What a sheer delight for me to get such a treat from D.H. Lawrence’s work. I had previously read The Rainbow, which intrigued me so much that I finished the last half of the book in one sitting during a bus ride. However, Women In Love elevated my experience further. Throughout the course of fewer than five hundred pages, I laughed, I praised, I loathed, I sighed. I deeply sympathised with Ursula, profoundly conflicted about Birkin, completely devastated by Gerald and found myself despised Gudrun as all is unravelled. Though D.H. Lawrence often veered into lengthy ruminations on death, hate and love that tested my patience, the pull of his narrative was too strong to resist. Each chapter left me hungry for more, and before I knew it, I was staying up past midnight to finish the last hundred pages. With Women In Love, D.H. Lawrence has once again woven his spell, winning a devoted admirer for his timeless works.
The first book of 2025! Excellent as it is: great composition, plot & colour palette. It’s dark, cutesy and humorous—everything you could ask for in a good graphic novel.
The first book by D.H. Lawrence that I ever read left me surprised by how unconventional his work is, especially for his time. His prose is rich with imagery and poetically layered. Initially, I found the complex relationships among the Brangwen couples to be somewhat ridiculous; they all love each other deeply yet constantly cause each other pain & caught in their inner turmoil. There are several pages filled with religious musings that I had little interest in. However, as Ursula enters the story, there is a noticeable shift in Lawrence’s writing—it becomes more sensual and sensitive than before. He deliberately writes about sexual desire, yet it all seems abstract and aesthetically pleasing, which I genuinely admire. Despite the plot's shortcomings, D.H. Lawrence reignited my love for twentieth-century English literature after a long hiatus from reading it.
I have mixed feelings about this book. On one hand, I appreciate how it presents various theories and summarizes different research; the anecdotes are also moving and inspiring on different levels. On the other hand, I’m not a fan of its incoherence and repetitiveness. Reading this book made me realize that I’m not alone in my belief that people with chronic mental illness should be listened to and regarded as human beings seeking connection and societal change, rather than being liberally medicated without additional support.
This is an intimate yet challenging read. Linda Gray Sexton comes across as a loving and highly self-aware woman who simply needs a little more love and understanding in her life. Her life is overshadowed by a legacy of suicide, which feels even more heartbreaking considering the loss she has endured since this book was published. Despite the difficulties she has faced over the years, I admire her for maintaining such a warm heart after all.
"The suicide "goes away", and the survivors are forever in the wrong. They are like the damned, who can never make amends, who have no prospect of grace." - Janet Malcolm vividly illustrated how biography comes to life, focusing on Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes—or rather, on the biographers who pursued their stories. Malcolm evidently draws to the magnetic force of Hughes as many women did in his lifetime and also reveals her fascination with Hughes's letters. However, she dissected the complicated narratives surrounding Plath and Hughes skillfully. The author engaged with various witnesses, extracting essential elements for her writing and reconstructing their conversations in such a fascinating way. I devoured, swallowed each chapter with passion. My only criticisms are that the final chapter did not provide much insight into the essay, and she abruptly questioned the reliability of the evidence regarding Hughes's abusive actions toward Plath, a topic that resurfaced in the recent book by Emily Van Duyne (Loving Sylvia Plath). Thus she proved her stand but did not make me sympathize more with Hughes in this literary feud.
The ambiguity often associated with poetry allows Frieda Hughes to express herself freely while sharing the story of her life, ensuring her privacy remains intact. Although I enjoyed reading the book, it is a brief work that only touches on the surface of her experiences. I found myself wishing for a deeper exploration and connection within each poem, as none truly stood out, despite her beautifully handpicked words.
I was also surprised by the insights into Hughes's relationship with her stepmother, which I had not encountered elsewhere. However, the collection seems to lack self-reflection and offers little resolution to the various issues she presents from her life.
Couldn't find this ebook on Kobo and had to read it on my iPad through Kindle instead. This book is quite an achievement to be published, especially considering the limited access to any paper trail on Assia (Wevill) Gutmann. The article presents Assia as a woman with a rich history, rather than just a footnote in the story of the most celebrated couple of the twentieth century. She was someone's daughter and friend, also incredibly talented. I felt a deep sense of sorrow for her. There were numerous occasions when she could have left Hughes but ultimately ended her life tragically. Ted Hughes is portrayed in this book as a likely narcissist who repeatedly failed to keep his promises, contradicted everything he had said yet romanticized his ex-lover and wife in his work while deflecting blame from himself. Instead of portraying Assia's life as the typical story of a naive woman with a doomed fate, this biography aims to bring justice to Assia Gutmann. The book, which is the only comprehensive study of Assia, has earned a five-star rating from me.