with our discussion or you can read the posts. I think you will get a lot of information in these posts about Lawrence and his novel and his work. I am happy you have found this thread. It is never too late to read the book. It is a great book and I am sure you will enjoy it. Our discussion here has no deadline.

[manolia]

Firstly, i'd like to say that Jessie writes beautifully.
I really liked this letter. Thanks for posting it Janine .
I have separated a few paragraphs that i liked most.

Two considerations prompted me to make these suggestions. First of all I felt that the theme, if treated adequately, had in it the stuff of a magnificent story. It only wanted setting down, and Lawrence possessed the miraculous power of translating the raw material of life into significant form. That was my first reaction to the problem. My deeper thought was that in the doing of it Lawrence might free himself from his strange obsession with his mother. I thought he might be able to work out the theme in the realm of spiritual reality, where alone it could be worked out, and so resolve the conflict in himself. Since he had elected to deal with the big and difficult subject of his family, and the interactions of the various relationships, I felt he ought to do it faithfully - 'with both hands earnestly', as he was fond of quoting. It seemed to me that if he was able to treat the theme with strict integrity he would thereby walk into freedom, and cast off the trammelling past like an old skin.

The particular issue he might give to the story never entered my head. That was of no consequence. The great thing was that I thought I could see a liberated Lawrence coming out of it.

So instead of a release and a deliverance from bondage, the bondage was glorified and made absolute. His mother conquered indeed, but the vanquished one was her son. In Sons and Lovers Lawrence handed his mother the laurels of victory.

Is Jessie suggesting that L should write a novel about his life (and his mother mostly) for therapeutic reasons? To purge himself and fight his own demons? And that he wasn't eventually succesful in doing so?

It was his power to transmute the common experiences into significance that I always felt to be Lawrence's greatest gift.

Definately agree with this quote!! She summarizes beautifully what I like in L's writing as well.

It was his old inability to face his problem squarely. His mother had to be supreme, and for the sake of that supremacy every disloyalty was permissible.

Poor Jessie..that's what i thought reading this (and the second half of the letter).

The Clara of the second half of the story was a clever adaptation of elements from three people, and her creation arose as a complement to Lawrence's mood of failure and defeat. The events related had no foundation in fact, whatever their psychological significance. Having utterly failed to come to grips 'with' his problem in real life, he created the imaginary Clara as a compensation

So Clara wasn't an actual person but a composition of three women in L's life? Do you know anything about these women?
And what about Ernest (the brother who isn't mentioned in the novel)? Why Jessie insists that he was so important?

The shock of Sons and Lovers gave the death-blow to our friendship. If I had told Lawrence that I had died before, I certainly died again. I had a strange feeling of separation from the body. The daily life was sheer illusion. The only reality was the betrayal of Sons and Lovers. I felt it was a betrayal in an inner sense, for I had always believed that there was a bond between us, if it was no more than the bond of a common sp.ffering. But the brutality of his treatment seemed to deny any bond.
He had to present a distorted picture of our association so that the martyr's halo might sit becomingly on his mother's brow
I was hurt beyond all expression. I didn't know how to bear it.
And as I sat and looked at the subtle distortion of what had been the deepest values of my life, th"e one gleam of light was the realization that Lawrence had overstated his case;
Between pride and anguish I found it impossible to tell him that the account he had given of our friendship amounted to a travesty of the real thing

Poor Jessie..again..it is nice to know her side of the story I was beginning to think that what i've read-finished the book last night - was somewhat what happened...

[amalia1985]

Poor Jessie, indeed...She must have suffered greatly. Still, we must be "thankful" for this, because her letter sheds light to many aspects of the story and Paul's relationships.

The revelation regarding Clara was shuddering! She is such a fascinating and multi-dimensional character that one can trace the hints of composition in her, but personally, I understood this only today when I read the letter Janine very kindly posted for us.

The words Jessie uses are so revealing... "betrayal", "distorted", "anguish". I don't think she is melodramatic, or that she overreacts. I can understand her.