Oh, where do we begin. So D. H. Lawrence is basically the janitor doing Jane Austeni services for the upper crust Englishman of a dying empire (as opposed to the 1800s spinster/"careerwoman"). Same exact thing in all respects : pick a demographic, write faux bullshit "about" it under the mantle of whatever "ideological imperatives". He's no better than the women (or the mainstream socialist morons for that matter), however being a cucky simp instead of a retarded girly he actually puts some work into it. His nonsense is elaborate, florid, tediously balanced and tiresomely recherched (which is not the same as researched). This is a very strong vein of English-language expression, what'd be called kitsch in any other space (but is not called anything specifically in this particularly god-forsaken thorny patch of bitter weeds because there's scant anything else, so there's little need perceived from the inside) ; and it continues happily, in the undisturbed manner of the insensate to the present days. There's a strong vein of nude and rude me-too-ism and wanna-be-ism born of utter and unfixable poverty in English because that's, ultimately, all that English ever was : the coincidental byproduct of utter and unfixable poverty.
On that basis one could readily dismiss Women in Loveii with something terse like "it's only quality is Glenda Jackson's tits" (which aren't all that bad nor would it land exactly far from the truth). The sum-total "revolutionary" thought in the socio-sexual morass here presentediii is little more than The Buller-Podington Compacts ; except not naturally occurring, like it actually has historicallyiv, but most contrivedly, and for the worst of all possible reasons : pecuniaryv insufficiency. A dude's not capable of holding his own harem, goes the logic, for being too poor and stupid and insubstantial ; but if two joined forces and made of each other's wife the other's other ? What then ? Maybe if they corner her between the two of them blondy might be stomped out of her retarded "self-actualizing" bullshit, all that "being in herself sufficient" crap she drones on about ? Maybe the perfect self-abasement of the "artiste" could be spread around, like butter, dati cu ea subtire s-ajunga pina-n fund ? Maybe onwards an "upwards" pretense could be maintained by simply making the flats smaller, more tightly packed, "efficiently"-er ? Maybe the rolling brownouts make everyone not notice it's ceased being a city long ago, because look, you can't sayvi there's no power ?
It's nothing short of reprehensible, altogether, thoroughly -- men who can't enslave women shouldn't, and climbing on each other's shoulders to pretend to almost passably adequate tallness from behind a borrowed coat is the very heart and core of filth, misery, sin and error. Which is after all what reprehensible even means, something so utterly fucked it should be excised and the puss burned.
I haven't been this utterly repulsed by characters ever since the last time I took a look at contemporary scar tissue ; excepting for Oliver Reed's creation, which is genuinely interesting and sticks together, though sadly is marred by the irrespirable company. Mayhap if he were rescued out of this deplorable crew and got to live his own life ?———
- Or whichever Bronte sister, if you prefer. Not like there's any difference anyways. [↩]
- 1969, by Ken Russell, with Oliver Reed, Glenda Jackson and some dumbass immature blonde. [↩]
- Correctly summing up Lawrence's original, for that matter. [↩]
- See for instance Adam Worth's amusements with Kitty Flynn and her friends. [↩]
- Technically the correct word would have been "substantial", but you're so apt to miss the real manifestations of substance, such as not being fucking poor, that I'm stuck. There's no way to be a man of substance without being a man of substance, buncha suptstancin' cucks on a stock already! [↩]
- Here's an abridged thesaurus : The .best spamblast, The alleged crisis of the supposed engineering, Coltunasi, The last blog, thelastpsychiatrist.com - Bad At Math. Adnotated, The life & times, poolside, Pesk-u, in all timelines, and dimensions!, Pimp. By Robert Beck aka Iceberg Slim. Adnotated without permission. Chapter 13 -- The Iceberg, The problem of complexity. Deal with it. [↩]