Stephanie Evans

I don't like Lawrence's narrative style, which reminds me of getting stuck at a dull party politely listening to someone telling a long-winded story about people none of us know and don't find very interesting. I found myself metaphorically wanting to escape to make coffèe. Lady C comes over as self centred and rather air headed; she sleeps around as a teenager without any attatchment to or interest in her partners, marries an army officer near the end of WWI but gives no indication of loving, liking or even bothering to find out anything about him. When he comes home paralysed from the waist down, she clearly sees him as a burden, and is peeved he is unable to have sex with her, but it never seems to occurs to her that he is also likely to be pretty traumatised by the situation. She is bored by him becoming a writer, doesn't understand he wants a son. She becomes infatuated with the wife beating, unfaithful, surley Mellors, at which point the story becomes a repetative series of sexual encounters, with bits of angst thrown in. None of the characters have much personality, and are all unlikeable. Lawrence has fun using the story to air his gripes about class differences, and thumps the tub for something verging on fascism which was gaining popularity in the 1920s, but never seems to make up his mind whether he is writing to shock the ' respectable' society of his day, illustrate class differences, or just impress his friends with writing a lot of naughty words - I rather feelz it is the latter.