Tag Archives: D.H. Lawrence

On constancy

Of course I would love Lady Chatterley’s Lover, of course, of course, of course. I will always be partial to restless women—restless for one reason or another—and Lady Constance Chatterley belongs now to that specific pantheon in my head, with the likes of Emma Bovary, of April Wheeler. Women who desire, women who want something and want for something—these are the people my bibliophilic heart beats heaviest for. (And, hah, not to mention their illicit loves and the series of delightfully cathartic poor judgment calls and the convoluted ways they try to make themselves happy.) [Continue reading.]

Glorious, bibliophilic purpose

Am really thankful to Ana and Iris for launching Long-Awaited Reads Month again for this year—because there’s nothing like kicking off the year burdened with glorious bibliophilic purpose. I’m enamored by the whole point of the project—to read that book you’ve always told yourself you’d read, that book you’ve always wondered about, or that book that’s been on your shelves forever. It’s a great push, too, and there’s an added weight—a kind of optimism—attached to every #LARMonth read under your belt. No pressure, of course, Sasha. None at all. [Continue reading.]

marginalia || Daughters of the Vicar, by D.H. Lawrence

[My thoughts zip through this post, bec brain’s still wonky:] Despite its slimness, Daughters of the Vicar by D.H. Lawrence is as bleak a book as you’ll ever read. At 72 pages and a handful of characters, the novella reads more like a chapter-ed short story than anything. And did I mention that it was […]