David Herbert Lawrence

Sons and Lovers

Sons and Lovers, a story of working-class England, is D. H. Lawrence’s third novel. It went through various drafts, and was titled “Paul Morel” until the final draft, before being published and met with an indifferent reaction from contemporary critics. Modern critics now consider it to be D. H. Lawrence’s masterpiece, with the Modern Library placing it ninth in its “100 Best English-Language Novels of the 20th Century.”
The novel follows the Morels, a family living in a coal town, and headed by a passionate but boorish miner. His wife, originally from a refined family, is dragged down by Morel’s classlessness, and finds her life’s joy in her children. As the children grow up and start leading lives of their own, they struggle against their mother’s emotional drain on them.
Sons and Lovers was written during a period in Lawrence’s life when his own mother was gravely ill. Its exploration of the Oedipal instinct, frank depiction of working-class household unhappiness and violence, and accurate and colorful depiction of Nottinghamshire dialect, make it a fascinating window into the life of people not often chronicled in fiction of the day.
568 printed pages

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    al mshared an impression2 years ago
    👍Worth reading


    Teddyhas quoted9 months ago
    b4507485269has quotedlast year
    reckon Min­ton’s knocked off, mis­sis,” she cried.
    “Isn’t it sick­enin!” ex­claimed Mrs. Morel in wrath.
    “Ha! But I’n just seed Jont Hutchby.”
    “They might as well have saved their shoe-leather,” said Mrs. Morel. And both wo­men went in­doors dis­gus­ted.
    The col­li­ers, their faces scarcely blackened, were troop­ing home again. Morel hated to go back. He loved the sunny morn­ing. But he had gone to pit to work, and to be sent home again spoilt his tem­per.
    “Good gra­cious, at this time!” ex­claimed his wife, as he entered.
    “Can I help it, wo­man?” he shouted.
    “And I’ve not done half enough din­ner.”
    “Then I’ll eat my bit o’ snap as I took with me,” he bawled pathet­ic­ally. He felt ig­no­mini­ous and sore.
    And the chil­dren, com­ing home from school, would won­der to see their father eat­ing with his din­ner the two thick slices of rather dry and dirty bread-and-but­ter that had been to pit and back.
    Altynay Amansahedovahas quoted2 years ago
    Dur­ing the next week Morel’s tem­per was al­most un­bear­able.

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