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Banned, burned, and the subject of a landmark obscenity trial, Lawrence's lyric and sensual last novel is now regarded as "our time's most significant romance." -- "The New York Times. "This classic tale of love and discovery pits the paralyzed and callous Clifford Chatterley against his indecisive wife and her persuasive lover.… (mehr)
bluepiano: A good follow-up or perhaps corrective. Plot is broad, conventional stuff; it's Brown's great gift for language and sense of humour that make the book.
Geschrieben 1928, veröffentlicht wegen der als skandalös empfundenen Freizügigkeit erst 1960 in England. Ich hab es vor vielen Jahren mal gelesen, aber ich muss sagen, dass es mir jetzt beim Wiederlesen viel besser gefallen hat. Das hängt sicher mit den Lebensumständen und der Erfahrung zusammen. Wenn man jung und romantisch veranlagt ist, fällt das Buch eher durch.
Ich mag D.H. Lawrences Stil im allgemeinen sehr gern. Er hat eine gute Beobachtungsgabe, und schreibt überhaupt nicht emotionsheischend. Man fühlt oder leidet mit den Charakteren nicht wirklich mit (was sonst oft ein Manko ist), sondern sieht ihrem Handeln fast kühl zu. Trotzdem schwingt eine Trostlosigkeit mit, eine Enttäuschung über Menschen und die Welt, das Fehlen von Zielen und Antrieben, ein gewisses Ausgeliefertsein. Darin erinnert er mich an Tschechow (den ich verehre).
Was mir weniger gefallen hat: Zum einen die wabernden, fransigen Gedankengänge, die er seine Protagonistin machen lässt, die nicht stringent sind und denen ich daher oft nicht mehr versucht war zu folgen. Überhaupt die vorgebliche Einsicht in die weibliche Psyche und den weiblichen Körper (warum nur sollten Frauen dauernd an ihre Gebärmutter denken??) Dann war ich etwas überrascht, Züge von Mary Sue-ismus zu entdecken. Mellors (der Wildhüter) ist wie der Autor schlank, seit einer Lungenentzüdung kränklich, mit Schnurrbart, aber natürlich potent und ein guter Liebhaber. Und wer außer einem Mann kann auf die Idee kommen, seinem Penis einen Namen zu geben und die Frau das Spiel genießerisch mitmachen zu lassen? Und auch wenn der Roman zu seiner Zeit unerhört war, da er über sexuelle Befreiung, besonders der Frau handelte, ist die Grundeinstellung doch überholt: Erlöst wird die Frau (die urweibliche, nicht zu intellektuelle) vom Penis beim vaginalen Orgasmus, der bitte gleichzeitig mit dem männlichen erfolgen muss. ( )
Although written many years ago, Lady Chatterley's Lover has just been reissued by the Grove Press, and this fictional account of the day-to-day life of an English gamekeeper is still of considerable interest to outdoor minded readers, as it contains many passages on pheasant raising, the apprehending of poachers, ways to control vermin, and other chores and duties of the professional gamekeeper. Unfortunately one is obliged to wade through many pages of extraneous material in order to discover and savor these sidelights on the management of a Midland shooting estate, and in this reviewer's opinion this book cannot take the place of J.R. Miller's Practical Gamekeeping.
hinzugefügt von Cynfelyn | bearbeitenField and Stream, Ed Zern(Nov 1, 1959)
Die Informationen stammen von der englischen "Wissenswertes"-Seite.Ändern, um den Eintrag der eigenen Sprache anzupassen.
Publisher's dedication : "......to the twelve jurors who returned a verdict of 'Not Guilty' [on 2 November, 1960] and thus made D.H. Lawrence's last novel available for the first time to the public in the United Kindom"
Erste Worte
Unser Zeitalter ist seinem Wesen nach tragisch, also weigern wir uns, es tragisch zu nehmen.
Zitate
Die Informationen stammen von der englischen "Wissenswertes"-Seite.Ändern, um den Eintrag der eigenen Sprache anzupassen.
Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new litle habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble ver the obstacles. We've got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.
The beautiful pure freedom of a woman was infnitely more wonderful than any sexual love. The only unfortunate thing was that men lagged so far behind women in the matter. They insisted on the sex thing like dogs.
"No, I don't hate you," she said. "I think you're nice." - "Ah!" he said to her fiercely, "I'd rather you said that to me than said you love me! It means such a lot more..."
The world is supposed to be full of possibilities, but they narrow down to pretty few in most personal experience. There's lots of good fish in the sea... maybe... but the vast masses seem to be mackerel or herring, and if you're not mackerel or herring yourself, you are likely to find very few good fish in the sea.
"I can't see I do a woman any more harm by sleeping with her than by dancing with her... or even talking to her about the weather. It's just an interchange of sensations instead of ideas, so why not?"
"If you HAVE the proper sort of emotion or sympathy with a woman, you OUGHT to sleep with her," said May. "It's the only decent thing, to go to bed with her. Just as, when you are interested talking to someone, the only decent thing is to have the talk out."
Perhaps the human soul needs excursions, and must not be denied them. But the point of an excursion is that you come home again.
It was the last bit of passion left in these men: the passion for making a display.
"A woman wants you to like her and talk to her, and at the same time love her and desire her; and it seems to me the two things are mutually exclusive."- "But they shouldn't be!" - "No doubt water ought not to be so wet as it is; it overdoes it in wetness. But there it is! I like women and talk to them, and therefore I don't love them and desire them. The two things don't happen at the same time in me." - "I think they ought to."
All the great words, it seemed to Connie, were cancelled for her generation: love, joy, happiness, home, mother, father, husband, all these great, dynamic words were half dead now, and dying from day to day. Home was a place you lived in, love was a thing you didn't fool yourself about, joy was a word you applied to a good Charleston, happiness was a term of hypocrisy used to bluff other people, a father was an individual who enjoyed his own existence, a husband was a man you lived with and kept going in spirits. As for sex, the last of the great words, it was just a cocktail term for an excitement that bucked you up for a while, then left you more raggy than ever. Frayed! It was as if the very material you were made of was cheap stuff, and was fraying out to nothing.
All that really remained was a stubborn stoicism: and in that there was a certain pleasure. In the very experience of the nothingness of life, phase after phase, étape after étape, there was a certain grisly satisfaction. So that's that! Always this was the last utterance: home, love, marriage, Michaelis: So that's that! And when one died, the last words to life would be: So that's that!
It seemed as if most of the `really good' men just missed the bus. After all you only lived one life, and if you missed the bus, you were just left on the pavement, along with the rest of the failures.
"A woman has to live her life, or live to repent not having lived it."
Society was terrible because it was insane. Civilized society was insane. Money and so-called love are its two great manias; money a long way first.
Letzte Worte
John Thomas sagt Lady Jane gute Nacht, ein wenig freudlos zwar, aber mit hoffnungsvollem Herzen.
Banned, burned, and the subject of a landmark obscenity trial, Lawrence's lyric and sensual last novel is now regarded as "our time's most significant romance." -- "The New York Times. "This classic tale of love and discovery pits the paralyzed and callous Clifford Chatterley against his indecisive wife and her persuasive lover.