The marriage of Tom Brangwen and Lydia Lensky, the first generation of The Rainbow, comprises one of the major turning points in the structure of the novel which chronicles the lives of the three generations of the Brangwen family, setting them against the emergence of modern England. Even though Tom Brangwen ends up failing to develop himself in terms of the formal education and the mental consciousness, he, through his marriage, finally get to his singleness of self, that is, his venture into the unknown reality. With reference to some of A. Badiou's notions, such as “events” and “the truth-process”, this article tries to discriminate the unique Lawrencean terms, power from will, thereby tracing the way Tom and Lydia escape from their own egos and ultimately achieve the true relatedness in marriage. Lydia's first marriage as well as the turbulent history during the great revolution in Poland provides a backdrop against which the small region of Cossethay can be endowed with much greater significance even in the world history.

This essay suggests that the affective dimension of primitivism has a crucial part in D. H. Lawrence's innovative characterization in Women in Love. Building on Michael Bell's and Ben Etherington's astute commentaries on Lawrentian primitivism, while drawing on Brian Massumi's notion of affect, it foregrounds Gudrun and Birkin as major focalizers of the primitive narrative. First, in her relationship with Gerald, Gudrun turns him into a primitive object of her sadomasochistic desire. It is Lawrence's narrative primitivism that makes this psychosexual mechanism feasible, generating precognitive and inexpressible affects, which nevertheless are embodied in the narrative as intensities arresting the characters. As Gerald becomes “primitive” through the logic of Gudrun's desire, it is potently revealed that he is deeply subordinated to the 'savagery' of modern capitalist system, along with the machinery and the coal-miners. In case of Birkin, his primitivist aspiration brings forth alternative modes of sensual experience beyond the pale of heterosexual normativity. Right after the climactic moment of his conflicted relationship with Hermione, he undergoes blissful feelings of fulfillment in an erotic, yet asexual encounter with nature. Further, the wrestling scene with Gerald presents similarly intense and deeply gratifying feelings accompanying genuinely uninhibited sensuality. Yet, the ideological binary of primitivism as a discourse―into degenerative and regenerative ones―affects Birkin to repress his queer desire, and hold onto the safe ground of heterosexuality. Nonetheless, it deserves our attention that rather than an artistic credo or a part of imperial discourse, primitivism as a driving force of narrative enables Lawrence to embody affective realities of his characters, thus generating a unique aesthetics of the novel.

D. H. Lawrence asserts in his essay, “Art and Morality,” that art must reveal the momentary things in their own living relatedness to the circumambient universe because all things move and change in the living flux. He calls the representation of art a “delicate, forever trembling and changing balance,” which precedes and accompanies a true relatedness. But as much as the “balance” is not stable or fixed, the novel needs a new method of description to grasp the oscillating moment. As one of the rhetorical methods, Lawrence uses a 'repetitive transformation of gaze,' or a 'pictorial writing.' In this respect, as Mark Kinkead-Weekes said in D. H. Lawrence and the Dance, 'dance' in Lawrence's novels could be an effective means of seeing through characters and their own relatedness in fluidity of movement. Such dance rhetoric could fit the true art representation method, just right for Lawrence's suggestion, to reveal the deeper living relatedness.

This article examines Lawrence's idea of freedom presented in his poems and prose written in the fall of 1922 when he had just arrived at the American continent. D. H. Lawrence mentions the seemingly paradoxical idea of freedom in Studies in Classic American Literature that “[m]en are less free than they imagine; ah, far less free. The freest are perhaps least free” (12). It sounds quite strange because we are used to Sigmund Freud's conceptualization of human freedom in Civilization and Its Discontents as a conflicting relation between the individual and the community. While Freud says that the community needs to limit individual freedom for maintaining its order, Lawrence points out that we are not really free as long as our sense of freedom is constructed only in the level of social ego. To be free, Lawrence argues, the individual should dive into the deepest self of the individual, “driven by It,” not controlled by the conscious self. By the paradoxical questioning of human freedom, Lawrence's prose and poems dismantle our commonsensical notion of freedom.
Lawrence's border crossing to the American continent, in a word, signifies his search for “a living, organic, believing community” (12). Focusing on the poems like “Spirits Summoned West,” “The Red Woolf,” “Eagle in New Mexico,” written just after Lawrence arrived in the US, the article explores the meaning of 'homeless,' the word that captures the poetic narrator's feeling of England, in terms of the paradoxical sense of freedom. Home in these poems symbolizes the place in which there is room for the deepest self. The whole revisions of “Eagle in New Mexico” indicate that individual freedom is only possible by being connected to the deepest self in a living land.