This is one of those odd books that is difficult to read on its own terms because of how much of its whole history is tied up with its notoriety. Of course, it’s entirely similar to that of Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer and Tropic of Capricorn, and all three of which are now kinds of artifacts of censorship and “decency” more than novels that fully exist on their own. I am not the biggest fan of frank discussions of sex in books because I think that there’s […]
Perhaps only people who are capable of real togetherness have that look of being alone in the universe. The others have a certain stickiness, they stick to the mass.
Lady Chatterly's Lover by D.H. Lawrence