Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Excerpt out of Sons and Lovers


Lawrence begins by sketching his own description of the universe that surrounds us all. He describes our human will as great horizontals; unfolding fields of land and sky, while the soul is depicted as arches, repeating as life after life leaps across the horizontal space. And then the divine: a vertical, perpendicular space governing the space below. It is in these broad dimensions that he places Paul and Miriam.

Paul had compared himself to a Norman church and Miriam to a Gothic cathedral. By doing this he communicates how convoluted (sometimes even ugly) Miriam is to him, but also flatters her that she might find ecstasy (with her fingertips reaching into the heavens like a steeple). Paul meanwhile identifies with the dogged, struggling, repetitive attempts of the Norman arches to reach something, to persist in his desire-filled fumbling even without a clear strategy or direction. It is perhaps a strange pair of ideas to suggest, but given Miriam’s religious mindset, perhaps Paul has made a desperate effort to reach her in terms that he feels she will best understand.

Lawrence creates his intended effects by adding details to the ‘sweeping shore of sand’. It was warm and sandy, and soon, dark and still. The sea is also a soothing presence: foam hisses softly and water whispers. Now Lawrence uses light and shadow to create perspective and depth: the moon rises over land and sea (once again a trinity is expressed). This moon is orange, and enormous. The moon represents Paul’s passionate soul: when his blood bursts into flame the moon’s appearance does too.

Juxtaposed beside this theorizing is the reality of two young people walking on a balmy evening on the sand beside a beach. He feels a flame inside of him, but her face is dark and brooding. Despite the fire inside of him, he cannot make a light in her. He feels impotent when facing her impenetrable piety. He feels humiliated and ashamed, and finds feelings of hatred and dislike rising inside himself for her. His feelings of love and lust transform quickly into shame and fear. Her fear resonates in him making him feel hesitant and unnatural. It is interesting to see how powerful emotions can be so easily colored into their opposites.

Now, contrasted against this pleasant and sensual environment, is Paul’s humiliation, like death. Paul is natural and free, and sensitive, but also filled with the passionate lust of a young man. It is not necessarily immoral – it is a natural need to engage one’s desires, and Miriam’s thinking and analysis are the killers of his romantic impulses. He wants a practical physical experience with Miriam, but her religious dogmatism makes this impossible. For her intimacy is in the abstract understanding and communication of it, which, understandably, constantly frustrates and interrupts Paul’s desire and physical momentum.


The moon, suspended over this picture, first waxes, then wanes. It appears enormous and orange initially, but one imagines by the end it has become silver and small. The moon that draws the tides, demonstrates the immense forces at work in Paul, and first making his waters roar and then crawl quietly ashore in shame.

Paul, who is natural, free and impassioned, finds himself stuck in Miriam’s fear and hesitation. The darkness Paul sees in her embodies his confusion. She wants a theoretical knowledge of the world – she wants to look at the world, not touch it. Paul wants the full experience. This conflict, this stalemate, is a source of profound pain for Paul.

There is the sight of the land, dark and still, and the sound of the sea, whispering. While they walk on their path, the shape shifting moon hovers over them. Their path takes them on their road through the universe towards a yellow light in a cottage. It a place where Paul hopes to find comfort, a home for his heart. But in a moment the light of the moon has changed, and the house on the hillside is no longer a home.

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