Sunshine is a substance of transparency, yet when it touches the soft mist and shines through the concrete droplets, the arc of color manifests and dazzles the human yes. In many ways, this is the journey of man as the essence of living is filtered through the mist of love. D.H. Lawrence's controversial Rainbow makes few reference to the natural phenomenon as rainbow, yet through out the lines, readers feel the "unbearable lightness of being" sipping through to cinch the yearning hearts. Countless twenty-century writers dedicated their finest works to capture this evanescence, and surviving through scandals and suppression is this ambitious piece.

One of the unique faces of The Rainbow is its treatment of characters; instead of expanding from individuals, D.H. Lawrence reverses focus and lets the plot drift along. It's impossible to determine which character is the true protagonist because individuality is simply abashed in this banned work. In place of emphasis on characters, Lawrence traces a circuitous journey through three generations-alternating voices of three generations of Brangwen women. Despite the complexity of this novel however, each of these three women are given their space to dictate the path of their own rainbow. The word "journey" itself is repeated frequently enough, and the torch of change is constantly being passed along. The journey traces from the Polish widow to her Brangwen husband, her daughter to another Brangwen, and eventually the "heiress" of Brangwen memories-Ursula. The mother-daughter loop itself is a symbolic journey as the understanding of love is inherited.

As a novel focusing on the very nature of relationships and their connection to love, to sex, and to God, The Rainbow captures the pain and anguish of each woman as they come to possess the fruit of union with a man. And as the daughter gains voice over the ailing mother, the readers come to see how much time leads the mind towards something new. All characters seek illumination of love, and different from conventional romance novels, The Rainbow traces not the journey of one person, but the journey of an understanding. Anna Brangwen, the daughter of Lydia Lensky, finds a lover with whom she develops "a sensuality violent and extreme as death" (280), a relationship that ends in great fecundity. As her fresh and wishful perspective fades, her eldest daughter, Ursula commands the pace as she comes to possession of passion. Through her youthful flirtation with Anton Skrebensky, Ursula grows to be an emotional teacher eager to share her passion, only finding herself shut down by reality into "a hard, insentient thing" (445). Her meager knowledge of love leads her to a physical and emotional affair with Skrebensky as both grope for the truth behind relationships. But this truth is too grand for both of them as they yield to the tempting nature of passion, and let love pass by. But does the journey stop there?

"The primeval darkness falsified to a social mechanism" (499) is indeed the chimera that propels all characters towards the light of human affections. During a time of great changes, men and women cannot help but clang to one thing that seems unscathed-this primordial sense of protection in the bodies of opposite sex. But this need fades so fast as they probe deeper into the soul in search of the amorphous answer that leaves them sleepless. Just as the sun penetrates through the seductive veil of mist, the characters reach a point where physical relationships is a concrete something that does not satisfy. But while they reach in the darkness of lust for the light of emotional union, all falter just as the beautiful array of colors fade away. The sunshine never fails to reach earth, but it never fails to trick wild hearts into the trap of a surreal realm of love-the paradise beyond the rainbow.

I get the impression that, just as some authors remain fashionable due to their undeserved reputations, Lawrence's reputation suffers from unfounded and unjust criticism. How many people who dismiss Lawrence as a shallow, sex-obsessed writer have actually read him, or if they do read him, merely skip to the "juicy" bits in their desire to be offended? Should you dislike Lawrence, that's OK, but form your opinion after having read him objectively. It worries me too that there are still people out there who advocate the banning of books just because they don't like them - please try to remember Heine's advice. I can almost hear the autos da fe being prepared. I'm firmly of the opinion that the starting presumption should be one of tolerance rather than proscription. What of "The Rainbow"? I think that it's not the best of Lawrence's work that I have read so far - that plaudit belongs to "Sons and Lovers", but it's far better than "The White Peacock", "The Trespasser" and the awful "Lady Chatterley". There are painfully poor parts in the novel: the description of the visit to Lincoln cathedral is embarrassingly bad, and the prose is at times hackneyed, almost becoming a self-parody. Yet, there are excellent passages, such as the death of Tom Brangwen and Ursula's experiences as a school teacher. But the true value of the book is in its in-depth characterisations: the constant, unachieved desire for meaning in life (why aren't I content, now that I've reached this age, what drives me on?); the mixture of love and hate - how strong emotions often exist together rather than excluding each other (ever wondered why couples argue and "make-up"?); and (for the time) ground-breaking exploration of female sexuality. I found this refreshing - how tedious the mythology of boy meets girl, 400 pages of manoeuvering later they get married and live happily ever after. This myth does a great disservice to marriage - what institution could possibly live up to it? Oh, and if you're uncomfortable about that myth being dispelled, good, and read Hardy, Zola and especially Anne Bronte for further enlightenment.

Make no mistake: I would not have read this book unless I was compelled by, say, a teacher. And compelled I was. After finishing it, I think it's a great book and I'm glad that I read it, but paradoxically, I don't think I would do it again.

The only way to describe "The Rainbow" is that it would be more of a masterpiece if you didn't have to read it. If there was somehow a method in which you could absorb this book without cutting through Lawrence's prose, this would be undoubtingly be one of the greatest books ever [not] written.

Unfortunately this is impossible, because the style is inextricably connected with the thematics and direction of the book as a whole. So we as the reader must deal with the prose, because the text is as close as the reader will ever get to the novel, although I think that one of Lawrence's central themes is that the text cannot itself represent life. Hence you have text that attempts to depict life, text that knows implicitly that it will fail at this task, yet text that will try as hard as it can to draw out this picture of three generations of a family.

In class we listed a few adjectives that would describe Lawrence's style for "The Rainbow":

+Repetitive
+Lyrical
+Oppositional
+Fecund
+Slow-motion
+Translated
+Intense

...and the list goes on. If you are very patient and can deal with the text beyond the text, so to speak, you will like this book. If you are like me, you will not like this book, but you will be glad that you read it.