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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
11 of 12 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
The Man who was Banned . . .,
By
This review is from: St. Mawr & The Man Who Died (Mass Market Paperback)
This book kept me up until 3am one night because I just had to finish it.'St. Mawr' is a very entrancing short story about a woman and her dissatisfaction with men as a whole. The heroine, a countrified gentile, has a wild imagination in this, and Lawrence describes her thoughts in terms of the horse's power and motion and ability. I got so caught up in this that I finished it in just over an hour. It's a very well structured read. 'The Man Who Died' has become my favourite contemporary version of the last days of Christ. It's an amazing and original story that leaves you asking questions. Many heavy handed Christians became infuriated by this story when it was published, and i'm sure many will continue to rail against it for the humanizing of thier idol. At first glance, I wasn't aware that they were both seperate stories but, after reading 'The Man Who Died', I kept asking myself - Why are these two stories together like this? The only conclusion I could draw was, the fallibility of one and the infallibility of the other. Be advised though, D.H. does his best to derail your thinking here.
5 of 5 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
If I could, I'd split the stars, 3 and 5...,
By
This review is from: St. Mawr & The Man Who Died (Mass Market Paperback)
"St. Mawr" and "The Man Who Died," are two separate novellas brought together in this single book. "St. Mawr" is the longer, and less interesting, of the two. While Lawrence uses his usual dramatic (and excellent) flair for describing landscapes and their reflections in personality of those looking outward at them, there's a lack of direction to this story. Even more than usual, Lawrence seems to suffer from a lack of cohesion with this story, but there's a worthy read in it anyway, for his character studies are, as always, sharp enough to draw blood. Put literally, "St. Mawr" is about two women, a mother and daughter, who upon finding a fine stallion with a wildness to it, realize that that wild natural je-ne-sais-pas is missing from all the men in their lives, leading them on an interesting - if continuity flawed - pilgrimmage. "The Man Who Died," would get 5 stars from me on its own. This is an incredibly well written story of an alternate telling of the 3 days that Christ was dead. This is Christ as a human being, not a sacred figure, and as such, I can see why this story caused such a harsh discourse. Struggling to find meaning and reason for his tortures, Christ embarks on a three day journey after waking from the dead on the very same day he was entombed. I refuse to ruin any of the plot for you, but this retelling is magnificent, and a really in depth study of sorrow and suffering, and rebirth. You owe yourself a read of this, even if you skip "St. Mawr." 'Nathan
4 of 4 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Quirky stories, quintessential Lawrence themes,
This review is from: St. Mawr & The Man Who Died (Mass Market Paperback)
Not truly novels, St. Mawr and The Man Who Died seem to be experimental works in which D. H. Lawrence continues to explore the themes found throughout his longer fiction--the emasculation and dehumanization of men, the power and inscrutability of nature, the cynicism of post-war England, the difficulties in relationships and sex, and the potential of reinvention and resurrection.
Young Lou Witt, married, dispirited, weary, and bored, finds in the stallion St. Mawr the vitality the men around her lack. Although "some inscrutable bond held them together . . . a strange vibration of the nerves rather than of the blood," Lou's marriage to Rico enervates her. The relationship soon becomes Platonic, "a marriage, but without sex." The vital animal element of marriage "was shattering and exhausting, they shrank from it." When Lou touches St. Mawr, she finds him "[s]o slippery with vivid, hot life!" His "alive, alert intensity" fires her emotions, which she realizes had died in the post-war era of facile friendships and fun. St. Mawr "seemed to look at her out of another world." With her purchase of the stallion, Lou's perspective alters; "she could not believe the world she lived in." Although unreachable and unknowable, St. Mawr is more real to her than her husband, his friends, and even his apparent new love interest. For Lou, "all the people she knew, seemed so entirely contained within their cardboard, let's-be-happy world." Rico becomes almost a caricature of a man, imitating his father's officiousness and righteous indignation without feeling them. Lawrence describes Rico's meticulous attention to his appearance in detail: ". . . he dressed himself most carefully in white riding-breeches and a shirt of purple silk crepe, with a flowing black tie spotted red like a ladybird, and black riding-boots." While Rico is decorative and transparent, St. Mawr is vital and mysterious. Lawrence uses long swathes of St. Mawr to philosophize, often directly or through the Welsh groom, Lewis, who says, "But a man's mind is always full of things." St. Mawr has no plot, and the stallion himself disappears from the narrative before Lou decides to "escape achievement" in the desert of New Mexico. In New Mexico, Lawrence finds the "wild tussle" of life, which is missing from the long-civilized England, where everything is fenced in and where "the labourers could no longer afford even a glass of beer in the evenings, since the Glorious War." The displaced New England housewife who precedes Lou, seeing beauty in the desert first, then struggle, may represent Lawrence's own perspective and evolution during his stay there. The Man Who Died begins with a peasant's acquisition of a cock--perhaps the one that crows three times before Peter realizes his three denials of Christ. Like the cock, the man who died (or, more accurately, didn't die and therefore didn't rise again) is tied "body, soul, and spirit" by "that string," his commitment to mankind to die and to be resurrected. "The doom of death was a shadow compared to the raging destiny of life, the determined surge of life." Having survived his promised destiny, the man who died again renounces his godhood to become a man, this time permanently and with no agenda. His near death drives him to seek life, but not the "greed of giving" or the "little, greedy life of the body . . . he knew that virginity is a form of greed . . . he had risen for the woman, or women, who knew the greater life of the body, not greedy to give, not greedy to take . . ." In his new situation, "the presence of people made him lonely." He believes he has fulfilled his mission and is beyond it: "My way is my own alone . . . I am alone within my own skin, which is the walls of all my domain." Also alone is the virgin priestess of the temple of Isis, patiently awaiting the return of Osiris. Like Lou and many other female characters in Lawrence, she senses the superficial sexual appeal of men, but even to the great Anthony, "the very flower of her womb was cool, was almost cold, like a bud in the shadow of frost, for all the flooding of his sunshine." An old philosopher tells her, "Rare women wait for the re-born man" and that the lotus responds to "one of these rare, invisible suns that have been killed and shine no more," dismissing Anthony as one of the "golden brief day-suns of show." The consummation of the relationship between the virgin god and the virgin priestess, in a temple surrounded outside by suspicious, vindictive slaves, is beautiful and moving. "It was the deep, interfolded warmth, warmth living and penetrable, the woman, the heart of the rose!" Instead of being a mere part of the "little life of the body," sex (and procreation) becomes a deeply spiritual experience, "the marvellous piercing transcendence of desire." In both St. Mawr and The Man Who Died, Lawrence is rarely subtle or restrained, covering pages with repetitious expositions of his favorite themes, sometimes reveling too much in the variety of expression. In spite of their flaws, both works are inventive, imaginative, and stirring. For anyone who is familiar with Lawrence primarily though his more well-known novels and stories, these two works are worth a read.
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