The Rainbow by D.H. Lawrence *

Reading dates: 03 August – 30 December 2013

After giving Lee Child 3*, it may seem insensitive of me to give Lawrence just one. Yet, reading this book was an absolute chore and to this day, I don’t know why I finished it. I suppose the books I read at the same time (15!) gave me strength to continue. Whether that is a good thing or not, I am not going to discuss. I suppose I wanted to hate the book with the knowledge that I read it cover to cover, that I knew it and, for that reason, I am entitled to say what I am going to say. It is poorly written, badly judged in terms of rhythm. The characters, from Lydia to Gudrun, from Anna to Ursula, are not convincing. I do not recognise these women at all. It is full of innuendos. While this may sound great, the novel would benefit from calling a spade a spade. Lawrence is trying to have a soft touch, to be femininely sensitive while showing strength but the result is a poor caricature written by a man deeply embedded in patriarchal structures yet wanting feminine liberation. What happened to the man who wrote Lady Chatterley’s Lover? Thank goodness, that was a few years later and I am glad Lawrence listened and observed a bit more, rather than writing women from his own imagination (as The Rainbow seems to be, a male fantasy). Maybe I should only read late Lawrence. Lady Chatterley was so good, I am going to give him the benefit of the doubt rather than fall out of love, despite the fact that I wasted many an hour on this silly and contemptuous novel.