Customer Reviews

Sea and Sardinia (The Cambridge Edition of the Works of D. H. Lawrence)

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In 1921, D.H. Lawrence joined the British literary tradition of writing a travelogue. He and wife Frieda, "the Queen Bee," were weary of Sicily where they were staying and selected Sardinia for its promise of unspoiled primitiveness and lack of "tourist-parasites." Though SEA AND SARDINIA follows many of the conventions of the travelogue genre of the time, playing to the market for a foreign experience, moments of wonder mixed with irony and nationalistic-centric sentiments, it is also a self-revealing journal in which Lawrence's passions, rages and perspectives get a frequent work-out.

As travelogues go, SEA AND SARDINIA may be found somewhat lacking in the description of landmarks. Lawrence focuses on encounters with the people, who presented a multi-layered lesson in the collision of the ancient with the 20th century and the recent war. In speaking to the audience back home, Lawrence often expresses himself in literary and historical allusion and his musings ring with a psychological resonance that is both intentional and unintentional. The result is an entertaining and informative experience that imparts much about post-war Europe and this particular traveler.

This is a fine critical edition. The annotations are discretely listed at the back of the book, with no disruptive footnotes blotting the page. There are also a good map, a glossary of Italian words and phrases and a brief bibliography following the text. A chronology of Lawrence's career precedes it, as does a critical introduction. Despite the quality of the introduction, I heartily recommend reading it AFTER you've enjoyed the text on your own terms, because it gives away some of the surprises (as critical introductions are wont to do).

As described in the other reviews, and the accompanying comments within the book itself, this is DHL as non-fiction travel writer. Note that it was written after the completion of his major works, and what it says about his views, his relationships, and the immediate post-WWI period in portions of Italy. Particularly fascinating are the local/regional/national and continental attitudes. The more things change, the more they . . .

These few innocuous opening words are Lawrence's rationale for taking a short break which, in turn, became the genesis for an extraordinary travelogue.

Unlike others who read `Sea and Sardinia' as part of their academic studies, I did so voluntarily. I came across a reference to it in another book on Sardinia, tracked it down and then became intrigued by what one Lawrence biographer described as one of his two most `accessible' books. (I went on to become a little more than intrigued - others might say `obsessed' - and eventually retraced Lawrence's journey and wrote my own book.)

`Sea and Sardinia' is the story of a nine-day trip that Lawrence and his German wife Frieda made from their home in Taormina on the north-east coast of Sicily, to and through Sardinia and back to Sicily via mainland Italy. The historical setting is post-Great War Europe, a time of economic, political and cultural upheaval that every day was sowing the seeds of the Second World War.

The story, written throughout in the present tense, is no more than a traveller's remembered diary (apparently Lawrence took no notes) of his journey ... but then this particular traveller was an accomplished writer of fiction, an acute socio-political observer and an amateur psychoanalyst.

Generally it is a breathtaking read though, for some, his occasional lapses into tales of classical deities and their place as part of the story of ancient Sicily (once Greek), might be a bit tedious but it must be remembered that, like many independent travellers of the time, Lawrence was well-grounded in Classical themes and he would have expected his audience to share his knowledge, if not his interest.

He was an irascible traveller; I sometimes wondered why he travelled so much for, if `Sea and Sardinia' is anything to go by, he never seemed to enjoy himself and found fault at almost every turn. Of course he and Frieda did encounter some foul hostelry, particularly in Sardinia where, except for Cagliari, the accommodation was generally basic and the food, when available, barely adequate and rarely appetizing.

He clearly didn't have a lot of fun but, nevertheless, he manages to leave the reader with many humorous memories: like his pseudo-psychoanalysis of the convicts at Messina station; the woman at sea who insisted on speaking French; the man who lost his wife on the train between Cagliari and Mandas; the open-air public toilet at Sòrgono; and, most of all, his perceptive descriptions of his fellow travellers.

His occasional companions on his nine-day ordeal were given nicknames which were often funny (the sludge queen), generally abusive (the mosquitoes) and only occasionally benevolent (Hamlet); Frieda was not immune, she was the q-b, the queen bee, and from time to time Lawrence uses her thoughts as a vehicle to express his gentler side, on the rare occasions when he deigned to be what Italians would call `simpatico'.

Anyone who reads `Sea and Sardinia' expecting to be shown round well-known landmarks and edifices will be disappointed; it is not a guide book. Indeed Lawrence explicitly makes the point that he is not interested in such things when, describing Nuoro, he comments, "Sights are an irritating bore ... Happy is the town that has nothing to show. What a lot of stunts and affectations it saves!" That said, he and Frieda do happen upon local festivals and customs which he describes in rich and colorful detail but he does so as an honest witness rather than an impressionable tourist.

As an insight into what make Lawrence tick, `Sea and Sardinia' is, I believe, incomparable; as a gateway into an extraordinary time in European social and political history, albeit through the eyes of one cantankerous and often jingoistic Englishman, it is unique.

As usual, Lawrence is an artist, I won't make a review about his skill.
The book came in good shape, stayed this way, no more to ask ;)

This was one of the assigned readings for an English literature course at the University of Illinois, Navy Pier, Chicago, 1954-56. About halfway through the book the instructor gave up on this title, no one objected.