$\"\"$
Dorothy Brett, D.H. Lawrence as Christ and Pan, 1926\/1963<\/p><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n
‘The picture is of a crucifixion. The pale yellow Christ hangs on the Cross, against an orange sunset. With that final spurt of strength before death, he is staring at the vision of the figure in front of him. His eyes are visionary, his figure tense and aware. Before him, straddled across a rock, half-curious, half-smiling, is the figure of Pan, holding up a bunch of grapes to the dying Christ: a dark, reddish-gold figure with horns and hoofs. The heads of Pan and of Christ are both your head. Behind lies the sea.’ (Brett 1933: 275)<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n
The painting reproduced above, however, is not the one.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u2018Alas, that the laughter and criticism of others made me cut the picture up in a rage! (Brett 1933: 275). Lawrence had condoled with her when the Brewsters \u2018snubbed your Jesus\u2019 (5L <\/em>390). But when Brett showed him the painting in her hotel room on Capri in March 1926 (Ellis 1998: 291):<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
‘You look at it in astonishment; then you laugh and say quickly:<\/p>\n
“It\u2019s a good idea, but it\u2019s much too like me\u2014much too like.”<\/p>\n
“I know,” I reply, “but I took the heads half from you and half from John the Baptist.”<\/p>\n
“It\u2019s too like me,” you repeat abruptly. “You will have to change it.” \u2026<\/p>\n
“It is you,” I say.<\/p>\n
“Perhaps,” you answer grimly. \u00a0 (Brett 1933: 275)<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Brett adds “some day I will paint it again”. This day came thirty years later in 1963, when she named it after Lawrence\u2019s 1927-8 novella \u2018The Man Who Died\u2019 (Hignett 1984: 208-9). In this the resurrected Christ forms a sexual relationship whilst \u2018the all-tolerant Pan watched\u2019 (VG <\/em>151); by the time the painting was resurrected, apparently in near-identical form,[<\/a>1] Lawrence was also a man who had died, yet was in more ethereal ways living on.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
He had remained an important part of Brett\u2019s life over the intervening decades, not least because she continued to live on his former ranch, where she came to be visited by \u2018A constant stream of scholars, writers and Ph.D. students\u2019 with a \u2018belief that the glory that had been reflected on Dorothy Brett would be transferred to them\u2019 (Hignett 1984: 264; 9). Three years before she revived her painting, the British unbanning of Lady Chatterley\u2019s Lover <\/em>had stoked still more of the facile Lawrentian idolatry she professed to deplore (214). She clearly considered her own work of iconisation of 1926\/63 to stand distinct.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Yet her choices of icons were obvious ones. Numerous features of Lawrence suggested contemporary understandings of each or both gods, to her as to many, in Lawrence\u2019s lifetime, the 1960s and since. Christ-like he preached an idiosyncratic vision of salvation both parabolically and explicitly, denounced hypocrisy and materialism, prioritised content over form and soul over intellect, liked children and communal living, prophesied destruction, was poor and physically weak, died in pain and believed in a kind of resurrection. Yet he was not humble, non-resistant, humourless or asexual. Pan-like he could also be a satiric outsider, was deeply connected to nature, and believed in the importance of sex and in man as an animal. His physical and behavioural resemblances to Christ were remarked by numerous contemporaries: several accounts of Lawrence\u2019s December 1923 dinner at the Caf\u00e9 Royal liken it to a Last Supper, with Lawrence as Christ and John Middleton Murry as Judas (Nehls 1958: 295-304; Ellis 1998: 148). But he could also suggest Pan; Brett recalls watching him sleeping on Capri: \u2018As I watch you \u2026 A leopard skin, a mass of flowers and leaves wrap themselves round you. Out of your thick hair, two small horns poke their sharp points; the slender cloven hoofs lie entangled in weeds\u2019 (1933: 286).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The two gods are mutually antagonistic according to the ancient story that at \u2018At the beginning of the Christian era, voices were heard off the coasts of Greece, out to sea, on the Mediterranean, wailing: \u201cPan is dead! Great Pan is dead!\u201d\u2019 (MM <\/em>155). Pan was therefore often identified with Satan, with whose conventional representation his own shares horns and hooves. Their opposition is rendered the more striking, however, by their similarities: bearded (\u2018the beard\u2019 is a strong Lawrentian indicator in biofiction, as Lee M. Jenkins relates in her Chapter in this volume), slender, d\u00e9class\u00e9 outsiders who live close to nature and die young. Consequently, not only could Lawrence be represented as either Pan or Christ, but many of his aspects \u2013 for example as a preacher of sexual honesty or a bohemian rebel \u2013 could be aligned with either, or both.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Brett\u2019s Christ resembles none of those described in \u2018Christs in the Tyrol\u2019 (1913); he does not stare \u2018stubbornly\u2019 like a \u2018Bavarian peasant\u2019 (TI<\/em> 43), nor is he in \u2018bitter despair\u2019 (44). He more resembles one of the \u2018others\u2019 which Lawrence speculated might also have existed on the cross: \u2018one who looked at them and thought: \u201cI might be among you \u2026 But I am not, I am here. And so\u2014\u2014\u201d\u2019. Lawrence closed his essay: \u2018And I suppose we [presumably the English] have carved no Christs, afraid lest they should be too like men, too like ourselves\u2019 (47). In Brett\u2019s case, in painting Lawrence, she found herself painting gods. Her Pan distorts the Biblical narrative just as much as her own, and Lawrence\u2019s, depictions of Christ. His gesture is ambiguously one of teasing and goodwill in offering physical joy (represented by the grape, in contrast to Mark\u2019s myrrh [15.23], Matthew\u2019s gall [27.34] and John\u2019s vinegar [19.29]). In \u2018The Man Who Died\u2019 Christ as it were accepts Pan\u2019s proffered grapes and so becomes him \u2013 a Roman overseer calls him \u2018the goat\u2019 (VG<\/em> 162) \u2013 but in the painting each god has his own, separate validity: each has his own flowers.[2] Although Christ is bound, and Pan is almost centred, Christ\u2019s height is greater, the sun amplifies his halo, and his flowers give their whiteness to Pan\u2019s horns, and cover his quiescent phallus.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Certainly the relationship is more balanced than in the painting which Lawrence started the year after seeing Brett\u2019s. He described \u2018Fauns and Nymphs\u2019 as \u2018a nice canvas of sun-nymphs laughing at the Crucifixion \u2013 but I had to paint out the Crucifixion\u2019 (Sagar 2003: 47). Here the triumph of the Pan-like is so total as to obliterate the crucifixion even beyond the reach of its mockery.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
$\"\"$
D. H. Lawrence, ‘Fauns and Nymphs’, 1927<\/p><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n
Like Nietzsche\u2019s, Lawrence\u2019s obsession with Christ was one as rival and corrector, and by Pan Lawrence understood what Christ had failed to value or understand. Nonetheless, if one considers Lawrence\u2019s writings more broadly, a range of relationships between the Pan-like and Christ-like emerge. Some are uncomfortable, and resemble the combination which Lawrence attributes to the Murry avatar in his 1924 story \u2018The Last Laugh\u2019: \u2018he seemed like a satanic young priest \u2026 A sort of faun on the Cross, with all the malice of the complication\u2019 (WWRA <\/em>123). Others, however, evoke the separateness-with-connection, and difference-without-agonism, which Brett\u2019s painting depicted \u2013 notably \u2018The Overtone\u2019, in which the young woman Elsa desires both Christ and Pan, because \u2018I am a nymph and a woman, and Pan is for me, and Christ is for me \u2026 To Pan I am nymph, to Christ I am woman. And Pan is in the darkness, and Christ in the pale light\u2019 (SM <\/em>16).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
This Chapter will use these relations in Lawrence\u2019s writing as a context in which to understand why and how he has so often not only been treated as an icon but a deity \u2013 especially Christ or Pan. This is not to deny a Lawrentian quiddity irreducible to either god or to any relationship between them; a concentration on the Christ\/Pan axis tends to obscure Lawrence\u2019s political interests, for example. Nonetheless, it has often been remarked that Lawrence is contradictory, and has been deified; I suggest that Brett\u2019s double portrait suggests a way of linking the two.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
It is first worth mentioning, however, the relationship between iconisation and deification. An \u2018icon\u2019 expanded its meaning from a visual depiction (especially of divinity) to \u2018A person or thing regarded as a representative symbol\u2019 or one \u2018considered worthy of admiration or respect\u2019 in the early 1950s (OED draft addition 2001), just in time for the take-off in Lawrence\u2019s standing as an icon metonymic of successful working-class men (Baldick 2001: 263), and as a thinker \u2018considered worthy of admiration or respect\u2019 (as he was represented by F. R. Leavis [1955]). It is with the latter sense of \u2018icon\u2019, which refers to the signified rather than the signifier (\u2018icon\u2019 tout court<\/em>, rather than \u2018icon of\u2019) that this Chapter is principally concerned. Even within his lifetime Lawrence became sufficiently famous as to be visually recognisable (generating, and thanks to, \u2018icons\u2019 in the pictorial sense). He himself strongly satirised the appetite for such stardom, notably in Clifford Chatterley\u2019s worship of \u2018success: the bitch-goddess!\u2019 (LCL <\/em>50). He also criticised the deification of others, including Christ (\u2018I cannot believe in a church of Christ\u2019) and authors (notably Dostoevsky; RDP <\/em>385). As we shall see, however, he himself did much to invite such a response. As early as 1932, his German advocate Wilhelm Emanuel S\u00fcskind \u2018wrote that in Lawrence we have the unique case of a modern writer who, even outside his own language community and solely as a writer, had formed groups of devoted disciples\u2019 (quoted in Jansohn and Mehl 2007: 2). The Chapter will focus on the first four decades of his reception history, until the \u2018groups of devoted disciples\u2019 began to significantly dwindle. More recent developments, however, will be considered in the final section.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n
Lawrence as Christ <\/strong><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n
Brett\u2019s own memoir of Lawrence is, in Keith Cushman\u2019s words, \u2018the most adoring\u2019 of those produced in the 1930s (2010: 125). Its present tense second-person address recalls a Protestant\u2019s personal, conversational relationship with the risen Christ, whilst the memories recounted frequently present Lawrence in a Christ-like aspect. He enters the Caf\u00e9 Royal \u2018like a God, the Lord of us all, the light streaming down on your dark, gold hair\u2019 (Brett 1933: 20). If her painted and pen portraits of Lawrence figure him as \u2018D. H. Lawrence Superstar\u2019, then her love for him, with its uncertain sexual element, anticipates the song of Mary Magdalene in the 1972 musical Jesus Christ Superstar<\/em>: \u2018I don\u2019t know how to love him\u2019.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
In Son of Woman<\/em>, of two years before, Murry\u2019s presentation of Lawrence as \u2018the anti-type of the man who is from the beginning, and will be to the end, his veritable hero \u2013 Jesus Christ\u2019 (1931: 14) relied on their similarities as much as their differences: \u2018only can Jesus can judge Lawrence, because he loved as Lawrence did\u2019; \u2018if he was crucified, as he surely was, it was for us that he was crucified\u2019 (55). Indeed, his understanding of Christ seems to have been as much influenced by his knowledge of Lawrence as the reverse; according to his 1926 biography of Jesus: Man of Genius<\/em>, \u2018Jesus taught Life itself \u2013 not how to live \u2013 but Life\u2019 (xiii); he valorised \u2018something infinitely precious\u2019, which \u2018sometimes\u2019 he called \u2018Life itself\u2019 (7). Catherine Carswell, in her prompt defence of Lawrence from this attack, cast Murry as Judas (and therefore, implicitly, Lawrence as Christ) (1981: 48). Aldous Huxley called Son of Woman<\/em> a \u2018curious essay in destructive hagiography\u2019, yet the noun as well as the adjective is apt (1937: 332). Murry presents Lawrence too as a \u2018thing of wonder\u2019 who gives \u2018birth\u2019 to \u2018spirit and love\u2019 \u2018in men\u2019 (1931: 389). He not only presents Lawrence, like Christ, as a man without humour, but treats him in an entirely serious spirit, and never mocks.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
In his 1937 essay on Lawrence, Huxley spliced Matthew Arnold\u2019s 1873 definition of God (as \u2018the enduring power, not ourselves, which makes for righteousness<\/em>\u2019 [1893: 43]) with Lawrence\u2019s own vocabulary to say that, for Lawrence, \u2018sex is something not ourselves that makes for \u2013 not righteousness \u2026 for life, for divineness, for union with the mystery\u2019 (1937: 334). Leavis then recapitulated the phrase \u2018that makes for\u2019 in asserting that Lawrence \u2018has an unfailingly sure sense of the difference between that which makes for life and that which makes against it\u2019 (1955: 311). He also recycled the terms with which Murry had described both Christ and Lawrence: \u2018a man with the clairvoyance and honesty of genius\u2019 (1955: 110); a centre \u2018of radiant potency \u2013 of life that irradiates people in whom the creativity is less powerful\u2019 (1976: 152). With reason, Chris Baldick asserted that by the 1950s Leavis had \u2018assumed the role of St Paul\u2019 to Lawrence\u2019s Christ (2001: 259).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
On the cusp of the next decade, during the British Lady Chatterley <\/em>trial, several defence witnesses argued for the novel\u2019s compatibility with Christian morality, of which some attributed this to Lawrence\u2019s nonconformist background. Defence QC Gerald Gardiner said that \u2018this book was a passionately sincere book of a moralist in the Puritan tradition\u2019, and implied that, like Christ, Lawrence had suffered injustice at his death from which a subsequent religion (which a proper study of \u2018what it [LCL<\/em>] really is\u2019 would permit) would rescue him (quoted in Hyde 1990: 279). The Bishop of Woolwich Dr John Robinson, one of four Anglican clergymen who appeared for the defence, averred that it was a book which \u2018Christians ought to read\u2019 since it depicted sex as \u2018something sacred, in a real sense as an act of Holy Communion\u2019 (128: 127). The soubriquet for Lawrence as an icon of the sexual revolution, \u2018Priest of Love\u2019, drew on Lawrence\u2019s own Christian vocabulary in a self-description of Christmas Day 1912, even whilst the term \u2018Love\u2019 turned euphemistically in the direction of Pan (1L<\/em> 493).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The contrast of Lawrence\u2019s posthumous deification with his previous vilification drew some satiric notice, as Jenkins notes in the context of her Chapter on biofiction: \u2018in England the murder of genius was only a precautionary measure taken to ensure a posthumous canonization\u2019 (Winter 1936: 14). Yet Leavis drew an important line: \u2018I view with the gravest distrust the prospect of Lawrence\u2019s being adopted for expository appreciation as almost a Christian by writers whose religious complexion is congenial to Mr Eliot\u2019 (1955: 311), recognising that \u2018the insight, the wisdom \u2026 that Lawrence brings\u2019 (15) diverged importantly from Christ\u2019s own. The distance may be measured particularly clearly in those of Lawrence\u2019s writings that treat the pagan god, Pan, which for Lawrence represented the necessary corrective to Christ \u2013 writings which in turn inspired alternative responses to Lawrence.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Lawrence as Pan<\/strong><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u2018The Last Laugh\u2019 (1924) gives its eponymous laugh to what is strongly implied to be Pan; this being kills the story\u2019s Murry character but vivifies the story\u2019s Brett avatar (well might she paint Pan positively two years later). The being\u2019s conflict with Christianity is direct; his wind wrecks a Hampstead church, plays its organ like \u2018Pan-pipes\u2019 and sends its altar cloth flying into the trees with which Pan is so strongly associated (WWRA? 131). This is Pan as an Antichrist \u2013 a satiric, laughing, revitalising and potentially-dangerous outsider. Several such aspects of Lawrence were valorised by critics whose thought had some overlap with fascism (Booth in his Chapter on Lawrence\u2019s politics refutes the idea that Lawrence can himself be described as fascist). In 1941 the German Karl Arns praised him as \u2018a rebel against English prudishness, intellectualism, bourgeoisie, the machine, democracy and Christianity\u2019 (quoted in Jansohn and Mehl: 51).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Some of the same qualities were also valued by the working-class men, entering universities for the first time in large numbers in the 1950s, who took Lawrence as an icon of proletarian masculinity. As Raymond Williams observed, \u2018If there was one person everybody wanted to be after the war, to the point of caricature, it was Lawrence\u2019 (1977: 126); the Lawrence beards which they affected were arguably closer in spirit to Pan\u2019s than Christ\u2019s (the former more pointed, and therefore both more goat-like and more Satanic). The latter had been a provincial carpenter\u2019s son who had conquered the world, but the former had a capacity for mockery, and for violating goddesses, which suited the Angry Young Men\u2019s particular form of anger. Colin Clarke\u2019s 1969 River of Dissolution <\/em>explored Lawrence\u2019s inward understanding of degeneration as an explicit counter to Leavis\u2019s interpretation: \u2018The Satanic Lawrence, or the Lawrence who finds beauty in the phosphorescence of decay, will be sought in vain in the pages of D. H. Lawrence: Novelist<\/em>\u2019 (xiv).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Lawrence\u2019s embodiment of the Hampstead Pan\u2019s laughing, puckish aspect in his brilliant acts of mimicry (described by John Worthen in his Chapter on \u2018Performance\u2019) was acknowledged by several works of biofiction (see also Jenkins\u2019s Chapter), but recognition of the laughter in Lawrence\u2019s works was slower to develop. In 1955 Leavis complained about the \u2018absurd\u2019 \u2018view that he lacks a sense of humour\u2019 (13). This view declined particularly after the publication of the complete text of Mr Noon <\/em>in 1984, and the exploration of Lawrence and Comedy<\/em> in a 2010 collection of essays (Eggert and Worthen). As recognition of Lawrence\u2019s senses of humour has risen, so too has an apprehension of his resemblance to certain of his own conceptions of Pan, as explored by John Turner in the 2010 collection (70-88).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Two different conceptions of Pan are expounded in Lawrence\u2019s \u2018Pan in America\u2019 (1924), of which the thesis is that Pan did not actually die \u2018At the beginning of the Christian era\u2019, but became \u2018old and grey-bearded and goat-legged, and his passion was degraded with the lust of senility\u2019 until he became \u2018Old Nick \u2026 who is responsible for all our wickednesses, but especially our sensual excesses\u2019 (MM<\/em> 156). The original \u2018great god Pan\u2019 is a greater being, however, and Lawrence found him to be most honoured and alive amongst \u2018the Indians\u2019 who are most in contact with the universe (164). St. Mawr<\/em> draws out this distinction when Lou tells Dean Vyner that he looks like Pan: \u2018But I\u2019m afraid it\u2019s not the face of the Great God Pan. Isn\u2019t it rather the Great Goat Pan!\u2019 (SM <\/em>64). \u2018Pan\u2019 comes from \u2018pasturer\u2019 but Lawrence, like many, associated it with \u2018all\u2019 (VG <\/em>279). Several early critics of Lawrence praised Lawrence\u2019s sense of connection to the living universe, and of these a few named Pan. J. C. Squire, in his 1928 review of the Collected Poems<\/em>, said that \u2018Mr. Lawrence might almost have been possessed by Pan\u2019 (301).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Yet the \u2018goat-legged old father of satyrs\u2019 has been the form of Pan most invoked, implicitly or explicitly, by those who made the author of Lady Chatterley\u2019s Lover<\/em> an icon of the sexual revolution (SM<\/em> 64). Not only is Lady Chatterley\u2019s Lover<\/em> in many countries the one work by Lawrence which most people can name, in France \u2018as elsewhere in the world, the general public is certainly more familiar with the name of Lady Chatterley than with its creator\u2019s\u2019 (Katz-Roy 2007: 107). After the publicity caused by the Italian (1947), American (1959) and UK (1960) Lady Chatterley<\/em> trials there was a flurry of translations of the novel into European languages (Jansohn and Mehl 2007: xxxi-xxxiii). It was widely received as celebrating freedom of love and of pornography, in a manner still further removed from that novel\u2019s desiderata than is the facile, sensationalist \u2018jazzing\u2019 which is condemned in its representation of Venice (LCL <\/em>259). This response persisted despite the disappointment of some of those who approach the book in such a spirit, as Lawrence saw happening in his own lifetime (310). In 1965 Tom Lehrer asked in a song entitled \u2018Smut\u2019: \u2018Who needs a hobby like tennis or philately? \/ I\u2019ve got a hobby: rereading Lady Chatterley<\/em>\u2019. Two years later Philip Larkin struck a similar note by announcing that \u2018Sexual intercourse began\u2019 only after \u2018the end of the Chatterley<\/em> ban\u2019 (2003: 146). In Perestroika and post-Soviet Russia, where new translations appeared in 1989 and 2000, the novel was (mis-)aligned with the strenuously- if inaccurately-Westernising pornification of society that pertained to that period (Jansohn and Mehl 2007: xxxviii, xli). More recently, \u2018goat-legged\u2019 humour generated The<\/em> Mirror<\/em> headline of 16^{th<\/sup>December 2005 concerning the new Ann Summers \u2018Lady Chatterley\u2019 lingerie range: \u2018Who nicked Lady Chatterley\u2019s Knickers?\u2019. In more straightforward pornographic mode are the photo-illustrated, heavily abridged versions of the novel, such as that of Roger Baker (1990).<\/p>\n}
<\/p>\n
The relationship between the Christ-like and the Pan-like, which often emerges in responses to Lawrence, is that the former relates to form whereas the latter relates to content. Huxley perceived that he \u2018could never forget, as most of us almost continuously forget, the dark presence of otherness that lies beyond the boundaries of man\u2019s conscious mind\u2019, but in preaching this, Lawrence inevitably resembled Christ, since Christ but not Pan was a preacher (1937: 333). This is the theological aspect of the crucial Lawrentian paradox of consciously extolling the virtues of unconsciousness. A similar tension exists in the shrine that Frieda and her third husband Antonio Ravagli built in 1935 for Lawrence\u2019s ashes at Taos. Its form was more that of a chapel than a temple; Pan tended to be worshipped outdoors, and this supposedly contained the \u2018shrine\u2019 of Lawrence\u2019s ashes; but the extent of the appropriateness of this resemblance, alongside the frisson of heterodoxy created by the substitution of Lawrence\u2019s phoenix for the cross, fits with the tension between two gods that existed in Lawrence\u2019s life, and which the scattering of Lawrence\u2019s ashes on the mountainside (that Brett favoured), would not have acknowledged (Hignett 1984: 225).<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n
Icons<\/strong><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Unlike Brett, Lawrence never clearly represented himself as Pan, but did give his face to Christ, as in his May 1927 painting Resurrection<\/em>.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
$\"\"$
D. H. Lawrence, ‘Resurrection’, 1927<\/p><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n
Created at the same time as Part 1 of \u2018The Man Who Died\u2019, this shows a Christ who, although his eyes are still dim with death, appears physically robust enough to satisfy a Priestess of Isis in due course. Indeed, wherever Lawrence\u2019s face is to be found in his paintings it tops a body more robust than his own. Lawrence\u2019s painting therefore performs a similar critique of Christ as does his story (arguing that Christ over-sacrificed himself at the expense of his body, which is seen increasing in strength and potency over the course of the story).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Brett\u2019s 1925 portrait also splices Lawrence with an unorthodox vision of Christ (as her double portrait of the following year, which displaces Lawrence\u2019s critique of Christ onto Pan, does not).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
$\"\"$
Dorothy Brett, Portrait of D. H. Lawrence with Halo, 1925<\/p><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n
More than in Resurrection<\/em>, the Lawrentian and the Christ-like exist in powerful dialogue with each other. The narrowed, slightly-stylised eyes, as in an Orthodox icon, gaze with pain to the viewer\u2019s right, indeterminately at the state of the world and at his own fate. His halo is formed by a moon in near-total eclipse; soon he will be left in darkness, save for the star that burns prominently over his left shoulder, perhaps suggesting rebirth through its allusion to the Nativity. He is dressed, as Ellis notes that Lawrence rarely was, as \u2018the artist\u2019, in a navy shirt and black smoking jacket (1992: 163). Brett is therefore conflating the godlike and the artistic, but conceiving of both in their toughest aspects. The similarity of the three-quarter profile, colour of hair and shape of beard to that of the Christ of the following year\u2019s double-portrait with Pan emphasises the contrasts. Assertively clothed rather than semi-naked, composed rather than startled, potent rather than crucified, and in the present rather than the past, this Lawrence clearly matches Christ\u2019s capacity for grief, but has a different set of solutions for the modern world.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
By contrast, several much-reproduced photographs taken near the end of Lawrence\u2019s life evoke more traditional images of Christ. Whenever he was photographed to a standard sufficiently high to invite reproduction, he tended to be alone and serious; in traditional iconography (from ancient Greece, and throughout the history of Christian art), often Pan, but rarely Christ, smiles. Publicity photographs did not demand smiling but did require a few seconds\u2019 pause (in 1928 the society photographer Robert H. Davis demanded of him six), which cannot capture a sincere smile (Ellis 1992: 166). Catherine Carswell, who managed to \u2018take a snapshot\u2019 of a laughing Lawrence in Florence in 1921, said that \u2018I am very glad to have the picture now. It is, I think, a misfortune that by far the most of the photographs and portraits of Lawrence show him as thoughtful \u2013 either fiercely or sufferingly so\u2019 (1932: 167).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
In 1928 Robert H. Davis made a number of such photographic portraits at Pino Orioli\u2019s bookshop in Florence. One was used on the dustjacket of Last Poems<\/em> (1932) and Volume III of the Nehls biography; it was photographs such as these that Geoff Dyer had in mind when he commented that \u2018The closer he came to die\u2019 (when \u2018It was possible to discern in him the profile of his approaching death\u2019), \u2018the more he looked like D. H. Lawrence\u2019 (1998: 37). But the studio photograph taken in June 1929 by Ernesto Guardia for the frontispiece of Pansies<\/em> \u2012 also chosen by Aldous Huxley for his 1932 selection of Lawrence\u2019s letters, and for the back of many Penguin paperbacks in the 1950s and 60s \u2013 contains no hint of the crucifixion.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
$\"\"$
Ernesto Guardia, Portrait of D. H. Lawrence, 1929<\/p><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n
The eyes are mild, loving and understanding, the lips are pressed gently in thought, and the white light which illumines his cheek and forehead is at one with his clerically white collar. An almost equally famous photograph\u00a0 <\/a>taken at the same sitting shows him gazing, far-seeing and straight before him, with a slight smile of joyful anticipation. He is lit both behind and in front and, for all the obtrusively quotidian nature of his jacket, shirt and tie, he could be gazing at heaven.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
$\"\"$
Ernesto Guardia, Portrait of D. H. Lawrence, 1929<\/p><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n
As far as I am aware, only Brett\u2019s double portrait represents Lawrence as literally goat-legged, and no portrait from his lifetime represents him as metaphorically so, \u2018the Great Goat Pan!\u2019 (SM <\/em>64). Perhaps the closest is a 1923 three-quarter profile in chalk by Edmond Xavier Kapp in which he looks indeterminately at and through the viewer; his mouth is curved in a bow, he keeps his own counsel, but has the appearance of having many things up his sleeve.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
$\"\"$
Edmond Xavier Kapp, Portrait of D. H. Lawrence, 1923<\/p><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n
All is raffish curves: the curly fringe, archly raised brows, proletarian nose, bowed mouth, and beard which in its curliness and length is pointedly that of Pan and not Christ. Here were have the strongest smile in a contemporary \u2013 perhaps any \u2013 non-photographic picture of Lawrence, underlining both the satiric and satyric sense which placed him on the side of Pan.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A few photographs, however, more strongly conjure the \u2018power to blast\u2019 of Pan the revolutionary outsider (MM <\/em>156). One is the much-reproduced 1915 studio portrait of Lawrence in a hat looking over his left shoulder.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
$\"\"$
Elliott and Fry, Portrait of D. H. Lawrence, 1915<\/p><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n
The stance is that of a sceptical, slightly hostile assessor of what is going on, confident in his immaculate suit, faintly gangsterish trilby and strongly-bearded chin. Half of his face is in shadow; he is not entirely knowable. He is reckoning up a fight that he has on his hands \u2013 but fight he will. This was selected by me for the 2017 International D. H. Lawrence conference poster in order to invite consideration of Lawrence as a somewhat dangerous denizen of London (as is the Pan of \u2018The Last Laugh\u2019), rather than a Christ-like provincial shepherd. Similar considerations may have influenced the choice of same image for the cover of Tom Paulin\u2019s 2017 Faber selection of Lawrence\u2019s poems. Still more threatening are the studio photographs requested by Lawrence\u2019s American publisher Thomas Seltzer in August 1923, in which Lawrence has crossed arms, sunken cheeks, lowered brows, and eyes flinging challenge at the camera.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
$\"\"$
Studio portrait of D. H. Lawrence, 1923<\/p><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n
His conventional dress seems to be worn as though in defiance and, as Brett imagined when they were on Capri, one can almost imagine horns emerging through his hair.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
There exists one portrait which presents him as Pan-like in the most sinister sense, an etching (of which there are several versions) by Frederick Carter made around 1930.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
$\"\"$
Frederick Carter, Portrait of D. H. Lawrence, 1930s<\/p><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n
His beard is pressed on his chest, his eyes look malevolently and panoptically in two different directions, and his lips are compressed into a frown-cum-grin. This Lawrence is plotting serious mischief with great concentration. But the majority of unflattering portraits of Lawrence suggest no deity whatsoever. When these are used to illustrate unflattering commentaries on Lawrence, the fact that they are not the \u2018iconic\u2019 images gives the very choice an iconoclastic frisson. For example, Mabel Dodge Luhan chose a 1924 Mexico City studio portrait for the frontispiece of her relatively unadoring 1932 memoirs. His back is to the wall, he looks down and to the side apparently in fear, and he has nothing to offer. Murry reiterated his purported taking of Lawrence at his own word in Son of Woman<\/em> by using Lawrence\u2019s 1929 self-portrait as his frontispiece (which had also been used in the first edition of Pansies<\/em>). Well might Lawrence have said of this picture: \u2018Alas, drawing my own face is unpleasant to me\u2019 (Sagar 2003: 83). The face is concave with worry, there is a slight but crazed squint, and the mouth is part open in consternation. The tie ridiculously suggests an extension of the beard, but also, with its heavy knot, suggests a noose worn around the neck prior to an execution.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Several informal photographs, however, simply present Lawrence at peace with his circumambient universe, and therefore in touch with what Lawrence understands by \u2018the Pan-mystery\u2019 (MM <\/em>162). Brett\u2019s memoir is illustrated by eight photographs taken in New Mexico, of which all show him outdoors, and three feature animals: a horse on whom he sits (96), a cat whom he holds (256) and a cow whom he milks (225). In the last of these his head is buried in the curve of Susan the cow\u2019s right flank; his stance is of utter concentration as he doubtless feels \u2018the pulse of the blood of the teats of the cow[s] beat into the pulse of [his] hands\u2019 (R <\/em>10), and he seems as if he could be \u2018still within the allness of Pan\u2019 (MM <\/em>158). These images, however, are not those by which he is known.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n
Iconoclasm<\/strong><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
One consequence of Lawrence\u2019s deification has been that many of the attacks on him have addressed the deified versions of him. This is what I shall here call iconoclasm, since the denigration is not so much of the signified author as of the signifying icon (though in the denigrators\u2019 minds the two may be confused). Such attacks tend to fall into two categories, those which accuse Lawrence of resembling Christ or Pan, and those which attack him for failing to resemble them \u2013 thus respectively condemning him by negative association with, and critiquing his alleged pretensions in relation to, these gods.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Lawrence was aware that he was ridiculed for his Christ-like aspects. In the year after he was painted as Christ in Brett\u2019s double portrait, a photograph was taken of him wearing what appears to be a paper bishop\u2019s mitre; his face expresses uncertain enjoyment at the joke.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
$\"\"$
D. H. Lawrence in 1927<\/p><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n
In Women in Love<\/em> he converted a real incident of an acquaintance\u2019s parodic recitation of his poems in the Caf\u00e9 Royal into a recitation of (Lawrence avatar) Birkin\u2019s letters. The parodist\u2019s friends respond: \u2018It almost<\/em> supersedes the Bible \u2013\u2019; \u2018He thinks he is the Saviour of man\u2019 (WL<\/em> 383-4). One can hear in the last the tone of the high priest: \u2018he made himself the Son of God\u2019 (John 19: 7). Certainly Lawrence was trying to supersede the Bible; he said that with The Rainbow<\/em> he wanted to create a \u2018kind of Bible for the English people\u2019 (Worthen 1981: 21). But it is not clear that Women in Love<\/em>\u2019s mockers would mock any the less were his writing tosupersede the Bible, which is presumably to them also an object of ridicule. To resemble Christ in his preaching may be for such critics as much a criticism of Christ for resembling Lawrence as the reverse.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
By contrast, when Prosecutor Mervyn Griffith-Jones ridiculed the Bishop of Woolwich\u2019s defence of Lady Chatterley\u2019s Lover<\/em>\u2019s Puritanism by quoting the passage in which Connie thinks \u2018\u201cBeauty! What beauty! \u2026 the strange weight of the balls between his legs!\u201d … That again, I assume, you say is puritanical? \u2026 Answer: Indeed, yes\u2019 (Hyde 1990: 324-5), he was ridiculing the idea of Lawrence\u2019s compatibility with Christianity, with no prejudice to the latter. (Murry, as we have noted, also found Lawrence wanting in comparison with Christ, but unlike Griffith-Jones took the comparison entirely seriously[1931: 54, 351, 372]).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Some people have been put off Lawrence by the religiosity of his followers, considering him to have been inappropriately deified. The novelist and editor Sigurd Hoel explained in 1930 why he would not publish Lawrence in the prestigious Yellow Series for Norwegian publisher Gyldendal as follows:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
‘it is difficult to evaluate his contribution without taking into account the congregation with which he surrounded himself \u2026 vying with each other to praise, celebrate, embrace and adorn the master, the Messiah of the new dispensation. If the mixed fragrance of erotic perfume and the sweat of angst which is exuded from this circle is meant to be the scent of a new spring, then anybody would hastily pray for other seasons.’ (Fj\u00e5gesund 2007: 247)<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Wayne C. Booth, in his archly-titled \u2018Confessions of a Lukewarm Lawrentian\u2019, raises an eyebrow at Lawrentian idolatry even whilst he describes his rediscovery of its causes: \u2018I find myself now returned from my un-Lawrentian prodigalities to confess my sins and to ask forgiveness\u2019 (1990: 9). One also imagines that the laughter with which Brett acknowledges that her double portrait was received was similarly directed at its idolatry (1933: 275).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Just as some have condemned misguided worship of Lawrence as Christ-like, others have done the same for his worship as a lustful Pan. In 1957 G\u00fcnter Bl\u00f6cker wrote that \u2018No author of the last fifty years has \u2026 found more false disciples than he\u2019, but added in 1960 that \u2018it is the logic of fame that ties the poet\u2019s name to his most questionable product\u2019\u00a0 (quoted in Jansohn and Mehl 57-8). According to Alfred Andersch in 1968,<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
‘for many German intellectuals Lawrence is no more than the author of a kitschy novel [Lady Chatterley\u2019s Lover<\/em>]\u2026 owing to that trivial judgment, Lawrence\u2019s masterworks are at present not obtainable in German bookshops, and people laugh at you when you maintain that the author of Sons and Lovers <\/em>is an author of absolute greatness.’ (59-60)<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Contrariwise, others have attacked Lawrence for failing to live up to Pan. Some have found in him under-acknowledged homosexual instincts, either because these entail a divergence from the full-blooded heterosexuality which they present him as valorising, or because he puritanically and conventionally denies the full range of his sexual experience, and therefore the amplitude of Pan in himself. Hugh Steven\u2019s Chapter on \u2018Politics and Art\u2019 in the current volume contains elements of both analyses.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Such attacks contrast with those which condemn him for resembling <\/em>Pan, as, I have argued above, Frederick Carter\u2019s 1930 sketch does. The John Bull<\/em> reviewer of Lady Chatterley\u2019s Lover<\/em> did not intend the soubriquet \u2018this bearded satyr\u2019 as a compliment (1928: 279). Such reactions pertained more in England than other European countries, however. In inter-War Germany it was understood that Lawrence was \u2018opposed in conventional England more than in Germany for his alleged obsession with sex\u2019 (Jansohn and Mehl 2007: 40). Further East, the Pan-like Lawrence was criticised from a Stalinist rather than a Christian viewpoint. Dmitry Svyatopolk Mirsky, who slightly knew Lawrence from his time in London in the 1920s, criticised him in his 1934 Intelligentsia of Great Britain<\/em> for seeing himself as \u2018more primitive and so more healthy than the bourgeoisie\u2019; \u2018It is no better than the reverse of the medal, a decadent bourgeois attraction to animal coarseness\u2019:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
It is one of the \u2018heights\u2019 of a very wide front of the literature of the upper intelligentsia produced by writers who have rejected society, lost faith in capitalist progress, and turned to the worship of what they consider to be the sempiternal phallic deity. (1935: 121-2)<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Back in capitalist England a quarter-century later, Griffith-Jones, in his opening speech at the Chatterley <\/em>trial, told the jury that<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
‘the prosecution will invite you to say that [the novel] does tend, certainly that it may tend, to induce lustful thoughts in the minds of those who read it \u2026 It commends, and indeed it sets out to commend, sensuality almost as a virtue.’ (Hyde 1990: 17)<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Mirsky\u2019s and Griffith-Jones\u2019s critiques were reframed in feminist terms by Kate Millett in her 1970 Sexual Politics<\/em>: \u2018Lady Chatterley\u2019s Lover<\/em> is a quasi-religious tract recounting the salvation of one modern woman \u2026 through the offices of the author\u2019s personal cult, \u2018the mystery of the phallus\u2019 (1971: 238). Like Huxley, but from a critical standpoint, she identifies in Lady Chatterley\u2019s Lover<\/em> Christ-like form but Pan-like content: a description of Mellors\u2019s penis is \u2018the novel\u2019s very holy of holies \u2013 a transfiguration scene with atmospheric clouds and lighting, and a Pentecostal sunbeam\u2019. She names \u2018the god Pan, incarnated in Mellors\u2019 (242), and like Murry criticises Lawrence for failing to resemble Christ; in Aaron\u2019s Rod<\/em>\u2019s she identifies the \u2018attack on Christianity\u2019 with \u2018a need to debunk any system with egalitarian potentialities, sexual or social\u2019 (277).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Conclusion: Resurrection<\/strong><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Yet Lawrence-as-deity has been more damaged by marginalisation than by explicit attack. The plunge in Lawrence\u2019s stature and fame from the 1970s brings to mind the broken crucifix in the Alps which he saw in 1912, rhetorical arms swinging aimlessly in the wind, unheeded (TI <\/em>46-7). In part it has been the case that, as Margaret Drabble noted, \u2018the mood of the 80s and 90s has been so hard-edged, so determinist-defeatist in some ways, so merciless in others and above all cynical \u2013 a world in which D. H. Lawrence does not fit\u2019 (quoted Preston 2003: 30). That is, just as belief in the divinity of Christ has waned since Lawrence\u2019s time (and interest in Pan has fallen from its Edwardian neo-pagan peak\u00a0[3]), belief in Lawrence\u2019s quasi-divine aspect \u2013 and even interest in attacking it \u2013 has diminished in what in the West has been a less religious age. In parallel, and paradoxically, his divinity has been obscured by such acceptance as his ideas have achieved; several of the desiderata <\/em>of Lady Chatterley\u2019s Lover<\/em> have been achieved, not least through the fact of its unbanning.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
During the 1985 centenary celebrations, Emile Delevanay said that \u2018Even though the prophet, the guru, is already dated, the poet, the novelist, the short story writer, transcends the boundaries of his period\u2019 (Katz-Roy 2007: 128). In doing so he was sending people back to the complexity of texts which disrupt any deification of Lawrence as Christ or<\/em> Pan. In the same year the journal \u00c9tudes Lawrenciennes<\/em>, and in the following year the annual Lawrence conference at the University of Nanterre, were established in order to foster precisely such study. Michael Bell exemplifies a contemporary reverent but non-deifying approach in suggesting that Lawrence should be taken as an index in the American philosopher C. S. Peirce\u2019s sense of the word. Peirce (1839-1914) made a distinction between an index, which points to a referent elsewhere (as signposts and plaques beneath paintings do), and icons (which share features with the represented other, as portraits and maps do) (Savan 1993: 442). In my Introduction I stated that this Chapter was concerned mainly with Lawrence as a self-referential \u2018icon\u2019 tout court<\/em>, rather than an icon of<\/em> anything. An alternative approach is to take him as an index, which encourages us to look elsewhere:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
‘Many are now educated confidently to look down on Lawrence as a thinker, and in a sense that is right. For no more than with Nietzsche would it be appropriate to look up <\/em>to him in a spirit of discipleship. But any looking down should be a matter of questioning the ground on which one stands and the wholeness with which one thinks.’ (2007: 168).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
In his 1924 essay \u2018On Being Religious\u2019 Lawrence figured the \u2018Holy Ghost\u2019 as a barking hound on the track of the now-elusive God, and encouraged his readers to accept \u2018God\u2019s own good fun\u2019 in following the hound on the scent (RDP<\/em> 192-3). Lawrence in his writings pursues this chase. His readers can either take him as their own Holy Ghost, or alternatively \u2013 as many now find easier \u2013 follow his example rather than his trajectory, and listen out for their own.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Yet although explicit, unembarrassed deification has now largely been abandoned, passionate appreciation and awe persist, sometimes under the guard of ostensible iconoclasm. Geoff Dyer is famed as an iconoclast of the deified Lawrence and of Leavis\u2019s Lawrentian canon: \u2018As for Women in Love, <\/em>I read it in my teens and, as far as I am concerned, it can stay read \u2026 If we\u2019re being utterly frank, I don\u2019t want to re-read any<\/em> novels by Lawrence\u2019 (1997: 104-5). The 1998 front cover of Out of Sheer Rage<\/em>, like Brett in 1963, represents Lawrence as Pan (by adding cartoonic Pan-horns to the 1929 Guardia photo portrait) \u2013 but in a spirit of iconoclasm rather than reverence ostensibly performs its failure to be the intended \u2018homage to the writer who had made me want to become a writer\u2019 (2), collapsing instead into the witty autobiography of that failure.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
$\"\"$
Cover of ‘Out of Sheer Rage’, Geoff Dyer, 1998<\/p><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n
Yet the book\u2019s original subtitle \u2018In the Shadow of D. H. Lawrence<\/em>\u2019 not only acknowledges the depression into which that failure apparently threw the author, but the greater stature of his subject, about whom striking aper\u00e7us erupt without warning throughout the narrative. Dyer does not go so far in his explicit defence of Lawrence as Tony Hoagland, who in his poem of the same year confesses that:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
‘On two occasions in the past twelve months<\/p>\n
I have failed, when someone at a party<\/p>\n
Spoke of him with a dismissive scorn,<\/p>\n
To stand up for D. H. Lawrence.’ (1998: 31)<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Rather, his admiration emerges as though backwards, in response and resistance to decades of less complicated admiration. Yet the book\u2019s ultimate centre is Lawrence\u2019s \u2018Bejahung<\/em>\u2019 (Dyer 1997: 112): \u2018saying yes\u2019, or, as Aldous Huxley put it \u2018For Lawrence \u2026 it was as though he were newly re-born from a mortal illness every day of his life. What these convalescent eyes saw [a world unfathomably beautiful and mysterious] his most casual speech would reveal\u2019 (1937: 350). Dyer ends his book: \u2018The world over, from Taos to Taormina \u2026 the best we can do is to try to make some progress with our studies of D. H. Lawrence\u2019 (1997: 232).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Out of Sheer Rage<\/em> has a visual counterpart in Hunt Emerson (cartoonist) and Kevin Jackson\u2019s (script) 2016 \u2018D. H. Lawrence Zombie Hunter\u2019. Here Lawrence is stylised with a black, cutlass-sharp beard, eyes crazed with anger, protruding ears and a brawny, sabre-wielding arm. As the prefatory note puts it:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
‘Lawrence was the original Mr Angry \u2013 the Basil Fawlty of literary modernism. You name it, he was probably driven nuts by it \u2026 In this comic Lawrence\u2019s \u2018savage pilgrimage\u2019 from nation to nation becomes a one-man war against the zombification of the human race.’ (n.p.)<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
$\"\"$
Hunt Emerson, ‘D. H. Lawrence – Zombie Hunter’, 2016<\/p><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n
The shrewd caricature undermines deification of Lawrence even whilst endowing Lawrence with (cartoonic) superhuman powers. Like Dyers\u2019s book, this story manages to convey much perception and admiration, and concludes by asking, in relation to his proto-environmentalism, \u2018Perhaps it\u2019s time to take him seriously again?\u2019 (n.p.). Certainly, ecocriticism has of late begun to recognise in Lawrence a major figure, as was evident at the 2018 Paris Nanterre conference entitled \u2018Lawrence and the Anticipation of the Ecocritical Turn\u2019. In stressing Lawrence\u2019s intimate connectedness with the living universe, his participation in what he would call the Pan mystery is implicitly, if not always explicitly, acknowledged.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Dorothy Brett\u2019s much-ridiculed painting of 1926, therefore, depicted an important dynamic not only of Lawrence\u2019s thought but of his reception, as by 1963 she may have able to perceive. As recently as 2009-13 Glyn Bailey\u2019s Broadway-style Lawrence: The Musical <\/em>in part rehearsed a banalised Pan in its comic concentration on \u2018Lady Chatterley\u2019s Lover <\/em>\/ I\u2019ve read it from cover to cover\u2019, and a Christ-like Lawrence in a closing song that affirms its claim by the very fact of its performance: \u2018I will rise like the Phoenix \u2026 I\u2019ll never die again\u2019. As this Chapter has hoped to show, understanding Lawrence as either <\/em>Christ-like or <\/em>Pan-like has involved denying parts of him. His story \u2018The Overtone\u2019, more than any of his other works, indicates the necessity of acknowledging both:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u2018\u201cPan is in the darkness, and Christ in the pale light. \u201cAnd night shall never be day, and day shall never be night. \u201cBut side by side they shall go, day and night, night and day, for ever apart, for ever together. \u201cPan and Christ, Christ and Pan.\u2019 (SM <\/em>16)<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Denying either in Lawrence as a whole can lead to misdirected deification, or irrelevant iconoclasm, of him. This was particularly apparent at the Lady Chatterley <\/em>trial, which consisted of a battle between the defence\u2019s and prosecution\u2019s respective presentations of him as overwhelmingly Christ-like, and reprehensively Pan-like.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Although deification is now relatively out of cultural and critical vogue, so too is the aggressively deconstructive high theory which Dyer\u2019s book deplores (1997: 100), and passionate and joyful admiration \u2013 if only of Lawrence as index rather than icon \u2013 persist. \u2018A Lawrentian\u2019 is not the equivalent term to \u2018a Joycean\u2019 in that the former is far more likely than the latter to attribute to their author inspiration for living. The name of the international online Lawrentian discussion group \u2018Rananim\u2019 balances modest irony (it is far from what Lawrence had hoped for under the name) with the good faith that helping each other with our \u2018studies of D. H. Lawrence\u2019 is the closest that we can come to his hopes. Many of his readers, who would resist any idea of deification, continue to feel, as Catherine Carswell did in 1932, that \u2018His emblem, the phoenix, has not played him false. If it be true of any man it is true of him, what he said himself \u2013 \u201cthe dead don\u2019t die. They look on and help\u201d\u2019 (292).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Works Cited<\/strong><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n
Arnold, Matthew (1893, orig. 1873), Literature and Dogma<\/em>, London: Smith, Elder, & Co.<\/p>\n
Baker, Roger, ed. (1990), D. H. Lawrence \u2018Lady Chatterley\u2019s Lover\u2019<\/em>, n. p.: Loveline Publishing Limited.<\/p>\n
Baldick, Chris (2001), \u2018Post-mortem: Lawrence\u2019s Critical and Cultural legacy\u2019, in<\/p>\n
The Cambridge Companion to D. H. Lawrence<\/em>, ed Anne Fernihough, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 253-70.<\/p>\n
Bell, Michael (2007), Open Secrets: Literature, Education and Authority from J-J. Rousseau to J. M. Coetzee<\/em>, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007.<\/p>\n
Booth, Wayne C. (1990), \u2018Confessions of a Lukewarm Lawrentian\u2019, in The Challenge of D. H.\u00a0<\/em>Lawrence<\/em>, eds Michael Squires and Keith Cushman, Madison and London: The University of Wisconsin Press, pp. 3-8.<\/p>\n
Brett, Dorothy (1933), Lawrence and Brett: A Friendship<\/em>, London: Martin Secker.<\/p>\n
Carswell, Catherine (1981 [orig. 1932]), The Savage Pilgrimage: A Narrative of D. H. <\/em><\/p>\n
Lawrence<\/em>, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.<\/p>\n
Clarke, Colin (1969), River of Dissolution: D. H. Lawrence & English Romanticism<\/em>,<\/p>\n
London: Routledge.<\/p>\n
Cushman, Keith (2010), \u2018Indians, an Englishman, and an Englishwoman: Lawrence\u2019s and<\/p>\n
Dorothy Brett\u2019s Representations of Indian Ceremonial Dancing\u2019, in \u2018Terra Incognita\u2019: D. H. Lawrence at the Frontiers<\/em>, eds Virginia Crosswhite Hyde and Earl G. Ingersoll, Madison: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, pp. 112-30.<\/p>\n
Dyer, Geoff (1998), Out of Sheer Rage: In the Shadow of D. H. Lawrence<\/em>, London: Abacus.<\/p>\n
Edwards, Sarah (2017), \u2018Chapter 1: Dawn of the New Age: Edwardian and Neo-Edwardian Summer\u2019, in Edwardian Culture: Beyond the Garden Party<\/em>, eds Samuel Shaw, Sarah Shaw, Naomi Carle, London: Routledge. Ebook.<\/p>\n
Eggert, Paul and John Worthen, eds (2010), Lawrence and Comedy<\/em>, Cambridge: Cambridge<\/p>\n
University Press.<\/p>\n
Ellis, David (1998), D. H. Lawrence: Dying Game 1922-1930<\/em>, Cambridge: Cambridge<\/p>\n
University Press.<\/p>\n
Ellis, David (1992), \u2018Images of D. H. Lawrence: On the Use of Photographs in Biography\u2019,<\/p>\n
in The Portrait in Photography<\/em>, ed. Graham Clarke, London: Reaktion Books, pp. 155-72.<\/p>\n
Emerson, Hunt and Kevin Jackson (2016), \u2018D. H. Lawrence: Zombie Hunter\u2019, in Dawn <\/em><\/p>\n
of the Unread<\/em>, Nottingham: UNESCO City of Literature and Spokesman.<\/p>\n
Fj\u00e5gesund, Peter (2007), \u2018In Hamsun\u2019s Shadow: The Reception of D. H. Lawrence in<\/p>\n
Norway\u2019 in The Reception of D. H. Lawrence in Europe<\/em>, eds Christa Janssohn and Dieter Mehl, London: Continuum, pp. 244-54.<\/p>\n
Hoagland, Tony (1998), \u2018Lawrence\u2019 in Donkey Gospel<\/em>, Minneapolis: Graywolf, p. 31.<\/p>\n
Huxley, Aldous (1937), \u2018D. H. Lawrence\u2019, in Stories, Essays & Poems by Aldous Huxley<\/em>,<\/p>\n
London: J. M. Dent & Sons, pp. 331-52.<\/p>\n
Hyde, H. Montgomery, ed. (1990), The Lady Chatterley\u2019s Lover Trial<\/em>, London: The Bodley<\/p>\n
Head.<\/p>\n
Janssohn, Christa and Dieter Mehl, eds (2007), The Reception of D. H. Lawrence in Europe<\/em>,<\/p>\n
London: Continuum.<\/p>\n
John Bull<\/em> (1928), review of Lady Chatterley\u2019s Lover<\/em>, in D. H. Lawrence: The Critical <\/em><\/p>\n
Heritage<\/em>, ed. R. P. Draper, London: Routledge, 1970, pp. 278-80.<\/p>\n
Katz-Roy, Ginette (2007), \u2018D. H. Lawrence in France: A Literary Giant with Feet of Clay\u2019,<\/p>\n
in The Reception of D. H. Lawrence in Europe<\/em>, eds Christa Janssohn and Dieter Mehl, London: Continuum, pp. 107-37.<\/p>\n
Lane-Fox, Robin (2019), email correspondence with the author.<\/p>\n
Larkin, Philip (2003), Collected Poems<\/em>, London, Faber & Faber.<\/p>\n
Leavis, F. R. (1985, orig. 1955), D. H. Lawrence: Novelist<\/em>, London: Peregrine.<\/p>\n
Leavis, F. R. (1976), Thought, Words and Creativity: Art and Thought in Lawrence<\/em>,<\/p>\n
London: Chatto & Windus.<\/p>\n
Luhan, Mabel Dodge (1932), Lorenzo in Taos<\/em>, London: Martin Secker, 1933.<\/p>\n
Millett, Kate (1971), Sexual Politics<\/em>, London: Virago.<\/p>\n
Mirsky, D. S. (1935), The Intelligentsia of Great Britain<\/em>, trans. Alec Brown, London: Victor<\/p>\n
Gollancz.<\/p>\n
Murry, John Middleton (1926), Jesus: Man of Genius<\/em>, New York and London: Harper.<\/p>\n
Murry, John Middleton (1931), Son of Woman<\/em>, London: Jonathan Cape.<\/p>\n
Nehls, Edward (1958), D. H. Lawrence: a Composite Biography<\/em>, vol. II 1919-1925,<\/p>\n
Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.<\/p>\n
Preston, Peter (2003), \u2018\u201cI am in a Novel\u201d: Lawrence in Recent British Fiction\u2019, in D. H. <\/em><\/p>\n
Lawrence: New Worlds<\/em>, eds Keith Cushman and Earl G. Ingersoll, London:<\/p>\n
Associated University Press, pp. 25-49.<\/p>\n
Sagar, Keith (2003), D. H. Lawrence\u2019s Paintings<\/em>, London: Chaucer Press.<\/p>\n
Savan, David (1883), \u2018Peirce, C(harles) S(anders)\u2019, in Encyclopedia of Contemporary Literary Theory: Approaches, Scholars, Terms<\/em>, ed. Irena R. Makaryk, Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1993, pp. 441-2.<\/p>\n
Squire, J. C. (1928), Review of D. H. Lawrence Collected Poems<\/em> in D. H. <\/em><\/p>\n
Lawrence: The Critical Heritage<\/em>, ed. R. P. Draper, London: Routledge, 1970, pp.<\/p>\n
299-302.<\/p>\n
Williams, Raymond (1979), \u2018The English Novel from Dickens to Lawrence\u2019, in Politics and <\/em><\/p>\n
Letters: Interviews with New Left Review<\/em>, London: NLB, pp. 243-70.<\/p>\n
Winter, Keith (1936), Impassioned Pygmies<\/em>, New York: Doubleday, Doran and Company.<\/p>\n
Worthen, John, ed (1981), The Rainbow<\/em>, D. H. Lawrence, Harmondsworth: Penguin.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Notes<\/strong><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
[1] Brett had saved the original faces, and the only discrepancy between the description of her 1926 version and its successor is that in the latter\u2019s background there is nothing resembling \u2018the tower of Quattro Venti\u2019 (1933: 275).<\/p>\n
[2] Christ\u2019s have yucca filamentosa leaves and giant lily-of-the-valley heads; Pan\u2019s resemble chrysanthemums; none of these would be flowering when the mountains are snowcapped on the Amalfi coast, reinforcing the scene\u2019s splicing together of different historical times (Lane-Fox 2019).<\/p>\n
[3]\u00a0Consider, for example, \u2018the Neo-Pagans\u2019, the group surrounding Rupert Brooke in Cambridge before the First World War, or the fact that Kenneth Grahame\u2019s 1908 The Wind in the Willows <\/em>includes an encounter of the animals with Pan (Edwards 2017: subsection \u2018The Golden Age in Edwardian Literature\u2019).<\/p>\n
<\/a><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Acknowledgements<\/strong><\/p>\n
With thanks to Sue Reid for her wise and generous guidance on this Chapter, as on the whole process of editing this volume.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Abbreviations<\/strong><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n
Letters of D. H. Lawrence<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
1L<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Letters of D. H. Lawrence Volume I: September 1901\u2013May 1913<\/em>, ed. James T. Boulton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
2L<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Letters of D. H. Lawrence Volume II: June 1913\u2013October 1916<\/em>, eds. George J. Zytaruk and James T. Boulton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
3L<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Letters of D. H. Lawrence Volume III: October 1916\u2013June 1921<\/em>, eds. James T. Boulton and Andrew Robertson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
4L<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Letters of D. H. Lawrence Volume IV: June 1921\u2013March 1924<\/em>, eds. Warren Roberts, James T. Boulton and Elizabeth Mansfield (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
5L<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Letters of D. H. Lawrence Volume V: March 1924\u2013March 1927<\/em>, eds. James T. Boulton and Lindeth Vasey (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
6L<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Letters of D. H. Lawrence Volume VI: March 1927\u2013November 1928<\/em>, eds. James T. Boulton and Margaret H. Boulton with Gerald M. Lacy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
7L<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Letters of D. H. Lawrence Volume VII: November 1928\u2013February 1930<\/em>, eds. Keith Sagar and James T. Boulton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
8L<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Letters of D. H. Lawrence Volume VIII: Previously Uncollected Letters and General Index<\/em>, ed. James T. Boulton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Works of D. H. Lawrence<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Apocalypse and the Writings on Revelation<\/em>, ed. Mara Kalnins (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
AR<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Aaron\u2019s Rod<\/em>, ed. Mara Kalnins (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
BB<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Boy in the Bush<\/em>, with M. L. Skinner, ed. Paul Eggert (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
EmyE<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 England, My England and Other Stories<\/em>, ed. Bruce Steele (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
FLC<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The First and Second Lady Chatterley Novels<\/em>, eds. Dieter Mehl and Christa Jansohn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Fox<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Fox, The Captain\u2019s Doll, The Ladybird<\/em>, ed. Dieter Mehl (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
FWL<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The First \u2018Women in Love\u2019<\/em>, eds. John Worthen and Lindeth Vasey (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
IR<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Introductions and Reviews<\/em>, eds. N. H. Reeve and John Worthen (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
K<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Kangaroo<\/em>, ed. Bruce Steele (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
LAH <\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Love Among the Haystacks and Other Stories<\/em>, ed. John Worthen (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
LCL<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Lady Chatterley\u2019s Lover and A Propos of \u2018Lady Chatterley\u2019s Lover\u2019<\/em>, ed. Michael Squires (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
LEA<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Late Essays and Articles<\/em>, ed. James T. Boulton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
LG<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Lost Girl<\/em>, ed. John Worthen (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
MEH<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Movements in European History<\/em>, ed. Philip Crumpton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
MM<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Mornings in Mexico and Other Essays<\/em>, ed. Virginia Crosswhite Hyde (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
MN<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Mr Noon<\/em>, ed. Lindeth Vasey (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984).<\/p>\n
PFU<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Psychoanalysis and the Unconscious and Fantasia of the Unconscious<\/em>, ed. Bruce Steele (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Plays<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Plays<\/em>, eds. Hans-Wilhelm Schwarze and John Worthen (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
PM<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Paul Morel<\/em>, ed. Helen Baron (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
PO<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Prussian Officer and Other Stories<\/em>, ed. John Worthen (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983).<\/p>\n
1Poems, 2 Poems<\/em> D. H. Lawrence: The Poems, Volumes I and II<\/em>. Ed. Christopher Pollnitz. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
3Poems\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 D. H. Lawrence: The Poems, Volume III<\/em> Uncollected Poems and Early Versions.<\/em> Ed. Christopher Pollnitz. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
PS<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Plumed Serpent<\/em>, ed. L. D. Clark (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Q<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Quetzalcoatl<\/em>, ed. N. H. Reeve (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Paintings\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Paintings of D. H. Lawrence<\/em> (London: Mandrake Press, 1929).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
R<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Rainbow<\/em>, ed. Mark Kinkead-Weekes (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
RDP<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine and Other Essays<\/em>, ed. Michael Herbert (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
SCAL<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Studies in Classic American Literature<\/em>, eds. Ezra Greenspan, Lindeth Vasey and John Worthen (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
SEP<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Sketches of Etruscan Places and Other Italian Essays<\/em>, ed. Simonetta de Filippis (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
SL<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Sons and Lovers<\/em>, eds. Helen Baron and Carl Baron (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
SM<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 St. Mawr and Other Stories<\/em>, ed. Brian Finney (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
SS<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Sea and Sardinia<\/em>, ed. Mara Kalnins (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
STH<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Study of Thomas Hardy and Other Essays<\/em>, ed. Bruce Steele (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
T<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Trespasser<\/em>, ed. Elizabeth Mansfield (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
TI<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Twilight in Italy and Other Essays<\/em>, ed. Paul Eggert (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
VicG<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Vicar\u2019s Garden and Other Stories<\/em>, ed. N. H. Reeve (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
VG<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Virgin and the Gipsy and Other Stories<\/em>, eds. Michael Herbert, Bethan Jones and Lindeth Vasey (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
WL<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Women in Love<\/em>, eds. David Farmer, Lindeth Vasey and John Worthen (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
WP<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The White Peacock<\/em>, ed. Andrew Robertson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
WWRA<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Woman Who Rode Away and Other Stories<\/em>, eds. Dieter Mehl and Christa Jansohn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995).<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The following is the pre-edited version of my chapter in\u00a0The Edinburgh Companion to D. H. Lawrence and the Arts\u00a0(Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2020) which I co-edited with Susan Reid. It is reproduced here by kind permission of Edinburgh University Press. Please find elsewhere on this site the editors’ Introduction to this volume. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2737,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[266],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/catherinebrown.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2684"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/catherinebrown.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/catherinebrown.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/catherinebrown.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/catherinebrown.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2684"}],"version-history":[{"count":17,"href":"https:\/\/catherinebrown.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2684\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4322,"href":"https:\/\/catherinebrown.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2684\/revisions\/4322"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/catherinebrown.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2737"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/catherinebrown.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2684"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/catherinebrown.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2684"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/catherinebrown.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2684"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}