Trying to finish The Rainbow, one of D. H. Lawrence's early works [and my first attempt at this author]. But it is proving a formidable challenge. I do not care about these characters or their affairs. I'll consent that Lawrence can craft prose beautifully. The narrator describes one of the character's contemplation on the sabbath, saying, "She found herself in a strange, undefined place, where her spirit could wander in dreams, unassailed." Beautiful, truly. Later, addressing the crisis of identity, he writes:

"...how to become oneself? One was not oneself, one was merely a half-stated question. How to become oneself, how to know the question and the answer of oneself, when one was merely an unfixed something-nothing, blowing about like the winds of heaven, undefined, unstated..."  

I think he poses the questions marvelously... but his answers are bleak, at best. Every portrayal of marriage is unbelievably selfish--each man, each woman, trying to exert their wills over the other person. I suppose, without Christ, we really are all that self-centered. But it makes for a terrible read! I don't like it when books have no one to root for. Even an "anti-hero" has the possibility for redemption. But this novel only has characters--some main characters--but no protagonist =/

Ok... enough of a rant. Back to reading.