"Breaking all Ties: Paul Morel's Quest for Manhood." -Edward Borsheim The profound relationships that the characters share in D. H. Lawrence's Sons and Lovers serve as the powerful core of the novel. Whether influenced by psychoanalytical conventions or not, Lawrence creatively portrays the true nature of psychical impotence throughout this work. Though this is the central issue of the novel, the rather short relationship that Paul shares with Baxter Dawes is worthy of speculation. This relationship could be Paul's attempt to resolve his unconscious oedipal problems that he has suffered throughout his life. Baxter Dawes is much like Paul's father Walter Morel. Baxter and Clara, much like Walter and Gertrude, married pre-maturely. Clara, much like Gertrude, did not take the time to really get to know the true nature of her husband. Baxter mirrors Walter as a man who cannot reveal his true feelings to his spouse. Both men feel neglected by their wives, acting out their frustrations in negative ways. Rather than revealing their true feelings, they try to bully their wives into loving them. Consequently, Baxter and Walter only succeed in pushing their wives further away. Paul seems fascinated by Baxter Dawes. At first, their relationship is hateful and violent. Gradually, Paul begins to feel guilty for being with Clara. Paul eventually feels sorry for Baxter who is lost in life without Clara as much as Paul is lost with Clara. The emptiness of life is the essence the two men share in their relationship. Eventually, Paul takes it upon himself to get to know and console Baxter Dawes. Conceivably, Paul is sub-consciously making a connection between Baxter and Clara's failed relationship and that of his own parents. Whether Paul realizes it or not, he wants to make things right between Clara and Baxter just as he would have had his parents truly love each other. If Paul can help Baxter become strong again towards Clara, he will fill in the void where he could not help his father's relationship with his mother. Hypothetically, by successfully uniting Baxter and Clara in reality, Paul takes one step towards sub-consciously resolving the division that he nurtured between his parents. Thus, subconsciously he is making peace with his father who he has hated all his life. Psychoanalytically speaking, this success could sub-consciously replace/erase the failed relationship that caused him to hate his father and intimately love his mother. Ed Borsheim Erin A. Olinick 10/5/99 Journal Entry What I find to be truly interesting about Sons and Lovers is the intensely painful and revelatory portrayal of the complexity of human relationships, a concept that I expect to see repeated and reevaluated in much of Lawrence's work that I have yet to read. I especially value the ideas in this book because there are no absolutes, no certainties-nothing that I feel compelled to accept as definite truth. It's amazingly freeing to read such literature when one is used to "siding" with a particular character or force in a book simply for the sake of argument. It is nearly impossible to do that with Lawrence. His words are as ambiguous and frustrating as reality; they repeatedly kick you in the head. One of the subjects I am most drawn to in Sons and Lovers is the matter of marriage, whether it is literal (Mr. and Mrs. Morel) or merely hypothetical, as I think of it in the unions between Miriam and Paul and Clara and Paul. I understand marriage to be quite destructive in terms of one's autonomy. It is a personality constrictor, which prevents the realization of one's full potential. Independence is necessary in order to preserve control, and yet, human beings instinctively need to feel a sense of rootedness or belonging. This notion appears numerous times in the book: Paul belongs to Miriam, Clara recognizes that she "never fully had [Paul]," and he no more belongs to Clara than she belongs to him, Clara feels that Dawes belongs to her, and Walter is described as looking as though "nobody owned him." This desire to own and be owned, to "have and to hold," is rather mechanical-an unrationalized acceptance of society's expectations. Miriam, however hard she tries to snub such conventions, cannot fully liberate herself from them. Clara, on the other hand, has already managed to extricate herself from "the institution's" dominant pattern; she exists on the fringe of society in her rather lowly divorced, suffragette state. In this state Clara is not a threat to Paul's independence, so they are free to "receive the baptism of life, each through the other" (405). Within the confines of her societally sanctioned marriage to Dawes however, Clara reverts to the "self-sacrificial" (425) notion of marriage as a voluntary surrender of one's own will; the same concept that Miriam follows in her relationship with Paul. Miriam seems proud to sacrifice herself to Paul, yielding to it as if it were an inherent duty. Paul, however, cannot comply because she wants his soul so desperately that it ceases to be his decision to give it. All Oedipal theory aside for a moment, I wonder if Mrs. Morel isn't just a convenient reason for Paul to remain detached from other women. The differences between men and women are illuminated in the male and female characters' perception of marriage and belonging. As Simone de Beauvior said, "marriage diminishes man but it almost always annihilates woman." Could it be that women are more interested in and have a greater need for close human relationships than man? I would argue that possibility wholeheartedly in accordance to the ideas presented in Sons and Lovers if it weren't for one sentence on page 413: "None of [Paul] himself remained-no Clara, no Miriam, no mother that fretted him." Paul defines himself in terms of these women, as if he were incomplete without them. He too is a mundane figure of reality with the need to submit his identity in order to gain wholeness. Society is a complex and horribly controlling thing. It forever persists in the crevices of the subconscious as something to measure oneself up against. One thing I have learned for certain in Sons and Lovers is this: it may be simple to question and criticize social obligations, but it is always difficult to discount them. Erica Flynn Although there were several times in the novel Sons and Lovers when Mr. Morel's temper got out of hand, one experience probably is most memorable. During one of their fights, Mr. Morel threw a drawer at his wife, cutting her forehead severely and almost injuring their baby. This changed his place in the household. Mr. Morel threw the drawer out of anger, al most as an instinct. When he tried to help Mrs. Morel with her bruise, she made it clear that she did not need his help. This incident made him weaker. His wife did not cry over it, she remained strong. And, although she told her kids that she walked into something, they didn't' seem to believe her. This isolated Mr. Morel from his family. Mr. Morel had a feeling of guilt because of what he did. It didn't matter what he tried to tell himself, he knew what he did was wrong. He was supposed to be there to protect his family, but he did the opposite by hurting them. He didn't' apologize. He said that if was her fault, "nothing, however, could prevent his inner consciousness inflicting on him the punishment which ate into his spirit like rust." He drank to make himself feel better. But the drinking was despised by his wife. If his wife didn't like it, either did his kids. On page 62 of the novel, the alienation of Mr. Morel is stressed. He depended on his wife when he got sick. Things were peaceful. When the third baby is born, though, Morel has an even lower position in the house. "His wife was casting him off, half regretfully, but relentlessly; casting him off and turning now for love and life to the children." Erin A. Olinick 10/14/99 Reaction to "The Merry Go Round" "The Merry Go Round" is an oppressive experience. Elements of monotony, horror, mechanization, and powerlessness abound. The riders represent status and class hierarchy; they seem mindless, almost as if hypnotized, with their mouths agape in sightless revulsion. Each is engaged in a mad, fruitless pursuit of the horse before it. Among the rather indistinguishable bourgeoisie looking bunch are men in military uniforms, which not only supply an added flair of tyranny, but also remind me of "The Prussian Officer": rigid, lifeless, controlling, yet obedient. In an attempt to apply the sexual (and homosexual) undertones of "The Prussian Officer" to this painting, I noted the deviance and uncomfortable intimacy in which the riders are seated, pressed up against one another in disgust, each consumed in a self-imposed isolation to curb the lust they decipher as being so evil. The contrast of light and dark is likewise rather perverse. The figures of the horses are painted without shading, emphasizing their steely robotic sheen and carnal haunches and buttocks against the darkness that blurs the distinction between the other shapes. Destruction looms behind the merry go round: unstoppable ensuing madness like the smoky mushroom cloud of a nuclear bomb, like self-inflicted annihilation as a result of repressing one's physical desire. There is nothing natural, sensual, or intimate about "The Merry Go Round." I can see how Lawrence might have appreciated this painting for its intense portrayal of humankind in the modern world engulfed in abstraction. In their crazed pursuit for whatever, may it be technology, status, control, or reason, the riders only succeed in further disassociating themselves from one another D.H. Lawrence Ed Borsheim Dr. Gertzman October 14, 1999 Response Paper: "The Merry Go Round" "The Merry Go Round" painting seems to represent the mechanized notion of post-war society that D. H. Lawrence depicts in Aaron's Rod. The carnival ride itself is a machine that redundantly spins in circles indefinitely. The horse on the left, which resembles the buttocks of a human, suggests that the people on the ride are not separate but are connected to the machine. Therefore, they are part of a machine that does not progress towards any destination or goal in life. This mechanical connection suggests a loss of human individuality resulting in a mass mind of drones. This loss of individuality also connotes a loss of sexual intimacy due to this mass mind notion. The circular chase of the machine is sexually charged with lust as the masses chase each other in a quest for impersonal sexual gratification. D. H. Lawrence may like this painting because it accurately portrays the society that he abhorrently lived in. In his novel Aaron's Rod, Lawrence portrays this sterile mass mind notion. This notion is especially and ironically apparent in the lifestyles of the bohemian set. All, save Lilly, seem to be a part of this impersonal machine of society. Supposedly bohemian in nature, they ironically contribute to the machine-engagements and marriage have no substance as they mindlessly have affairs with each other in their microcosmic group. Lilly, on the other hand, quite despises this mass mind notion and fervently believes in the importance of the individuality of man. Lilly, who personifies Lawrence, realizes that this mass mind redundantly spins in circles and has no chance of forward progress. Jamie Barnes September 11, 1997 In his short story "The Fox," what is Lawrence trying to say about relationships? Is he, in Henry's thoughts at the end of the story, saying that it is the woman's place to be submissive to the man in the relationship? If we take Henry's thoughts as correct then we are to assume that the woman, Nellie in this case, is to give up her will to the man who loves her because that is how the male/female relationship works. The man is the conquer, the predator, who must overcome and seduce his victim into giving herself body and soul to him for both their goods. This would explain why Nellie believes that Henry resembles the Fox, and also why Banford looks like a chicken, and she a rabbit. Both are natural prey of the fox, and thus both are prey to Henry. But if Henry's views about the love between a man and a woman are true, why does Nellie have a psychological dependency on Jill and her well-being? After all, Jill is a woman not a man. But Banford clearly has the type of psychological control over Nellie--as she states at the end of the story--that Henry so desperately wants over her. Henry recognizes that Bandford is his intellectual and psychological equal where Nellie is concerned; and because she is his equal where Nellie is concerned, Henry recognizes that the only way to end her control over Nellie is to kill her. But is the story's apparent message about the love relationship true ? Is it the womans place to be the submissive in a relationship? And also, why have Nellie stubbornly resist Henry's attempts to claim her will at the end of the story if it is her "place" to be submissive. Maybe Nellie resists Henry's control because she recognizes that that kind of control in a relationship is destructive to the individual who submits. After all, some part of Nellie was destroyed by Jill's death. ________________________________________ Within "The Fox," March's dream about Bandord's death strikes me as extremely significant. It is as if the dream foreshadows not only the actual death of Banford, but also the changing role of Henry. As Henry moves from a position of little importance in March's life to one of all emcompassing power, her perception of him as a fox seems even more poignant. In the coffin which she uses in her dream to bury Banford, there is only the fox skin to cover her. I notice how the skin is placed "on top of the body, so that it seemed to make a whole ruddy, fiery coverlet"(265), ironically suggesting the new position of Henry as above, or surpassing that of Banford. The fact that the dream is horrifying to March seems significant as well. She is described as being in "agony and dazed bewilderment"(264). To me, this sugggests March's unwillingness to fall under the power of Henry, but also of her inability to fight that power. March becomes like a trapped animal, unable to retain freedom once caught. In her subconscious the truth has already been revealed. And perhaps it should be admitted that she may not want to fight Henry's power, even if she were able. I believe that despite her fear, or, in spite of her fear, she wants, at least in part, that which Henry can give her. My assertion that March wants what Henry, or "the fox" can give her rests largely on her response to the dead fox which she encounters the morning after her dream. She is "bemused" and characterized as "wondering, wondering, wondering, over his long fine muzzle"(265). This apparent sense of splendor and wonder which the appearance of the fox causes, shows a willingness and desire to submit to his power. There are perhaps other ways to interpret March's emotions, but one cannot deny the image of sexual desire in the "thrust forward" and biting "deep, deep into the living prey"(266) which March envisions. --Nicole Friedman I would like to respond to the notion of lesbianism in the short story "The Fox" by D.H. Lawrence. I think it is safe to say that March and Banford enjoyed a loving relationship that surely possessed some qualities of lesbianism. However, I don't think it can be called a lesbian relationship simply because the feelings were not shared equally by each of them. I think that Banford depended on March to fill some emotional void that a man could not. The story leads us to believe that the two women slept together from time to time. This is not to say that it was a sexual relationship. Sleeping in the same bed, was comforting for the both of them but particularly for Banford. It seems that when Henry announced that he and March were to be married, Banford's world sort of crumbles. She becomes infuriated and a significant inner strength surfaces. Prior to this announcement we had never seen Banford behave in this manner. Had Banford lived to see March and Henry married, she would have surely died from a broken heart. On the other hand, March needed for Banford to die in order to go on and be with Henry because she grew dependent on Banford's dependence on her. In other words March needed to be needed. I don't doubt she loved Banford but not in the way that Banford loved her. Though March enjoyed the 'tug of war' Henry and Banford engaged in, she ultimately gave in to her strong desire to be with a man. March felt guilty about her love not equating Banford's and this is why she was determined not to lose herself in Henry. In the end, however, her own wants and needs overwhelmed her and she became encompassed by Henry. --Nichole Jones ____________________________________ D.H. Lawrence's "The Fox" Looking at the passage in which Banford and March examine the dead fox in the story "The Fox," Lawrence suggests that Henry, since the fox is associated with him, has an animal-like instinct to prey. This is illustrated when March examines the beauty of the creature and its snout with a mouth full of white teeth used to "thrust forward and bite with,--deep, deep into the living prey, to bite and bite the blood" (266). This suggests that the fox is designed to hunt and prey; it is in his physiognomy and instinct to behave the way he does. Therefore, it is not the fox's fault that it preys on the chickens because it was designed by nature to do this--the reader shouldn't blame the fox for doing what comes naturally. Banford almost makes a speech which supports this when she takes pity on the fox saying, "Poor brute! . . . If it wasn't such a thieving wretch, you would feel sorry for it" (265). In an earlier passage, there is another hint at the possibility of there being this instinct to prey inherent in the fox and Henry when Lawrence writes "even before you come in sight of your quarry, there is a strange battle . . . Your soul, as a hunter, has gone out to fasten on the soul of a deer, even before you see any deer" (242). This seems to suggest that there is something going on besides the actual act of hunting which cannot be controlled. Since the fox epitomizes Henry, Lawrence may be trying to say that it is man's nature to hunt and do what Henry has done--it is his natural disposition. It is not necessarily Henry or man's fault for the way he acted towards March. It is hard to believe that Henry actually wanted harm to come to March, and the damage that is done to March seems like a by-product--not an intended result. Killing Banford, however, was definitely murder, but appears more like an animal protecting his territory and securing a mate by getting rid of other possible suitors. Again looking at nature, the fox hunts to survive; he takes the chickens to allow himself to live. In some ways, Henry is also given life through his hunting. It makes him more of a man and he comes to the realization of the power he has as a man to make a woman vulnerable. The idea of a female mate being submissive to a male is also part of the nature of many animals. Lawrence could also be saying that the woman completes the man and must be passive according to the nature of our beings, and this is something that happens in humans the way it happens in animals. It is not particularly any one's fault; rather, it is the nature of the beast. Aaron F. Sinkovich sinkovia@mnsfld.edu From Nicole Friedman: In "Cherry Robbers," once again, images of darkness are present. I cannot say with absolute or even remote certainty that I understand what this poem is saying. However, I am drawn to it very strongly. In the first line of the poem, it is established that under the tree there is a darkness. This darkness is seen as existing beneath the "dark boughs" (26). From this point on, I view the actions under the tree as of a sexual nature, leading one from joy to pain, through the act of temptation. The offering of the "scarlet fruit" and the girl who laughs, only to, perhaps, cry, intrigues me. What is Lawrence saying? "Dog Tired" is a different sort of poem from, (for example) "Cherry Robbers." In "Dog Tired" I sense an alternative form of sexual longing. The images are directed more towards the sun, and light. Lawrence wishes the object of his desire would come "To the sun...Into the low sun" (25). I find this expressing a desire more toward a sexual comforting than a sexual fulfillment. I enjoyed this poem tremendously. The image of longing, not for sex, but merely for comfort, is beautiful. I especially enjoyed the image of the two "lovers" lying in the hay "till the green/Sky ceased to quiver, and lost its tired sheen" (25). --------------------------------------------------- from Doug Bowes I preferred the poems "Cherry Robbers", "Song of a Man Who has come through", and "Tortoise Shout". Each of them show a resignation to the dark sun referred to by Charles Rossman. In these poems the darkness, is a primal, instinctive force of desire for carnal knowledge that is the fuel for these poems. In "Cherry Robbers" the speaker is tempted by the girl with the fruit indicating an allusion to Adam and Eve. The speaker knows the danger that is attached to the fruit he girl is offering him by the bodies of the three dead birds lying beneath the cherries. Still he is driven to go to her and is fascinated by the possibility of gaining the carnal knowledge that he lusts after. "Song of a Man Who has come through" is filled with images of giving into a force of nature that is represented by the wind. The speaker hopes that by resigning himself to the wind he will force himself through the emotional and social stumbling blocks that prevent him from gaining the thing he most desires and satisfying his primal instinct. Although the other poems do contain images and references of the cost and the pain that go hand in hand with giving in to these urges, neither of them express this better than "Tortoise Shout". The repeated suggestion of being "crucified into sex" illustrates the pain and humiliation the male tortoise and the speaker feels about the rituals of courtship and the whole process of mating altogether. These three poems make, for me, a sincere and vivid picture of what one would feel at the time of coupling with their chosen mate. The irresistible calling to gain that inner, carnal knowing and the pain associated with giving into those instinctive temptations. It is a time when humans were one with nature and acted upon instinct in order to live. They had no need of the social rules and norms that are in existence today. Today, the human race is not as free as it once was. The more we know about the world, the more technology we gain, the further become from true happiness. Lawrence mentions the Bushmen in Grapes, as an example human existence in the time of the vine. The Bushmen were a simple, tribal people. They, like our native Americans, were closer to nature because of the simple way in which they lived. They communed with nature, not abusing it as other civilizations have done. They lived by instinct, not by a complex system of laws. Lawrence says that the Bushmen have forgotten more than we will ever know. This is a truth which is very hard to accept, yet a truth it is. As humans become more advanced, they lose the ability to react on their instincts. Instincts become a thing to fear and avoid. Laws, norms and mores, are made to restrain our instincts, and we become a repressed people. Lawrence views repression as a bad thing. It strangles our true selves and causes us to be truly unhappy. Bringing this back to the idea of a dark sun, it seems to me that we all have a "dark sun" within us-- the ability to act upon instinct and be at harmony with our body and it's needs. Lawrence wants us to embrace our dark suns, not flee from it out of fear of retribution by society. The purpose of these poems has been to show us that our instinctual side is not an evil force, but one that is natural to all beings. Debbie Chilson What is it about the fish and the snake (in the poems of those names) which equates them with natural vitality and the sacred? Lawrence equates many of nature's beings with natural vitality and the sacred. Two examples of this equation can be seen in the poems "Snake" and "Fish." In the poem "Snake" Lawrence encounters the snake within the mystery and intrigue of a "deep, strange-scented shade" (134). This aura of mystique gives to the snake a quality of wonder. He becomes much more than a slimy, slithering, sinister creature; he is majestic, beautiful, drinking "as cattle do" (135), "mus[ing]" as if he were capable of sublime knowledge surpassing the human scope. Beyond being from the earth, Lawrence reveals the snake as one with the earth: "Being earth-brown, earth golden from the burning bowels of/the earth" (135). This natural vitality reaches through the realm of the ordinary, making the snake "like a god, unseeing" (136). The snake even elicits a strange fear from the poet, a fear which is based in fascination. By Lawrence's description, one gets the sensation that the snake contains a knowledge which humans can never, nor will ever, be capable of attaining. He comes from "the dark door of the secret earth" (136), and will disappear again into that enigma of strange and powerful knowledge, "like a king,/Like a king in exhile" (137). The poem "Fish" further empahsizes the equation of an animal to natural vitality and the sacred. Lawrence speaks of the fish as a being at one with the element of water. The water, or "naked element" (144), becomes "like a lover" (145) to the fish who merges with it in a way man cannot understand. Though the water is compared to a lover, Lawrence stresses the world of the fish as one "Without love" (145), containing "Joie de vivre, and fear, and food,/All without love" (145). By this description Lawrence seems to be showing the wonder of the underwater world, a world in which love has no power. Lawrence further states of the fish, "He is a rare one, but he belongs" (146). In this sense, the fish becomes what Lawrence deems as admirable--a being who can be itself, be true to itself, be whole unto itself, and still belong to its element (as humans never can). The fish truly becomes a creature "in the know" (146). The fish is sacred in that it was "Born before God was love,/Or life knew loving" (146). It becomes a life force older and wiser than life itself. The fish is a "grey, monotonous soul in the water" (147), and the poet is not ashamed to admit, "I didn't know his God/...Fish are beyond me" (147). Fish are yet another enigma to the human mind, possessing beauty and inspiring awe in those who dare to contemplate their existence. As the poem closes, a final provocative image links the fish to the idea of the sacred as Lawrence writes: "In the beginning/Jesus was called The Fish/And in the end" (149). --Nicole Friedman The vitality of the universe is very important to Birkin and Ursula in Women in Love. Indeed, the very nature of their relationship stems from it. Birkin, especially, wants their relationship to be what he calls a "star-equilibrium--"he and Ursula are to seperate forces, self-sustaining, but supportive and connected in a vital way to one another. In keeping with this theme of the vitality of the universe, both Birkin and Ursula have a special relationship to nature. For Birkin, nature is an escape; it is the first place he runs to after Hermione tries to kill him. Birkin recognizes the vitality and power of nature, and seeks comfort in it. However, Birkin cannot connect with nature as the animals do, because he has a level of awareness that animals cannot possess, that prevents a connection of the type Birkin desires. Birkin also sees nature as something greater than humanity, and at times, wishes that all of humanity would be destroyed by it. This failure to connect does not stop either Birkin or Ursula in their effort to have a "natural," or rather "unconventional" relationship. Both, recognizing the danger of an "unnatural," or "conventional," "mechanical," seek to define their relationship in opposition to these qualities. This aspect of their relationship is best symbolized on page 310 in the "Excurse" chapter. In a fit of rage Ursula throws the rings that Birkin has given her in the mud. She leaves him but returns shortly, in a more even temper, with a flower which she gives to Birkin as a symbol of her love. The rings can be viewed as symbols of the conventional, possessive relationship that both are struggling to cast aside. The flower is a symbol of nature. Ursula's action of presenting it to Birkin is a sign that she is ready to abandon the conventional and embrace the kind of relationship that Birkin holds ideal (the star-equlibrium). Gerald is just one character in Women in Love who rejects the vitality, that Birkin and Ursula embrace. This has a deadly effect on his life. Gerald, unlike the former, embraces the conventional, the mechanical way of life. Order and organization are the key to his way of life; the "machine is Gerald's God." He is the epitome of the "northern" qualities that Birkin sees as just one type of destruction for humans. Gerald rejects Birkin's offer of love, and consequently rejects the vitality the natural (as opposed to mechanical) type of life that he offers as well. In rejecting Birkin, Gerald has doomed himself to the consequences of living a mechanical, industrial life. His relationship with Gudrun becomes a battle of the wills, not the star-equilibrium of Birkin and Ursulas. Gerald recognizes his inability to live any other type of life except one driven by order and will, and is wearied by the realiztion that the rest of his life will be a mechanical one. The only way to escape this kind of life, he believes, is to keep climbing until he has no choice but to succumb to the cold snow around him. --Jamie Barnes In the poems "Snake" and "Fish," Lawrence tells us that the snake and fish have a sacredness and natural vitality. Lawrence establishes this connection with sacredness in "Snake" by showing the connection the animal has with nature and the world. When Lawrence writes "being earth brown, earth golden from the burning bowels of the earth," he shows that the snake is part of the world and life; it contains in it part of life and the life-force. Even though it is poisonous, it does not deserve to die because of this. As part of life, the snake is sacred and deserves to be respected. When the poet throws the stick at the snake, he takes this for granted. When Lawrence writes "And I thought of the albatross," (Selected Poetry 136) Lawrence makes an allusion to "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" and the respect of nature that this poem says humans must have for nature. Lawrence says in this poem that the snake has a right to live in this world just as much as we do because it is part of life and therefore sacred. He further supports this idea in "Fish," when he says of the water-serpent, "He's a rare one, but he belongs!" In this poem, Lawrence recognizes also that he cannot know what makes these animals work. We cannot think we are better than them or that we know more than them because we can't know their god. In the end, there are things about this world which we cannot know, but they must be respected and held sacred because they are a part of this world. Aaron F. Sinkovich In the section of "The Prussian Officer" immediately following the captain's death, Lawrence describes an abundance of golden light. However, the orderly cannot connect with that light. He is separate from it, surrounded by darkness. He looks toward the light and yearns for it, but he feels separate from it, and he seems to sense that he can never connect with it again. There are also many elements of repulsion and fear in Lawrence's description of nature in this section. The orderly awakens to the sound of a little bird tapping. Lawrence describes this bird not as hopping happily, but rather as "creeping." This is not a way in which we normally describe birds. It gives us a sense that the orderly is revolted by the happiness and the freedom that the bird has and that he himself can never experience again. Lawrence also describes two squirrels playing cheerfully, and it is a very pretty image, but then one squirrel stops to stare at the orderly and at that point Lawrence's description takes on an almost demonic quality: it "stares" at him, its ears "prick up," its "clawey little hands clings to the bark," and it breast is "reared." The orderly sees these qualities in the squirrel and panics. The world outside of himself frightens him. He knows he can never return to it. All of this tells us that the orderly is in a state of confusion. He doesn't know what step to take next. He knows what he has done, but he doesn't seem to feel guilty. Rather, he is frightened by his the world that led him to this action. He yearns for the kind of bright, quiet, beautiful life that he had before all of the stuff with the captain started. Yet, he knows that he will never find that sort of peace again. He is unable even to approach the light, let alone to live in it. Instead, he is imprisoned in darkness, fear and doubt. There he must stay until he dies. In the section of "The Prussian Officer" immediately following the captain's death, Lawrence describes an abundance of golden light. However, the orderly cannot connect with that light. He is separate from it, surrounded by darkness. He looks toward the light and yearns for it, but he feels separate from it, and he seems to sense that he can never connect with it again. There are also many elements of repulsion and fear in Lawrence's description of nature in this section. The orderly awakens to the sound of a little bird tapping. Lawrence describes this bird not as hopping happily, but rather as "creeping." This is not a way in which we normally describe birds. It gives us a sense that the orderly is revolted by the happiness and the freedom that the bird has and that he himself can never experience again. Lawrence also describes two squirrels playing cheerfully, and it is a very pretty image, but then one squirrel stops to stare at the orderly and at that point Lawrence's description takes on an almost demonic quality: it "stares" at him, its ears "prick up," its "clawey little hands clings to the bark," and it breast is "reared." The orderly sees these qualities in the squirrel and panics. The world outside of himself frightens him. He knows he can never return to it. All of this tells us that the orderly is in a state of confusion. He doesn't know what step to take next. He knows what he has done, but he doesn't seem to feel guilty. Rather, he is frightened by his the world that led him to this action. He yearns for the kind of bright, quiet, beautiful life that he had before all of the stuff with the captain started. Yet, he knows that he will never find that sort of peace again. He is unable even to approach the light, let alone to live in it. Instead, he is imprisoned in darkness, fear and doubt. There he must stay until he dies. --Jennifer L. Miller