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The Lost Girl
A classic Lawrence novel of sensual awakening and the yearning for freedom, and winner of the 1920 James Tait Black Memorial Prize.The daughter of well-to-do trades people in the fictional mining town of Woodhouse, Alvina Houghton struggles to find excitement in her provincial surroundings and worries that she is condemned to become an old maid. After plans to elope with her lover to Australia and train as a nurse in London lead to nothing, she joins a traveling theater group and succumbs to the charms of the dark, passionate Italian Ciccio.This edition also contains pictures, personal notes, and other critical primary source material.
400 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1920
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1902 people want to read
About the author
D.H. Lawrence
2,084 books4,178 followersDavid Herbert Richards Lawrence was an English writer of the 20th century, whose prolific and diverse output included novels, short stories, poems, plays, essays, travel books, paintings, translations, literary criticism, and personal letters. His collected works represent an extended reflection upon the dehumanizing effects of modernity and industrialisation. In them, Lawrence confronts issues relating to emotional health and vitality, spontaneity, human sexuality and instinct.
Lawrence's opinions earned him many enemies and he endured official persecution, censorship, and misrepresentation of his creative work throughout the second half of his life, much of which he spent in a voluntary exile he called his "savage pilgrimage." At the time of his death, his public reputation was that of a pornographer who had wasted his considerable talents. E. M. Forster, in an obituary notice, challenged this widely held view, describing him as "the greatest imaginative novelist of our generation." Later, the influential Cambridge critic F. R. Leavis championed both his artistic integrity and his moral seriousness, placing much of Lawrence's fiction within the canonical "great tradition" of the English novel. He is now generally valued as a visionary thinker and a significant representative of modernism in English literature.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/D.H._Law...
Lawrence's opinions earned him many enemies and he endured official persecution, censorship, and misrepresentation of his creative work throughout the second half of his life, much of which he spent in a voluntary exile he called his "savage pilgrimage." At the time of his death, his public reputation was that of a pornographer who had wasted his considerable talents. E. M. Forster, in an obituary notice, challenged this widely held view, describing him as "the greatest imaginative novelist of our generation." Later, the influential Cambridge critic F. R. Leavis championed both his artistic integrity and his moral seriousness, placing much of Lawrence's fiction within the canonical "great tradition" of the English novel. He is now generally valued as a visionary thinker and a significant representative of modernism in English literature.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/D.H._Law...
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 111 reviews
December 3, 2022
From this novel emerges a very romantic atmosphere. It is quite simply a social fresco at the beginning of the 20th century; it is a question of morale. Alvina's attitude is frowned upon by English society; she is a lost girl with no enthusiasm and is no longer married. The importance of lost time holds its place in the novel. Avina is undecided about her life choice, and the world is moving. The First World War is there in the background. The reader follows the journey of a heroine and her destiny. She knows how to take it in hand and bring it to fruition. It would be like wrapped up in this English novel sprinkled with humour. In classical novel writing, a good time reading just the same feeling as seeing a good movie, found the report very visual.
July 13, 2020
Wow, this hit all the right buttons for me!
Lawrence’s prose is magnificent. Descriptions of places and people are stunning. He captures a time, a place and the people living there. He draws the English Midlands and Italy and travel between the two, landscapes and people viewed from up close, intimately, and from a distance, through the eyes of a stranger, one who does not belong there. Dialogues are pitch perfect. We hear what people of different classes say to each other. We hear conversations that are honest and open, some inquisitive, some reserved, some deceitful. When describing how people think and behave, Lawrence’s lines are astute.
I wholly support the message/s imparted in this novel. Consider the quotes below. They hint at that which is said.
“Wisdom has reference only to the past. The future remains forever an infinite field for mistakes.”
“Whatever life may be, and whatever horror men have made of it, the world is a lovely place, a magic place, something to marvel over. The world is an amazing place.”
"We have our fate in our hands."
Lawrence’s women are strong. What is delivered is feminist writing at its best. Rather than being lectured on the merits of women, we observe the female characters’ innate strength, wisdom and capabilities. We are shown rather than told. Quietly, unobtrusively, individual by individual, we observe how women achieve their goals.... until life comes and knocks them down, again. Let's not forget, it knocks men down too!
The woman referred to in the title is Alvina Houghton. We start by learning of her family—her father, mother and governess. Peu à peu, a number of other characters fill out the tale. There are not a zillion to keep track of. The ones we are introduced to are followed in-depth. Each becomes a character to relate to. Each has an impact on Alvina’s life. The events of her life and the people in it shape her personality. Character portrayal is a strong element of the story. We observe Alvina from her mid-teens into her thirties. At the end of the novel the First World War has begun.
I have thoroughly enjoyed watching Alvina figure out who she wanted to be, where she set her limits and how she balanced independence, enjoyment of life and the need to be loved and feel love for another.
When you close the book, you look back at those who have had an impact on Alvina’s life. Each one is different, each one is real, some you feel compelled to shake. I felt I had been living with these people.
When Alvina’s father dies her predicament felt as though it were mine. I felt as though I were hit over the head. I empathized totally. What happens to her has happened to many other women, but here it struck home to me with a force I have not felt before. Her indecision and her inability to figure out what to do felt absolutely real. This book put me in Alvina’ shoes, over and over and over again.
The prose, the message, the in-depth character portrayal have made this a winner of a book for me. It Is not a fast moving adventure tale. It is a slow burner, beautifully written. It urges people to disregard societal pressures. It urges people to take their life in their own hands and to make something special of it. And the end is just as it should be.
The audiobook is narrated by Johanna Ward very well. I am giving the narration four stars. She performs different dialects and languages well. We hear English, French, German and Italian words. Many are not translated. I also like the varied intonations she uses for the different characters. She reads rapidly though an introduction at the start. If listened to, it should be saved to the end.
***************************
*The Lost Girl 5 stars
*The Ladybird 5 stars
*The Virgin and the Gipsy 5 stars
*The Rainbow 4 stars
*The Captain's Doll 3 stars
*Love Among the Haystacks 3 stars
*Sons and Lovers 1 star
*Lady Chatterley's Lover 1 star
*Women in Love TBR
Lawrence’s prose is magnificent. Descriptions of places and people are stunning. He captures a time, a place and the people living there. He draws the English Midlands and Italy and travel between the two, landscapes and people viewed from up close, intimately, and from a distance, through the eyes of a stranger, one who does not belong there. Dialogues are pitch perfect. We hear what people of different classes say to each other. We hear conversations that are honest and open, some inquisitive, some reserved, some deceitful. When describing how people think and behave, Lawrence’s lines are astute.
I wholly support the message/s imparted in this novel. Consider the quotes below. They hint at that which is said.
“Wisdom has reference only to the past. The future remains forever an infinite field for mistakes.”
“Whatever life may be, and whatever horror men have made of it, the world is a lovely place, a magic place, something to marvel over. The world is an amazing place.”
"We have our fate in our hands."
Lawrence’s women are strong. What is delivered is feminist writing at its best. Rather than being lectured on the merits of women, we observe the female characters’ innate strength, wisdom and capabilities. We are shown rather than told. Quietly, unobtrusively, individual by individual, we observe how women achieve their goals.... until life comes and knocks them down, again. Let's not forget, it knocks men down too!
The woman referred to in the title is Alvina Houghton. We start by learning of her family—her father, mother and governess. Peu à peu, a number of other characters fill out the tale. There are not a zillion to keep track of. The ones we are introduced to are followed in-depth. Each becomes a character to relate to. Each has an impact on Alvina’s life. The events of her life and the people in it shape her personality. Character portrayal is a strong element of the story. We observe Alvina from her mid-teens into her thirties. At the end of the novel the First World War has begun.
I have thoroughly enjoyed watching Alvina figure out who she wanted to be, where she set her limits and how she balanced independence, enjoyment of life and the need to be loved and feel love for another.
When you close the book, you look back at those who have had an impact on Alvina’s life. Each one is different, each one is real, some you feel compelled to shake. I felt I had been living with these people.
When Alvina’s father dies her predicament felt as though it were mine. I felt as though I were hit over the head. I empathized totally. What happens to her has happened to many other women, but here it struck home to me with a force I have not felt before. Her indecision and her inability to figure out what to do felt absolutely real. This book put me in Alvina’ shoes, over and over and over again.
The prose, the message, the in-depth character portrayal have made this a winner of a book for me. It Is not a fast moving adventure tale. It is a slow burner, beautifully written. It urges people to disregard societal pressures. It urges people to take their life in their own hands and to make something special of it. And the end is just as it should be.
The audiobook is narrated by Johanna Ward very well. I am giving the narration four stars. She performs different dialects and languages well. We hear English, French, German and Italian words. Many are not translated. I also like the varied intonations she uses for the different characters. She reads rapidly though an introduction at the start. If listened to, it should be saved to the end.
***************************
*The Lost Girl 5 stars
*The Ladybird 5 stars
*The Virgin and the Gipsy 5 stars
*The Rainbow 4 stars
*The Captain's Doll 3 stars
*Love Among the Haystacks 3 stars
*Sons and Lovers 1 star
*Lady Chatterley's Lover 1 star
*Women in Love TBR
January 5, 2023
Harika bir eser! Uzun uzun yazmak anlatmak istiyorum blogda yazıyorum, yazacak çok şey var yazarın eserleri öyle etkiyeci ki kitabın uzun bir zaman düşüncelerimde devam edeceğini biliyorum.Lawrence vazgeçilmezim oldu açıkça!tavsiye ederim.
https://edebiyatdanostalji.blogspot.c...
https://edebiyatdanostalji.blogspot.c...
December 22, 2010
So, the scholars agree that this book isn't as good as most of Lawrence's other work, and maybe they're right. I don't know. I'm not a scholar. All I know is that this book helped me recapture the sense of absorption I felt while reading The Rainbow at a very stressful and unhappy time in my life, and for that it gets five stars and my eternal gratitude, even if it doesn't deserve them.
December 29, 2012
In a very famous context, D. H. Lawrence is himself famous for using a word beginning with ‘f’, a word that is infamous rather than famous. Mentioning this word and then repeating it got the author into some serious trouble that was not resolved until decades after his death. In this book, The Lost Girl, Lawrence is clearly preoccupied with the word and the novel is very much focused on it and its associated act. Its anticipation, achievement, consequences and perceived implications seem to be the very stuff of the heroine’s life, but in this book the word never actually appears. So, like Lawrence, let’s use a euphemism, but let’s also be more direct than the writer. Let’s use ‘fabrication’, an activity that is central to the work of any author.
The Lost Girl is Alvina Houghton. The surname is pronounced with an ‘f’ sound in the middle, not an ‘o’, so its first syllable rhymes with ‘fluff’, not ‘now’. She is the daughter of James, a shopkeeper in a small Derbyshire town called Woodhouse, in the north English midlands. James has a shop selling Manchester goods, the mass produced textiles of the late nineteenth century. He is not the best businessman, however, and his activities shrink over time. His daughter, Alvina - that’s with a ‘y’ sound in the middle, not an ‘e’ - is rather plain-looking and apparently not too interesting either. She thinks quite a lot about fabrication from quite an early age, but she is a determined spectator when it comes to relationships. Her counsel, especially after her mother dies, is from older women, some of them determined spinsters.
After some prevarication, Alvina eventually trains as a midwife. The skill offers her a chance of independence, but she chooses to revert to her preferred state of familial dependence. After all, Alvina will probably inherit her father’s business. Thus she continues her arm’s length relation with life.
There is a short affair with a local man, a rather goofy figure who goes on to Oxford University and probably lives long enough to make a packet. But clearly the safe option is not for Alvina, who equally seems utterly afraid of risk in any form. She clearly cannot bring herself to the fabrication she privately craves and so the affair, surely destined for marriage in the eyes of the locals, comes to nought.
Women close to The Lost Girl die. Others remain like perched birds watching over events. And, when James decides to leave the shop and sell off the little coal mine he also owns there is much consternation. There is even more to chirp about when he announces he is going into the entertainment business by opening up a little music hall, especially when Alvina declares that she will play the piano. Until this point, she had not mentioned being a musician. It is worthwhile remembering that we are in age when playing the instrument was almost part of any single woman’s trousseau.
And so the music hall presents its act, a motley crew of Red Indian impersonators, including a German called Max and an Italian called Cicio. Initially, the show packs them in, but the passing of time sees interest start to dwindle. But suddenly new opportunities arise for Alvina to think of fabrication, and fabrication with foreigners involved to boot!
And so the story of Lawrence’s The Lost Girl eventually fabricates its way from Derbyshire, and we leave Alvina in what looks like a new - though very old fashioned - life in changed circumstances. She seems now completely enslaved in her chosen womanly role, but we are at the start of the First World War and surely the role of women in society is about to change for ever.
The Lost Girl deals with many of Lawrence’s recurring themes, but its fabrication is often rather clumsy and its style often less than comfortable. It is, however, worth seeing through, if only to realise just how much both Lawrence and his fabricated characters - especially the women - are still locked in a soon to be changed mind-set about gender roles and social class.
The Lost Girl is Alvina Houghton. The surname is pronounced with an ‘f’ sound in the middle, not an ‘o’, so its first syllable rhymes with ‘fluff’, not ‘now’. She is the daughter of James, a shopkeeper in a small Derbyshire town called Woodhouse, in the north English midlands. James has a shop selling Manchester goods, the mass produced textiles of the late nineteenth century. He is not the best businessman, however, and his activities shrink over time. His daughter, Alvina - that’s with a ‘y’ sound in the middle, not an ‘e’ - is rather plain-looking and apparently not too interesting either. She thinks quite a lot about fabrication from quite an early age, but she is a determined spectator when it comes to relationships. Her counsel, especially after her mother dies, is from older women, some of them determined spinsters.
After some prevarication, Alvina eventually trains as a midwife. The skill offers her a chance of independence, but she chooses to revert to her preferred state of familial dependence. After all, Alvina will probably inherit her father’s business. Thus she continues her arm’s length relation with life.
There is a short affair with a local man, a rather goofy figure who goes on to Oxford University and probably lives long enough to make a packet. But clearly the safe option is not for Alvina, who equally seems utterly afraid of risk in any form. She clearly cannot bring herself to the fabrication she privately craves and so the affair, surely destined for marriage in the eyes of the locals, comes to nought.
Women close to The Lost Girl die. Others remain like perched birds watching over events. And, when James decides to leave the shop and sell off the little coal mine he also owns there is much consternation. There is even more to chirp about when he announces he is going into the entertainment business by opening up a little music hall, especially when Alvina declares that she will play the piano. Until this point, she had not mentioned being a musician. It is worthwhile remembering that we are in age when playing the instrument was almost part of any single woman’s trousseau.
And so the music hall presents its act, a motley crew of Red Indian impersonators, including a German called Max and an Italian called Cicio. Initially, the show packs them in, but the passing of time sees interest start to dwindle. But suddenly new opportunities arise for Alvina to think of fabrication, and fabrication with foreigners involved to boot!
And so the story of Lawrence’s The Lost Girl eventually fabricates its way from Derbyshire, and we leave Alvina in what looks like a new - though very old fashioned - life in changed circumstances. She seems now completely enslaved in her chosen womanly role, but we are at the start of the First World War and surely the role of women in society is about to change for ever.
The Lost Girl deals with many of Lawrence’s recurring themes, but its fabrication is often rather clumsy and its style often less than comfortable. It is, however, worth seeing through, if only to realise just how much both Lawrence and his fabricated characters - especially the women - are still locked in a soon to be changed mind-set about gender roles and social class.
February 15, 2019
It pains me, but...DNF, circa pg 105.
I've read & enjoyed Lawrence in the past, so this was greatly disappointing. But I just can't make myself continue. I gave it two chances, & my reaction remains constant. It's SO FUCKING SLOW. (And I have no guilt whatsoever for describing it thus, as the author was perfectly willing to use four-letter words in LADY CHATTERLEY, much to the chagrin of censorship boards everywhere.)
Speaking of LADY CHATTERLEY, this book confused my memory of previous Lawrence enough that I dug out my copy & paged through it, hoping my fondness wasn't just rose-colored nostalgia. And lo, it wasn't! I still love LC, & therefore I will trust my recollection of enjoying THE RAINBOW (though not as much as LC). This one, however...nope. The concept should've been interesting, but it wasn't -- perhaps because the plot seems to have died on the table, never to be heard from even by 30% of this verbose, bloated exploration of...personhood, I guess? As someone who struggled to fit in with the perceptions of my peers in a small town,** I sympathize greatly with much of Alvina's conflicted attitudes & see-saw feels, but I'm not the reader who likes No-Story Stories that exist solely to hash & rehash the lint of Personal Angst & Repressed Emotion. No thanks.
2 stars for the good bits -- because Lawrence really does know how to pen beautiful, deep, & (occasionally) wry prose. But if you haven't tried him before, I definitely wouldn't recommend starting here. An entitled female MC's embittered relationship with passionate urges, males, self, & society was explored much more palatably in Constance Chatterley, with an equally improved flow & plot arc, whereas similarly nuanced prose & repressed emoz were dug into throughout THE RAINBOW. By comparison, LOST GIRL feels repetitive & unnecessary.
IMO, this novel is 'forgotten' for a reason.
**Confession time: I used to go home & listen to my AC/DC & Led Zeppelin cds in secret, because 'nice girls' didn't like hard rock or biker music, especially 'nice girls' who were painfully shy & awkward around males. Just a small thing, one of many, the stupid shit that wounds us as youngsters...but I could definitely understand Alvina's wrestling with attraction to the rough edges of her tastes. (And yes, eventually I no longer cared what anyone thought about my musical tastes. Adulthood is nice that way. :P)
I've read & enjoyed Lawrence in the past, so this was greatly disappointing. But I just can't make myself continue. I gave it two chances, & my reaction remains constant. It's SO FUCKING SLOW. (And I have no guilt whatsoever for describing it thus, as the author was perfectly willing to use four-letter words in LADY CHATTERLEY, much to the chagrin of censorship boards everywhere.)
Speaking of LADY CHATTERLEY, this book confused my memory of previous Lawrence enough that I dug out my copy & paged through it, hoping my fondness wasn't just rose-colored nostalgia. And lo, it wasn't! I still love LC, & therefore I will trust my recollection of enjoying THE RAINBOW (though not as much as LC). This one, however...nope. The concept should've been interesting, but it wasn't -- perhaps because the plot seems to have died on the table, never to be heard from even by 30% of this verbose, bloated exploration of...personhood, I guess? As someone who struggled to fit in with the perceptions of my peers in a small town,** I sympathize greatly with much of Alvina's conflicted attitudes & see-saw feels, but I'm not the reader who likes No-Story Stories that exist solely to hash & rehash the lint of Personal Angst & Repressed Emotion. No thanks.
2 stars for the good bits -- because Lawrence really does know how to pen beautiful, deep, & (occasionally) wry prose. But if you haven't tried him before, I definitely wouldn't recommend starting here. An entitled female MC's embittered relationship with passionate urges, males, self, & society was explored much more palatably in Constance Chatterley, with an equally improved flow & plot arc, whereas similarly nuanced prose & repressed emoz were dug into throughout THE RAINBOW. By comparison, LOST GIRL feels repetitive & unnecessary.
IMO, this novel is 'forgotten' for a reason.
**Confession time: I used to go home & listen to my AC/DC & Led Zeppelin cds in secret, because 'nice girls' didn't like hard rock or biker music, especially 'nice girls' who were painfully shy & awkward around males. Just a small thing, one of many, the stupid shit that wounds us as youngsters...but I could definitely understand Alvina's wrestling with attraction to the rough edges of her tastes. (And yes, eventually I no longer cared what anyone thought about my musical tastes. Adulthood is nice that way. :P)
April 24, 2009
The Lost Girl by D.H. Lawrence is a remarkable achievement of literary craftsmanship. Lawrence's meticulous attention to detail provides the reader with a penetrating look into one girl's world, a world of inner struggle. The flowering youth, Alvina, who has always been cared for by her father and his attendants, seeks to find herself afresh, independent of an overbearing society with its rigid rules and expectations.
She meets an Italian of exotic beauty, Ciccio, who is employed to work at her father's new theater. She is attracted to his raw nature and direct manner, which is deemed less civilized by others. She leaves her home to runaway with Ciccio for Naples, against the wishes of those close to her. Her dreams and desires are aroused by this foreigner, but not always for the better.
D.H. Lawrence through methodical design and panoramic vision sustains this novel to the end. His characterizations of Alvina and Ciccio are true to life, neither embellishments nor simplifications. This beautiful and accurate portrayal of one girl's wish to find herself in a complicated world is worth the effort.
She meets an Italian of exotic beauty, Ciccio, who is employed to work at her father's new theater. She is attracted to his raw nature and direct manner, which is deemed less civilized by others. She leaves her home to runaway with Ciccio for Naples, against the wishes of those close to her. Her dreams and desires are aroused by this foreigner, but not always for the better.
D.H. Lawrence through methodical design and panoramic vision sustains this novel to the end. His characterizations of Alvina and Ciccio are true to life, neither embellishments nor simplifications. This beautiful and accurate portrayal of one girl's wish to find herself in a complicated world is worth the effort.
December 4, 2009
A fascinating, lesser-known Lawrence novel that uses vaudeville as its backdrop and features a really terrific female protagonist. Well worth reading!
June 5, 2010
Perfect study of a woman's dilemma, as relevant today as it was in the early 20th Century. One frustration: I never felt I truly trusted any of the characters.
July 31, 2012
DH Lawrence, hipster writer. Full of sullen, handsome young circus men on bicycles.
May 20, 2020
Em nota na edição do livro que li, chamou-me atenção a frase: "a reivindicação da paixão sexual como caminho para chegar à verdade e à realização integral do ser humano dominou toda a obra de D.H. Lawrence".
Não cheguei a ler todos os livros deste autor, porém, me agrada pensar que alguns autores possuem certas 'ideias fixas' na composição de suas obras. Claro que essa ideia 'fixa carrega' um mundo de interpretações levando a bifurcações e conclusões inesperdas, mas não entremos nesse assunto. O ponto que enalteço é que penso ser importante que um autor possua uma espécie de ideia ou concepção para a produção de seu trabalho. É relevante que essa concepção possa tornar-se uma espécie de força motriz para seu trabalho criativo, - não querendo comparar escritores a filósofos ou doutrinadores, - mas essa ideia ou concepção, introduz uma maior tangibilidade a seu trabalho.
O que mais me chamou a atenção:
O implacável destino se impõe e obriga Alvina (a personagem principal) a tomar atitudes drásticas, é impactante ler, pois em cada capítulo os acontecimentos parecem carregar a personagem numa viagem incessante à roda da fortuna.
Indecisão: vemos a personagens em diversos diliemas que a obrigam a fugir, principalmente nas situações amorosas de sua vida, Alvina é sempre relutante em relação a situações que de certa forma a prendam.
Cicio: é o personagem enigmático por quem Alvina se sente dominada, eles se amam, mas é incrível como a discrepância entre os dois é gigantesca, classe social, intelectual, etnia, costumes... talvez aqui seja onde possamos perceber a ideia de realização sexual exposta pelo autor falada acima. O amor entre os dois é enaltecido em olhares, gestos tímidos e confusos, e raramente conversam sobre a situação de seu relacionamento, apenas se correspondem mutuamente dessa forma truncada e fria, sem muito romance, seca e direta.
O livro me fez pensar que há diversas formas de amar e que todas cumprem um certo objetivo, por mais frias e estranhas que sejam, elas existem. Afinal, é extremamente difícil falar de amor ou relacionamentos amorosos de uma forma que abarque a contigência total do espírito humano, ainda mais se levarmos em conta duas pessoas tão diferentes. Talvez esse seja o poder do amor, sendo assim, essa união apesar de todas as diferenças, por si só torna-se bela.
E por fim, o livro me remeteu a uma trecho do poema de Manuel Bandeira:
"As almas são incomunicáveis.
Deixa o teu corpo entender-se com outro corpo.
Porque os corpos se entendem, mas as almas não."
(Manuel Bandeira - A Arte de Amar)
Não cheguei a ler todos os livros deste autor, porém, me agrada pensar que alguns autores possuem certas 'ideias fixas' na composição de suas obras. Claro que essa ideia 'fixa carrega' um mundo de interpretações levando a bifurcações e conclusões inesperdas, mas não entremos nesse assunto. O ponto que enalteço é que penso ser importante que um autor possua uma espécie de ideia ou concepção para a produção de seu trabalho. É relevante que essa concepção possa tornar-se uma espécie de força motriz para seu trabalho criativo, - não querendo comparar escritores a filósofos ou doutrinadores, - mas essa ideia ou concepção, introduz uma maior tangibilidade a seu trabalho.
O que mais me chamou a atenção:
O implacável destino se impõe e obriga Alvina (a personagem principal) a tomar atitudes drásticas, é impactante ler, pois em cada capítulo os acontecimentos parecem carregar a personagem numa viagem incessante à roda da fortuna.
Indecisão: vemos a personagens em diversos diliemas que a obrigam a fugir, principalmente nas situações amorosas de sua vida, Alvina é sempre relutante em relação a situações que de certa forma a prendam.
Cicio: é o personagem enigmático por quem Alvina se sente dominada, eles se amam, mas é incrível como a discrepância entre os dois é gigantesca, classe social, intelectual, etnia, costumes... talvez aqui seja onde possamos perceber a ideia de realização sexual exposta pelo autor falada acima. O amor entre os dois é enaltecido em olhares, gestos tímidos e confusos, e raramente conversam sobre a situação de seu relacionamento, apenas se correspondem mutuamente dessa forma truncada e fria, sem muito romance, seca e direta.
O livro me fez pensar que há diversas formas de amar e que todas cumprem um certo objetivo, por mais frias e estranhas que sejam, elas existem. Afinal, é extremamente difícil falar de amor ou relacionamentos amorosos de uma forma que abarque a contigência total do espírito humano, ainda mais se levarmos em conta duas pessoas tão diferentes. Talvez esse seja o poder do amor, sendo assim, essa união apesar de todas as diferenças, por si só torna-se bela.
E por fim, o livro me remeteu a uma trecho do poema de Manuel Bandeira:
"As almas são incomunicáveis.
Deixa o teu corpo entender-se com outro corpo.
Porque os corpos se entendem, mas as almas não."
(Manuel Bandeira - A Arte de Amar)
March 23, 2009
This book gets off to a slow start, but it's well worth sticking it out through the first few chapters. At first I was a little skeptical, seeing as how the main character, Alvina, is portrayed somewhat as a tragic "spinster" of 30...but this couldn't be farther from the truth. While there are definitely aspects of tragedy to her life, she strives for control over it. The book raises some interesting questions: What does it mean to be lost?; Is being lost a good thing?; To what extent are we in control of our own destiny? etc.
It seems almost as if the first part of the novel was written before WW1, and the latter part after/during the war. The tone definitely becomes darker near the end, but whether the ending can be seen as pessimistic or optimistic is really up to the reader's interpretation.
It seems almost as if the first part of the novel was written before WW1, and the latter part after/during the war. The tone definitely becomes darker near the end, but whether the ending can be seen as pessimistic or optimistic is really up to the reader's interpretation.
October 16, 2013
Shamefully this is the first novel by D.H Lawrence I've read (my English Lit friends must hate me!). The Lost Girl is slow and brooding as it seems like a book that focuses much more on the rich and beautifully textured nature of the English language, rather than the actual story if you catch my drift. I found myself completely enraptured by some of Lawrence's prose (this is a very descriptive book), but almost bored by other parts, especially when it comes to the characters who I developed no real feelings towards. A strange one, but I can certainly appreciate his writing, if not his overall concepts.
July 27, 2018
As ever, Lawrence writes beautifully. In this novel, he seems a little bitter about the place of the exceptional individual in a conformity-based society. I enjoy his bisexual heroes, and laughed out loud when the one here tells his boyfriend that there is room for all three of them in his new girlfriend's bed.
July 16, 2017
What a lady! Apart from that, some other unforgettable characters, and discerning information on class divisions in the 1920s.
February 8, 2023
A memorable, though overly long novel about the life of Alvina Houghton and her life choices. She is the only child of well to do trades people in the fictional town of Woodhouse. She lives in a large house and is well educated. She is proficient in playing the piano. Her plans to elope with her lover to Australia and her training as a nurse lead to nothing.
Still, all is not lost as she joins a traveling theatre group and falls in love with a dark, passionate Italian, Ciccio, who is 25 years old. Alvina is 30 years old. There are a couple of events after she joins the theatre group that require Alvina to reflect on what she wants to do with her future.
I enjoy Lawrence’s descriptive prose and how he develops his characters. The novel has plot momentum. Readers who enjoy read D H Lawrence should find this book a satisfying, worthwhile reading experience. Readers new to Lawrence should begin with ‘Sons and Daughters’ or ‘Lady Chatterley’s Lover’.
This book was the winner of the 1920 James Tait Black Memorial Prize for fiction.
Still, all is not lost as she joins a traveling theatre group and falls in love with a dark, passionate Italian, Ciccio, who is 25 years old. Alvina is 30 years old. There are a couple of events after she joins the theatre group that require Alvina to reflect on what she wants to do with her future.
I enjoy Lawrence’s descriptive prose and how he develops his characters. The novel has plot momentum. Readers who enjoy read D H Lawrence should find this book a satisfying, worthwhile reading experience. Readers new to Lawrence should begin with ‘Sons and Daughters’ or ‘Lady Chatterley’s Lover’.
This book was the winner of the 1920 James Tait Black Memorial Prize for fiction.
May 26, 2020
Cross-posted from my blog: http://quietandbusy.blogspot.com
I bought D.H. Lawrence's The Lost Girl many years ago purely based on the vivid cover. I didn't know anything about Lawrence or about the plot of the novel, but it looked quite different to other classics that I had run across in Barnes and Noble, making it instantly attractive to me. This was back in the early 2000s, and the cover art on older books at that time generally featured drab paintings or black and white photographs. There are lot of beautiful and striking editions of classics available now, but back then, this one was quite unique. The playful fonts and bright colors were enough to convince me that this book must be special, and that I needed to add it to my collection.
I never got around to reading The Lost Girl back when I bought it (a never-ending theme in my life), and it remained on my shelves for years with the rest of my classics library. When I was putting together my Classics Club list at the end of 2016, the novel's quirky cover caught my eye once again and I made it a part of my challenge. I still knew nothing about its plot, so I stuck it in the "Wild Card" category. As I started reading this month, I realized what a good place for this story that was, as this ended up being a very weird experience.
The plot of the novel follows Alvina Houghton, a young woman living with her father and two elderly housekeepers in a small English coal mining town called Woodhouse. Alvina's father is a struggling shopkeeper with terrible instincts, and his current business, a fabric and notions shop, is constantly on the brink of failing. As a last ditch effort to reach financial success, he purchases a theater and begins to run a show mixing short films with live performances. In order to cut costs, he works selling tickets and makes Alvina play the piano to accompany the acts.
Alvina is initially horrified at this arrangement. Socially, the position is most definitely beneath her. She occupies an odd place in Woodhouse society. Her father has scraped together enough money to elevate her above the lower class of colliers that make up most of the town's population, and she has the manners and appearance of a lady. However, her father's eccentric approach to business and her own contrary and intense personality keep her at the fringes. She has no real friends outside of her housekeepers and few connections to the community she lives in. She has had a couple of romantic prospects in her past, but has ended up spurning them all as things got closer to marriage. Something within her won't let her settle for a boring and passionless life, no matter how sensible and safe that life may be. As a result, she finds herself drifting and rather purposeless. She is approaching spinsterhood, and being forced to work at her father's latest pipe dream is depressing, to say the least. That is, until the Natcha-Kee-Tawara come to town.
The Natcha-Kee-Tawara are a small acting troupe that Alvina's father hires to perform at his theater. They consist of an older woman and three young men, and they run an act about a fictional tribe of Native Americans. Alvina feels an instant attraction to one of the young men in the group, an Italian named Ciccio. After working together at the theater for a while, he begins to feel the same way and the pair begin a sexual relationship. They are wrong for each other in many ways, but Alvina can't deny the passion she feels for Ciccio. Pursuing that passion will lead her away from everything and everyone she knows, and her main struggle in the novel is deciding what she will sacrifice and how far she will go to keep this man in her life.
I'm not sure exactly what to make of this book. It was not bad at all, but it was so strange in many ways. I've been done with it for a few days now, and I'm still not clear on who Alvina was as a character and what I was supposed to take away from her story. The Lost Girl seemed to bounce all over the map. Some parts felt feminist and liberating, while other parts felt hopelessly sexist. Some parts seemed to promote following your heart, other parts showed Alvina as a helpless victim of fate. Some parts encouraged the breaking of restrictive social norms, other parts implied that breaking those norms leads to disaster. I had trouble wading through it all and trying to figure out exactly what Lawrence was trying to say.
A big part of my confusion came from Alvina's character. She had such an odd, contrary streak running through her that it was difficult to predict her choices and reactions throughout the story. She veers wildly between loving and hating all of the people and places in her life, and it was difficult to see why those changes occurred. In one memorable instance, she claimed to love her governess, Mrs. Frost, in one sentence, and then declare that she thought it was about time for her to die in the next. This pattern of shifting feelings continued throughout the novel, with even Ciccio receiving her undying affection and complete disdain in turns. I never knew what Alvina would decide to do next, because her principles were applied in such an inconsistent way. It was hard to see growth in her because all of her decisions felt almost random.
The theme felt similarly scattered. Despite Alvina's ever-shifting emotions, she does consistently follow her heart. She is sexually curious, determined to live with a man that excites her, and unable to settle down with a boring or unattractive partner just because it would be "smart" to do so. These elements would normally make for a strong, liberated female character. However, the outcomes of Alvina's decisions are a bewildering blend of happiness and sadness that make it unclear whether following her instincts was the correct decision. Deciding to be with Ciccio changes Alvina's life in ways that are terribly depressing, but she is with someone she feels a passionate connection to. The reader is left to ponder whether it was all worth it, and honestly, it doesn't feel like it was. What then, was the point of it all? I still don't know. The events of the story are too ambiguous to show a clear lesson either way.
I know I sound harsh here, but I really didn't dislike this novel. It was enjoyable enough and endlessly thought-provoking. Lawrence's writing was sensual and beautiful. This was my first novel by him, and I was pleasantly surprised by how nice the prose was to read. I was definitely confused as to the overall meaning of the story as I made my way through it, but it wasn't a frustrating confusion - it was more like a I-can't-imagine-where-this-is-going-so-I'd-better-keep-reading situation. It definitely had some pacing issues here and there, but it wasn't bad enough to seriously impact my experience.
What did impact my experience, however, was how poorly some elements of this have aged over the years. I was doing a lot of cringing as I read. The Natcha-Kee-Tawara act, for example, was pure redface. We get long descriptions of the war dances, fighting, and squaws that are based exclusively on Native American stereotypes. Elements of this were in the story a lot. Also, Ciccio's Italian heritage was constantly insulted, with racist remarks about his dirtiness, intelligence, unreliability, and dark skin color filling the pages. He was constantly described in animalistic terms, and the attraction Alvina felt for him was uncomfortably rooted in the primitive sexuality he exuded. The sexual activity between Alvina and Ciccio had issues as well. Alvina's consent to their encounters was extremely dubious. There was an uncomfortable amount of struggling and saying "no" beforehand. I was actually unsure as to whether Alvina was truly okay with what happened the first few times they were together, but it turned out to be a "no means yes" deal. I know that it's not fair to apply modern standards to a work that is a century old at this point, but there was a lot in here that you have to look past in order to enjoy the story.
So ultimately, I'm not quite sure what to make of The Lost Girl. It had strengths, it had weaknesses, and it definitely left me scratching my head. I'm not upset I read it, but I have a feeling that it won't be my favorite D.H. Lawrence novel. There are several more of his works I plan to check out in the future and I think that the best is yet to come for me.
I bought D.H. Lawrence's The Lost Girl many years ago purely based on the vivid cover. I didn't know anything about Lawrence or about the plot of the novel, but it looked quite different to other classics that I had run across in Barnes and Noble, making it instantly attractive to me. This was back in the early 2000s, and the cover art on older books at that time generally featured drab paintings or black and white photographs. There are lot of beautiful and striking editions of classics available now, but back then, this one was quite unique. The playful fonts and bright colors were enough to convince me that this book must be special, and that I needed to add it to my collection.
I never got around to reading The Lost Girl back when I bought it (a never-ending theme in my life), and it remained on my shelves for years with the rest of my classics library. When I was putting together my Classics Club list at the end of 2016, the novel's quirky cover caught my eye once again and I made it a part of my challenge. I still knew nothing about its plot, so I stuck it in the "Wild Card" category. As I started reading this month, I realized what a good place for this story that was, as this ended up being a very weird experience.
The plot of the novel follows Alvina Houghton, a young woman living with her father and two elderly housekeepers in a small English coal mining town called Woodhouse. Alvina's father is a struggling shopkeeper with terrible instincts, and his current business, a fabric and notions shop, is constantly on the brink of failing. As a last ditch effort to reach financial success, he purchases a theater and begins to run a show mixing short films with live performances. In order to cut costs, he works selling tickets and makes Alvina play the piano to accompany the acts.
Alvina is initially horrified at this arrangement. Socially, the position is most definitely beneath her. She occupies an odd place in Woodhouse society. Her father has scraped together enough money to elevate her above the lower class of colliers that make up most of the town's population, and she has the manners and appearance of a lady. However, her father's eccentric approach to business and her own contrary and intense personality keep her at the fringes. She has no real friends outside of her housekeepers and few connections to the community she lives in. She has had a couple of romantic prospects in her past, but has ended up spurning them all as things got closer to marriage. Something within her won't let her settle for a boring and passionless life, no matter how sensible and safe that life may be. As a result, she finds herself drifting and rather purposeless. She is approaching spinsterhood, and being forced to work at her father's latest pipe dream is depressing, to say the least. That is, until the Natcha-Kee-Tawara come to town.
The Natcha-Kee-Tawara are a small acting troupe that Alvina's father hires to perform at his theater. They consist of an older woman and three young men, and they run an act about a fictional tribe of Native Americans. Alvina feels an instant attraction to one of the young men in the group, an Italian named Ciccio. After working together at the theater for a while, he begins to feel the same way and the pair begin a sexual relationship. They are wrong for each other in many ways, but Alvina can't deny the passion she feels for Ciccio. Pursuing that passion will lead her away from everything and everyone she knows, and her main struggle in the novel is deciding what she will sacrifice and how far she will go to keep this man in her life.
I'm not sure exactly what to make of this book. It was not bad at all, but it was so strange in many ways. I've been done with it for a few days now, and I'm still not clear on who Alvina was as a character and what I was supposed to take away from her story. The Lost Girl seemed to bounce all over the map. Some parts felt feminist and liberating, while other parts felt hopelessly sexist. Some parts seemed to promote following your heart, other parts showed Alvina as a helpless victim of fate. Some parts encouraged the breaking of restrictive social norms, other parts implied that breaking those norms leads to disaster. I had trouble wading through it all and trying to figure out exactly what Lawrence was trying to say.
A big part of my confusion came from Alvina's character. She had such an odd, contrary streak running through her that it was difficult to predict her choices and reactions throughout the story. She veers wildly between loving and hating all of the people and places in her life, and it was difficult to see why those changes occurred. In one memorable instance, she claimed to love her governess, Mrs. Frost, in one sentence, and then declare that she thought it was about time for her to die in the next. This pattern of shifting feelings continued throughout the novel, with even Ciccio receiving her undying affection and complete disdain in turns. I never knew what Alvina would decide to do next, because her principles were applied in such an inconsistent way. It was hard to see growth in her because all of her decisions felt almost random.
The theme felt similarly scattered. Despite Alvina's ever-shifting emotions, she does consistently follow her heart. She is sexually curious, determined to live with a man that excites her, and unable to settle down with a boring or unattractive partner just because it would be "smart" to do so. These elements would normally make for a strong, liberated female character. However, the outcomes of Alvina's decisions are a bewildering blend of happiness and sadness that make it unclear whether following her instincts was the correct decision. Deciding to be with Ciccio changes Alvina's life in ways that are terribly depressing, but she is with someone she feels a passionate connection to. The reader is left to ponder whether it was all worth it, and honestly, it doesn't feel like it was. What then, was the point of it all? I still don't know. The events of the story are too ambiguous to show a clear lesson either way.
I know I sound harsh here, but I really didn't dislike this novel. It was enjoyable enough and endlessly thought-provoking. Lawrence's writing was sensual and beautiful. This was my first novel by him, and I was pleasantly surprised by how nice the prose was to read. I was definitely confused as to the overall meaning of the story as I made my way through it, but it wasn't a frustrating confusion - it was more like a I-can't-imagine-where-this-is-going-so-I'd-better-keep-reading situation. It definitely had some pacing issues here and there, but it wasn't bad enough to seriously impact my experience.
What did impact my experience, however, was how poorly some elements of this have aged over the years. I was doing a lot of cringing as I read. The Natcha-Kee-Tawara act, for example, was pure redface. We get long descriptions of the war dances, fighting, and squaws that are based exclusively on Native American stereotypes. Elements of this were in the story a lot. Also, Ciccio's Italian heritage was constantly insulted, with racist remarks about his dirtiness, intelligence, unreliability, and dark skin color filling the pages. He was constantly described in animalistic terms, and the attraction Alvina felt for him was uncomfortably rooted in the primitive sexuality he exuded. The sexual activity between Alvina and Ciccio had issues as well. Alvina's consent to their encounters was extremely dubious. There was an uncomfortable amount of struggling and saying "no" beforehand. I was actually unsure as to whether Alvina was truly okay with what happened the first few times they were together, but it turned out to be a "no means yes" deal. I know that it's not fair to apply modern standards to a work that is a century old at this point, but there was a lot in here that you have to look past in order to enjoy the story.
So ultimately, I'm not quite sure what to make of The Lost Girl. It had strengths, it had weaknesses, and it definitely left me scratching my head. I'm not upset I read it, but I have a feeling that it won't be my favorite D.H. Lawrence novel. There are several more of his works I plan to check out in the future and I think that the best is yet to come for me.
April 11, 2024
1920. Cittadina mineraria di Woodhouse.
Alvina Houghton nel 1913 è ancora una bambina.
Prima di giungere a lei bisogna soffermarsi sul padre. È lui il vero perno della storia. Il suo carattere impulsivo, le sue scelte imprenditoriali sempre sbagliate e azzardate che portano gradualmente la famiglia alla rovina. Un decadimento economico che forse va ad intaccare anche la moralità di Alvina.
La storia si chiude con l'inizio del primo conflitto mondiale. Anche in questo caso è una lenta inevitabile escalation.
Il vero romanzo di formazione ci mostra una giovane Alvina, sin dall'inizio, insofferente all'immagine della perfetta donna inglese. La madre, malata di cuore, docile e remissiva.
La governante, una zitella rigida e conformista e infine, la signorina Pinnegar, che assisterà con lei al definitivo crollo familiare. Tutti modelli di donne che lei cerca di non emulare.
Alvina si perde sin da subito, cerca con tutta se stessa di fidanzarsi e omologarsi, ma quando decide di formarsi come levatrice, scopre di esser fatta per l'ambiente goliardico ospedaliero. Fra medici e corteggiatori rifiorisce letteralmente. A casa non torna più una nobildonna inglese ma una pratica donna, un po' in carne e gioiosa.
Poi crolla nuovamente, appassisce.
Ritorna se stessa solo durante l'ultima follia paterna. L'acquisto di una sorta di cinema che offre spettacoli di cabaret.
Fugge con una compagnia di attori girovaghi, si innamora di un italiano più giovane di lei e qui si perde nel vero senso della parola. Si perde ma si innamora. È un legame malsano, purtroppo anche qui ritorna la sua passività che la porta ad accettare e subire.
La fuga in Italia fa entrare la storia in un ambiente tipicamente rurale, la narrazione si incupisce con l'avvicinarsi della guerra, ma che paesaggi suggestivi in Italia!
È come se finalmente Alvina fosse uscita da quella grande e maestosa dimora per respirare e vivere liberamente.
Alvina, donna libera, moderna ed emancipata o semplicemente indolente nei confronti della vita?
Si trascina con il suo amante verso un futuro ignoto, cambia repentinamente il corso della sua vita più per noncuranza che per reale interesse o solo per dimostrare che ognuno è padrone del proprio destino?
Alvina Houghton nel 1913 è ancora una bambina.
Prima di giungere a lei bisogna soffermarsi sul padre. È lui il vero perno della storia. Il suo carattere impulsivo, le sue scelte imprenditoriali sempre sbagliate e azzardate che portano gradualmente la famiglia alla rovina. Un decadimento economico che forse va ad intaccare anche la moralità di Alvina.
La storia si chiude con l'inizio del primo conflitto mondiale. Anche in questo caso è una lenta inevitabile escalation.
Il vero romanzo di formazione ci mostra una giovane Alvina, sin dall'inizio, insofferente all'immagine della perfetta donna inglese. La madre, malata di cuore, docile e remissiva.
La governante, una zitella rigida e conformista e infine, la signorina Pinnegar, che assisterà con lei al definitivo crollo familiare. Tutti modelli di donne che lei cerca di non emulare.
Alvina si perde sin da subito, cerca con tutta se stessa di fidanzarsi e omologarsi, ma quando decide di formarsi come levatrice, scopre di esser fatta per l'ambiente goliardico ospedaliero. Fra medici e corteggiatori rifiorisce letteralmente. A casa non torna più una nobildonna inglese ma una pratica donna, un po' in carne e gioiosa.
Poi crolla nuovamente, appassisce.
Ritorna se stessa solo durante l'ultima follia paterna. L'acquisto di una sorta di cinema che offre spettacoli di cabaret.
Fugge con una compagnia di attori girovaghi, si innamora di un italiano più giovane di lei e qui si perde nel vero senso della parola. Si perde ma si innamora. È un legame malsano, purtroppo anche qui ritorna la sua passività che la porta ad accettare e subire.
La fuga in Italia fa entrare la storia in un ambiente tipicamente rurale, la narrazione si incupisce con l'avvicinarsi della guerra, ma che paesaggi suggestivi in Italia!
È come se finalmente Alvina fosse uscita da quella grande e maestosa dimora per respirare e vivere liberamente.
Alvina, donna libera, moderna ed emancipata o semplicemente indolente nei confronti della vita?
Si trascina con il suo amante verso un futuro ignoto, cambia repentinamente il corso della sua vita più per noncuranza che per reale interesse o solo per dimostrare che ognuno è padrone del proprio destino?
November 3, 2019
A novel of profound contrasts, which takes some effort to fully appreciate. The first brush strokes on the canvas of the novel paint a dreary scene of English working class tyranny, and this is of course a Lawrence staple. How does one individuate? It is an age old challenge for the unorthodox, like Lawrence himself. He never solved it in his life, so we cannot expect solutions here, but what we do find is a highly competent rendition of the problem; one that we all should recognise.
The protagonist, Alvina Houghton is a well-to-do 'lady' living in the below station environs of a working class Midlands town. Her father James indulges his endless and primarily fruitless schemes for summitting the entrepreneurial edifice and giving his daughter the means to substantiate her genteel expectations. More or less, he fails, but he never stops trying. In each iteration the family are reduced until Alvina is forced to contend with her greatest fear:
Alvina is in many ways The Lost Girl. Too good to work, and with no adequate suitors, at least none who excite her. Here we meet that other staple of Lawrencian philosophy: sex. Alvina could of course setlle, and marry a cold, almost fishlike, Cambridge academic. Or go to the other extreme and marry a wealthy tradesman, but she doesn't want to settle. A disappointing spinsterhood beckons.
And she is trapped between these poles, unable to demean herself to live among the common herd, and yet failing to truly live.
The parallels with his Later novel, Lady Chatterley are evident. This is a better work (in truth Chatterley is bitter and angry and not much else), but here DHL is wrestling with the problem that always consumed him. His class self-loathing. His desire to break the composure of the aristocratic woman. His repressed sexual ambivalence. This last is expressed through the character of Ciccio an Italian actor so lovingly rendered, so exotic, so desirable that we wonder why Lawrence never describes his women with such delicacy. Inevitably, Alvina is fascinated, who would not be? She is the moth to the flame.
This juxtaposition is the beautiful glint of Lawrence's genius, and we have had to get through a whole novel to see it. The man was at another level, but he let his bitterness destroy him. You can see it here, in its infancy. The beauty and freedom - and actually hope - of his early work, The Rainbow, Women in Love, the homage to himself that is Sons and Lovers, it has started here to curdle. But the brilliance still shines out all the same.
The protagonist, Alvina Houghton is a well-to-do 'lady' living in the below station environs of a working class Midlands town. Her father James indulges his endless and primarily fruitless schemes for summitting the entrepreneurial edifice and giving his daughter the means to substantiate her genteel expectations. More or less, he fails, but he never stops trying. In each iteration the family are reduced until Alvina is forced to contend with her greatest fear:
She rebelled with all her backbone against the word job. Even the substitutes, employment or work, were detestable, unbearable. Emphatically, she did not want to work for a wage. It was too humiliating. Could anything be more infra dig than the performing of a set of special actions day in day out, for a life-time, in order to receive some shillings every seventh day. Shameful! A condition of shame. The most vulgar, sordid and humiliating of all forms of slavery: so mechanical. Far better be a slave outright, in contact with all the whims and impulses of a human being, than serve some mechanical routine of modern work.
Alvina is in many ways The Lost Girl. Too good to work, and with no adequate suitors, at least none who excite her. Here we meet that other staple of Lawrencian philosophy: sex. Alvina could of course setlle, and marry a cold, almost fishlike, Cambridge academic. Or go to the other extreme and marry a wealthy tradesman, but she doesn't want to settle. A disappointing spinsterhood beckons.
Men can suck the heady juice of exalted self-importance from the bitter weed of failure—failures are usually the most conceited of men: even as was James Houghton. But to a woman, failure is another matter. For her it means failure to live, failure to establish her own life on the face of the earth. And this is humiliating, the ultimate humiliation.
And she is trapped between these poles, unable to demean herself to live among the common herd, and yet failing to truly live.
The parallels with his Later novel, Lady Chatterley are evident. This is a better work (in truth Chatterley is bitter and angry and not much else), but here DHL is wrestling with the problem that always consumed him. His class self-loathing. His desire to break the composure of the aristocratic woman. His repressed sexual ambivalence. This last is expressed through the character of Ciccio an Italian actor so lovingly rendered, so exotic, so desirable that we wonder why Lawrence never describes his women with such delicacy. Inevitably, Alvina is fascinated, who would not be? She is the moth to the flame.
This juxtaposition is the beautiful glint of Lawrence's genius, and we have had to get through a whole novel to see it. The man was at another level, but he let his bitterness destroy him. You can see it here, in its infancy. The beauty and freedom - and actually hope - of his early work, The Rainbow, Women in Love, the homage to himself that is Sons and Lovers, it has started here to curdle. But the brilliance still shines out all the same.
March 5, 2013
I had not read much D.H. Lawrence...a few of his stories way back in college maybe. But reading The Lost Girl I can see why his works were so concerning to the status quo and so censored.
It is not so much for shocking sex or salacious material, though I am sure some of the imagery and forthright language concerning sex were a bit shocking at the time. No, it is more for his seeming to want to break down conventions and barriers. And not even so much social and political conventions, but the conventions of feelings and true, visceral emotions, not the laced and guarded "correct" emotions we put on in our public, and even private lives.
In this way Lawrence reminds me of the flip side of the coin to Orwell. Orwell wanted to change social and political castes. But Lawrence seems to be little concerned with that....though I think if these internal barriers fell by the wayside, those social and political ones would too.
The "lost girl" of the title battles her own self, trying to find what is true internally. Sometimes she feels one way and then exactly the opposite as she continues her search for true emotion. And Lawrence seems to accept that to be true you can be, perhaps must be, inconsistent. Love and hate, cravings and disgust, lust and repulsions; all these live together and must be savored equally.
Does the lost girl ever find her way? Who are we to say what her way should be? None of the surrounding English characters could say what it should be...not her father, her governess, her townspeople. The only one who could come close was her Italian. And only because he let her be all of the emotions and those feelings at once.
I think she was no longer lost when she was able to let him be what he was, how he was...or at least it was a start of finding her way.
Lawrence is a very sensual writer, concerned with the senses and the feelings of his characters. I enjoyed this book and will be reading more of his work.
It is not so much for shocking sex or salacious material, though I am sure some of the imagery and forthright language concerning sex were a bit shocking at the time. No, it is more for his seeming to want to break down conventions and barriers. And not even so much social and political conventions, but the conventions of feelings and true, visceral emotions, not the laced and guarded "correct" emotions we put on in our public, and even private lives.
In this way Lawrence reminds me of the flip side of the coin to Orwell. Orwell wanted to change social and political castes. But Lawrence seems to be little concerned with that....though I think if these internal barriers fell by the wayside, those social and political ones would too.
The "lost girl" of the title battles her own self, trying to find what is true internally. Sometimes she feels one way and then exactly the opposite as she continues her search for true emotion. And Lawrence seems to accept that to be true you can be, perhaps must be, inconsistent. Love and hate, cravings and disgust, lust and repulsions; all these live together and must be savored equally.
Does the lost girl ever find her way? Who are we to say what her way should be? None of the surrounding English characters could say what it should be...not her father, her governess, her townspeople. The only one who could come close was her Italian. And only because he let her be all of the emotions and those feelings at once.
I think she was no longer lost when she was able to let him be what he was, how he was...or at least it was a start of finding her way.
Lawrence is a very sensual writer, concerned with the senses and the feelings of his characters. I enjoyed this book and will be reading more of his work.
February 28, 2018
What a peculiar story, and yet fairly average type of life for the heroine.
I wasn't sure if I'd like this. It was my first D.H. Lawrence.
He offers some quiet humor, subtle whit and satire, and unique commentary on the period.
I'm not sure I'd go around recommending this novel, but I also wouldn't call a waste of time
I wasn't sure if I'd like this. It was my first D.H. Lawrence.
He offers some quiet humor, subtle whit and satire, and unique commentary on the period.
I'm not sure I'd go around recommending this novel, but I also wouldn't call a waste of time
January 27, 2016
I felt the healing touch of this book.
dnf
April 24, 2015DNF @25%. Sorry.
August 30, 2015
Truth
Full of the truth about women, men, love... How did DH Lawrence come to know so much about the truth of being human
Full of the truth about women, men, love... How did DH Lawrence come to know so much about the truth of being human
March 27, 2022
lawrence is a superb writer, though this book was a little too slow. it was written sporadically which definitely shows. however, i loved the candidness with which lawrence talks about female sexual desire, way ahead of his time. minus points for the persistent orientalism
October 18, 2024
A fantastic 20th century feminist novel that unfortunately gets bogged down by being too much of a mundane English novel. But the men suck and the choices that the main character make are difficult but wholly necessary
January 22, 2022
The Lost girl is an excellent work and a thorough study of life; almost a guide on how to live it. Its focal character Alvina Houghton is tossed into the uncertain sea of youth. Like most young people, she is lost, and has no clue on how to direct her steps in the world. Money does not grow on trees, and love can be as painful as it is often sweet and thrilling. So we follow her progress closely, and witness the growth in her character as she searches the depth of her soul in the quest of her true self.
In its treatment of marriage, the novel depicts the everlasting shadow of sadness and discontent cast upon the lives of mismatched couples like James Houghton and his wife. The latter had become an invalid, and was confined to her room for years on account of the growing disappointment with her matrimonial life. Alvina, the fruit of that unhappy conventional union, seems to be aware of the dangers of commitment when love and passion are lacking. Accordingly, she defies the rigid norms of her day, and only marries for love in spite of her community's prejudice and judgement.
The book is an excellent study of the cultural and sociological circumstances of the day by dint of its use of binary opposition between nature and industry, old traditions and new ideas, human touch and artificiality. In one particular scene, Mr. May advocates the beauty of stage performances while Alvina explains to him that the audience was no longer interested in such spectacles, and was now contented with picture movies instead. In a way, the technological development, as depicted in the novel, had only led to people's estrangement from one another, and their alienation from life itself.
Otherness and alienation are both of them central themes in the novel. The former concept is developed by virtue of the foreign travelling performers who represent ideas and ideals unheard of in England, and consequently looked upon with suspicion and uneasiness. Even among the same group, Max and Louis, who were originally from Switzerland, could not live in harmony with the Italian Ciccio. The young men were alienated from one another on account of the growing tension of enmity between their countries shortly before the war.
Alvina can be read as an absurdist character who recognizes the futility of Man's position in the world, the meaninglessness of suffering, and the acuteness of the pain resulting from separation and death. In spite of all that, however, she finds in the journey itself enough motivation and enjoyment to go on with her life.
Although the title of the book is The Lost Girl, Alvina ends up finding her true self and discovering the things that made her genuinely happy including the connections which she really needed. It was only by losing herself that she found happiness, by taking a dive into the unknown and the mysterious and by living her life according to her own ideals instead of following the societal code of the day.
In its treatment of marriage, the novel depicts the everlasting shadow of sadness and discontent cast upon the lives of mismatched couples like James Houghton and his wife. The latter had become an invalid, and was confined to her room for years on account of the growing disappointment with her matrimonial life. Alvina, the fruit of that unhappy conventional union, seems to be aware of the dangers of commitment when love and passion are lacking. Accordingly, she defies the rigid norms of her day, and only marries for love in spite of her community's prejudice and judgement.
The book is an excellent study of the cultural and sociological circumstances of the day by dint of its use of binary opposition between nature and industry, old traditions and new ideas, human touch and artificiality. In one particular scene, Mr. May advocates the beauty of stage performances while Alvina explains to him that the audience was no longer interested in such spectacles, and was now contented with picture movies instead. In a way, the technological development, as depicted in the novel, had only led to people's estrangement from one another, and their alienation from life itself.
Otherness and alienation are both of them central themes in the novel. The former concept is developed by virtue of the foreign travelling performers who represent ideas and ideals unheard of in England, and consequently looked upon with suspicion and uneasiness. Even among the same group, Max and Louis, who were originally from Switzerland, could not live in harmony with the Italian Ciccio. The young men were alienated from one another on account of the growing tension of enmity between their countries shortly before the war.
Alvina can be read as an absurdist character who recognizes the futility of Man's position in the world, the meaninglessness of suffering, and the acuteness of the pain resulting from separation and death. In spite of all that, however, she finds in the journey itself enough motivation and enjoyment to go on with her life.
Although the title of the book is The Lost Girl, Alvina ends up finding her true self and discovering the things that made her genuinely happy including the connections which she really needed. It was only by losing herself that she found happiness, by taking a dive into the unknown and the mysterious and by living her life according to her own ideals instead of following the societal code of the day.
June 28, 2022
This is a standard Lawrence theme (if one can ever apply 'standard' t to D.H. Lawrence): Good English Woman is sexually repressed. Good English Woman meets a dubious noble primitive. Good English Woman renounces social convention. Good English Woman gets ravished (read: raped) by dubious noble primitive. Good English Woman sort of revels in the experience, but ... Good English Woman renounces dubious noble primitive and gives well respected gentleman a try, for a while, at least. However, the well respected gentleman isn't making it in bed. The rough sex turns out to be too good to turn her back on ( which is the orientation from which most of it is conducted), and she returns to the dubious noble primitive to live happily ever after (or at least during the bouts of rough sex) in total squalor.
July 14, 2015
It was a bit hard for me to finish the book. But I did and I don't regret it. At first, I thought it was nothing special, but when I put it aside, I found myself pondering upon it. I thought about Alvina. Her character is so raw, so real... I kept wondering what would become of her. She seemed to me both lost and found; a person with no inner peace and endless struggle; a woman whose heart is tired of rules and conventions. All that time, I imagined a bird, hitting itself in the closed window, trying to get out. And though the writing style of the book is not to my liking (some passages excluded), the characters are, to me, as real as life.
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