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David Herbert Lawrence

Lady Chatterley's Lover

Lady Chatterley's Lover is a novel by D. H. Lawrence written in 1928. Printed privately in Florence in 1928, it was not printed in the United Kingdom until 1960 (other than in an underground edition issued by Inky Stephensen's Mandrake Press in 1929). Lawrence considered calling this book Tenderness at one time and made significant alterations to the original manuscript in order to make it palatable to readers. It has been published in three different versions.
The publication of the book caused a scandal due to its explicit sex scenes, including previously banned four-letter words, and perhaps because the lovers were a working-class male and an aristocratic female.
The story is said to have originated from events in Lawrence's own unhappy domestic life, and he took inspiration for the settings of the book from Ilkeston in Derbyshire where he lived for a while. According to some critics the fling of Lady Ottoline Morrell with “Tiger”, a young stonemason who came to carve plinths for her garden statues, also influenced the story.
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Впечатления

  • LE MAUSUделится впечатлением9 лет назад
    👍Worth reading
    💡Learnt A Lot
    🎯Worthwhile
    💞Loved Up
    🚀Unputdownable
    😄LOLZ

    During my early childhood This was one of the books my grandmother made me read every year!! Started when I was 3 and by 6 I was reading it on my own(using a dictionary for understanding)she taught me how to read with this book!

  • b0985772811делится впечатлением2 года назад
    💡Learnt A Lot
    🎯Worthwhile

  • b9958480645делится впечатлением2 года назад
    👍Worth reading
    🔮Hidden Depths
    🎯Worthwhile

Цитаты

  • Milica Dragicevicцитирует2 месяца назад
    Connie went to the wood directly after lunch. It was really a lovely day, the first dandelions making suns, the first daisies so white. The hazel thicket was a lace-work, of half-open leaves, and the last dusty perpendicular of the catkins. Yellow celandines now were in crowds, flat open, pressed back in urgency, and the yellow glitter of themselves. It was the yellow, the powerful yellow of early summer. And primroses were broad, and full of pale abandon, thick-clustered primroses no longer shy. The lush, dark green of hyacinths was a sea, with buds rising like pale corn, while in the riding the forget-me-nots were fluffing up, and columbines were unfolding their ink-purple ruches, and there were bits of blue bird's eggshell under a bush. Everywhere the bud-knots and the leap of life!
  • Katya Varlamovaцитирует9 лет назад
    ‘And what sort of a good time?’ asked Connie, gazing on him still with a sort of amazement, that looked like thrill; and underneath feeling nothing at all.
  • susyyneitorцитирует3 месяца назад
    But that is how men are! Ungrateful and never satisfied. When you don’t have them they hate you because you won’t; and when you do have them they hate you again, for some other reason. Or for no reason at all, except that they are discontented children, and can’t be satisfied whatever they get, let a woman do what she may.

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