Customer Reviews

The Plumed Serpent

5 star:		(2)
4 star:		(5)
3 star:		(4)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

The critics focus on Lawrence's lifelong sexual themes and his colonial-era views on race, but the best part of this book, and the reason it's still important, is that it contains Lawrence's prescription for modern metaphysical ills -- a return to religion, not Christianity but a sort of new paganism which draws at its core on ideas from gnosticism and eastern mysticism. Lawrence thinks that Quetzalcoatl would embody this new paganism in Mexico, but he has Ramon suggest to Kate that, if she returns to Ireland, she should encourage the Irish to similarly reinvent the Celtic gods on the gnostic model. Ramon thinks every culture should revert to its old gods -- which he thinks are all expressions of the same, universal God -- because different "races," or to use more modern, politically correct terminology, different cultures understand the idea of "god" through their own unique experience, history and ways of thinking. Regardless of any other shortcomings, this is a fascinating, thoughtful approach, artfully presented.

I liked Lawrence's Quetzalcoatl hymns quite a bit, and thought they added immensely to the above-identified theme. They reminded me a great deal of some the Nag Hammadi manuscripts -- gnostic Christian teachings discovered in Egypt in the 1940s, and famously described by Elaine Pagels in The Gnostic Gospels. What's most amazing is the depth and scope of Lawrence's gnostic philosophy without having had access to those ancient Egyptian texts, which were not discovered until after the writer's death.

Those viewing this book through a purely feminist lens will dislike it; those who espouse identity politics will find themselves conflicted. But for anyone interested in a great writer's "practical" solution to the great spiritual dilemmas of the modern era, or who simply enjoys reading 400 pages of top-shelf prose, "The Plumed Serpent" is worth the time investment.

One gets the impression that D.H. Lawrence's visit to Mexico in the 1920's was quite difficult; Mexico was rocked by political and social violence and even extremes of climate. Yet somehow, Lawrence has successfully managed to transform his experiences into a novel alive and vital. His characters are early 20th century spiritual seekers in a country that still has not been completely deadened by what Lawrence sees as the century's materialistic malaise. His spiritual ideas are much more profound than what can be found in most modern New Age manuals, and imbedded as they are in a realistic fiction, much more entertaining.

This is one of those books that once you take the time to get familiar with, it will pull you along at a slow and sometimes painful pace. The honest and direct sensuality of the people, Kate's confusion between the love of life and the distaste for the common man, the marraige of religions, and the stuggle to become true men and women do offer the reader a wonderfly detailed story. I recommend this to anyone who feels they need a mental vacation for the social triviality of the modern day world. It is a book to help regain perspective.

I must agree with the other reviewers that this book has some wonderful writing. There are passages of description that simply dazzle. The scene in which heroine Kate first sees the gathering of the Men of Quetzalcoatl, where the beats of the drums seem to draw the soul from the earth, is absolutely mesmerizing.

Yet for every memorable scene there are pages and pages of wild romanticizing about native values, obscenely outdated musings about race, and odd sentiments about marriage and women. Unlike "Women in Love," this book doesn't present love in a very good light. Kate is seen as a woman torn between her need to be herself and her need to be subsumed by a man. And the answer is unclear at the end. I found her to be a sympathetic character despite her annoying quirks (if she hates Mexico so much, why doesn't she just leave?) and I felt the ending didn't show her growing or changing. I also felt that the other main characters (Ramon and Cipriano) became almost brutal by the book's end, and this development was not resolved in any satisfactory way.

I have to admit being profoundly disappointed by the ending, and by the bizarre theorizing about the soul of the "dark races." But, I had to keep remembering that this book was a product of the early twentieth century. And the writing is what still makes it masterful.

In the area of the poetic use and the beauty of the English language, this book is well-written and certainly worthy of one's time taken in reading it. The language and the imagery invoked is breath-taking. In the area of subject matter, it is rather unique. An Irish woman journeys to Mexico just after the Mexican Revolution and becomes involved with two men who have taken it upon themselves to return Mexico to the religion of Quetzalcoatl and Huitzilopochtli. She joins them to become the First Woman of Malintzi and wife of the First Man of Huitzilopochtli. However, in the area of social language, the book is a product of its time. The Mexican people -- and all "dark" people -- are the objects of particularly malignant language, which I found objectionable. As an historian, I can place the book in its proper perspective, however, and recommend it as a good read.

Myths may not have any credibility or even feasibility, but the truth is that every new one accrues its followers. "Do it ... And then you will know," from Cipriano's argument with Kate, could be seen as an attempt to convince the reader as well that myths are real and normal people believe in them, even the myth of Quetzalcoatl. This long-ago Aztec religion, revived for modern Mexico, ends up a contagious energy force that hits the country at the perfect time, spreading quickly and eroding the traditional Catholic foothold.

Lawrence has gone to great lengths to make the details of Ramon's religion convincing and thorough. The creative language of Ramon's speeches and hymns comes across as realistic, and alluring enough to draw its early followers from the community. Ramon feels that his country is dead, or dying, and that it needs a religion that will bring rebirth or revival to his people. Ramon's wavering respect for the Catholic Church combines with his desire for a "living" Mexico and leads him to bring back Quetzalcoatl, an ancient Aztec god. His religion gains quick favor with the people because of its contiguity with the fundamentals of Catholicism. Ramon tells the people that God has called Jesus and the Virgin Mary back to heaven and has told Quetzalcoatl, his new identity, to restore peace to the Mexican people. His use of religious terms (the Cross, Paradise, Morning Star, Saviour, Will of God, etc.) helps verify his claim and earn him a place in the societal construct. This Biblical language referencing the resurrection of Christ, "... when I am new man? I will roll away the stone," accomplishes the same effect as the Catholic terminology. This use of Biblical language culminates in Kate's response to Ramon's question "It is good, isn't it, Mistress?" with her answer "It is very good," which uses the language of the Genesis Creation story.

It is difficult to tell if Lawrence is using this novel as a praise or reprimanding of new myths. One can sense a satirical undercurrent of regret that humankind is so often ready to embrace new ideas like Ramon's. It is doubtful that Lawrence is speaking only about the country of Mexico. This uncertainty surfaces most often through the character of Kate as she wrestles with her English heritage and curiosity of Mexican culture. She wavers between giving herself over completely to Ramon's religion, and when she does finally give in, Lawrence leaves the reader with the feeling that she's made the wrong choice.

Reviewed by Jonathan Stephens

D.H. is not at his best here, in "white man's burden" early 20th century Mexico. Kate, Irish girl stranded in central Mexico makes the best of things and develops theories about the "dark races" and their "passions" and why they can't seem to get their priorities in order. Masterful Aztec serpent carvings are described as having the appearance of "coils of excrement". Young native girls stare out of their window like "an animal in a cave", and go "slap, slap, slap" with their tortillas. Mexicans don't know how to keep themselves warm...they shiver like lizards on a bed of corn husks during the high-altitude nights. On occasion, though, they display creativity and masculine "power". They dress in crisp whites and do dances and go through elaborate, New Age chants, including memorable quotes such as "I am the stone of life", "on to the nakedest star", before retiring to the pool of "refreshing death". The nonsense ending where the "Plumed Serpent" enthusiasts usurp the Mexican government, instead of being riddled with bullets like every other insurgent Mexican reform group in the 20th century, strains the reader's patience and goodwill. Memorable on a number of levels, yes, but great literature, I don't think so.

Kate, an Irish woman visiting Mexico, is in a continuous state of war with herself: whether to maintain her independence from men in the modern, European society to which she was familiar or to submerge her very soul to Cipriano, a Native American general bent upon revolution in Mexico. Cipriano would call it "uniting" their souls. Kate, having a gentle, womanly spirit, views Mexicans as "dark men" steeped in violence, revolution and death. She is sickened by this attitude--as she was by the bull fight presented early in the book--having lost a husband who was dedicated to fighting for Ireland's freedom from Britain. In fact, _The Plumed Serpent_ concerns the battle of women against men and the ambivalent feelings (including sexual) of one for the other. Kate is equally attracted to and repelled by the Mexican culture. Dona Carlota, the wife of Ramon who is a close friend of Cipriano, like Kate is an opponent of Ramon's revolutionary fervor. Both Ramon and Cipriano yearn to replace "the Gringo" Jesus Christ's hold on the Church with the Aztec God Quetzalcoatl. There is a harrowing and incendiary scene in the book concerning just this issue.

The book contains a number of references to sexuality, both male (Cipriano and Ramon are often shown at least partially naked) and female (Kate's expression of her sexuality as an indication of her independence, whereas Cripriano often sees her as a vessel for his manhood). I only wish that Lawrence had not dwelt so much in the novel on hymns written by Ramon as a paeon to Quetzalcoatl. This often bogged the book down in pseudo-Aztec myth-making and took away from what was otherwise a well-written and meaningful book.

Lawrence was the first of the angry men who came to dominate English letters after WWII, only Lawrence was ahead of them by nearly fifty years. It is instructive if not enlightening to read Lawrence here in "The Plumed Serpent" and elsewhere, for example in "Kangaroo," on the subject of the 'masses,' the people, and on democracy. Lawrence who was of working class stock created a reactionary persona who saw himself as an artistic aristocrat who looked down on nearly everyone. The opening scene at the bull ring is a masterpiece of writing. In it, Lawrence weaves his Irish heroine's visceral reaction to the cruelty of bull fighting into her observations of the Mexican people. Her conclusion, and I think Lawrence's, was that the bull's deserve our sympathy, while the people can rot. He was a great hater of the masses, as expressed in "Kangaroo," his survey of the new emerging democracy down under. He was, as he said, afraid of the ant hill, the grinding down of human life to the multitude and its needs. In so many ways he was prophetic, anticipating many of the arguments and observations of the Frankfurt School members, such as Adorno, who came to America and were appalled. This is a great novel in the sense that it fully expresses Lawrence's view of the world. It displays his uniquely expressive prose and contains brilliantly observed details of the Mexican landscape.

Lawrence is much like Faulkner in the sense that his prose seems to spew out in gorgeous, confused, confussing, sometimes brilliant, sometimes horrid chunks. Lawrence's technique doesn't flow so much as it purges, and combined with the baroque possibilities of Mexico, it produces a massive and challenging novel that lunges from one extreme to another. I'm still not sure if Lawrence's conception of Kate Leslie was too complex for me to grasp or simply convoluted. The novel begins abruptly and ends in even greater uncertainty... But in between, it is a great book to keep on your nightstand for a month or two.