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The Horse-Dealer's Daughter
* Book : The Horse-Dealer's Daughter
* Biography
* Bibliographiy
D.H. Lawrence's 'The Horse Dealer's Daughter' could be described as a story in which boy meets girl. Its plot, on the surface, resembles that of any number of traditionally romantic pastorals: a country boy saves a country girl from drowning, sees something in her that he never saw before, and, at the end of the story, proposes marriage. But, as we soon see, there is nothing typical about Lawrence's story, because the psychological workings of its characters, particularly that of the rescuer, defy all our expectations of how such a story should work. Lawrence cuts through the romanticism inherent in such a plot line to reflect the dark and conflicting feelings of the so-called lovers.
* Biography
* Bibliographiy
D.H. Lawrence's 'The Horse Dealer's Daughter' could be described as a story in which boy meets girl. Its plot, on the surface, resembles that of any number of traditionally romantic pastorals: a country boy saves a country girl from drowning, sees something in her that he never saw before, and, at the end of the story, proposes marriage. But, as we soon see, there is nothing typical about Lawrence's story, because the psychological workings of its characters, particularly that of the rescuer, defy all our expectations of how such a story should work. Lawrence cuts through the romanticism inherent in such a plot line to reflect the dark and conflicting feelings of the so-called lovers.
Kindle Edition
Published November 19, 2017
About the author
D.H. Lawrence
2,146 books3,969 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 47 reviews
July 13, 2024
I love the ambiguity in this short story by DH Lawrence. I am sure I read it decades ago, but I both read it and listened to it. Listened to it first, on a walk and thought it was pretty much a straight-up romance. But when I read it, I slowed down, and found it to be much more complicated, ripe for discussion, useful on the topic of whether Lawrence was a misogynist, I guess (I vote no, decidedly).
The story is about Mabel, a horse-dealer's daughter, and her three rough brothers. Dad has died and they are in financial ruin, and they split up as a family. Jack Fergusson, a doctor from out of town and more middle-class circumstances visits during this time and notices Mabel waiting on her brothers, saying nothing. He watches her when he is there. She will have to move, as well. The men are sexist jerks, and she is alone, isolated.
Later, Mabel goes to her mother's grave, near where the doctor lives. He watches her from his window. She goes down to the pond and walks slowly into the water and disappears. He rushes out, and to make a short story shorter, rescues her and carries her back to the house, removes her clothes and wraps her in a blanket until she awakes. If you really want no spoilers, stop reading this review now.
When Mabel awakes she is not sure what is happened. Did she lose her mind? It appears in her despair and grief she was committing suicide. He doesn't know. He doesn't really know her but he has been watching her, and likes her. She's that ethereal mystery, she has seemed vulnerable to him because of the male dominance in her house. Then she says to him, seeing he saved her and knowing he has watched her, "You love me." He denies this, even to himself. He had no inkling of loving her, he thinks. But then, over time, he agrees he does love her and things go on quickly from there.
Questions remain: Was she suicidal, temporarily mad? Is she trying to manipulate him to marry her? Is it possible there is this moment between two lonely people where they have found each other? All she knows is her bully brothers; is he different, an escape for her from the patriarchal world? Ambiguous. anguished, maddening. I really liked thinking about it these last couple days, that you could interpret it in various ways, but having just read about a similar act--she going into the water--of a young girl in another story, The Discomfort of Evening, by Rijneveld, I shuddered.
Here it is: http://bcs.bedfordstmartins.com/webpu...
The story is about Mabel, a horse-dealer's daughter, and her three rough brothers. Dad has died and they are in financial ruin, and they split up as a family. Jack Fergusson, a doctor from out of town and more middle-class circumstances visits during this time and notices Mabel waiting on her brothers, saying nothing. He watches her when he is there. She will have to move, as well. The men are sexist jerks, and she is alone, isolated.
Later, Mabel goes to her mother's grave, near where the doctor lives. He watches her from his window. She goes down to the pond and walks slowly into the water and disappears. He rushes out, and to make a short story shorter, rescues her and carries her back to the house, removes her clothes and wraps her in a blanket until she awakes. If you really want no spoilers, stop reading this review now.
When Mabel awakes she is not sure what is happened. Did she lose her mind? It appears in her despair and grief she was committing suicide. He doesn't know. He doesn't really know her but he has been watching her, and likes her. She's that ethereal mystery, she has seemed vulnerable to him because of the male dominance in her house. Then she says to him, seeing he saved her and knowing he has watched her, "You love me." He denies this, even to himself. He had no inkling of loving her, he thinks. But then, over time, he agrees he does love her and things go on quickly from there.
Questions remain: Was she suicidal, temporarily mad? Is she trying to manipulate him to marry her? Is it possible there is this moment between two lonely people where they have found each other? All she knows is her bully brothers; is he different, an escape for her from the patriarchal world? Ambiguous. anguished, maddening. I really liked thinking about it these last couple days, that you could interpret it in various ways, but having just read about a similar act--she going into the water--of a young girl in another story, The Discomfort of Evening, by Rijneveld, I shuddered.
Here it is: http://bcs.bedfordstmartins.com/webpu...
September 22, 2024
In George Saunders's analysis of Russian short stories (A Swim in a Pond in the Rain: In Which Four Russians Give a Master Class on Writing, Reading, and Life) he claims that ambiguity enhances a tale, brings it to life, and creates space for the reader.
There is much ambiguity in The Horse Dealer's Daughter, a short story. The main characters are four of the horse dealer's adult children, 3 men and one young woman, the daughter of the title. Their father is recently deceased and his business has been in decline. Upon his death the family discovers they are burdened with debts.
Reviewers here tend to view this as sort of a love story, but really the underlying framework is depression and hopelessness. Can love truly be constructed on such a miserable foundation?
Giving this five stars because of how much it has occupied me since reading, how I keep turning it over and looking at it from different directions. It is not very popular here, not much happens apparently (Everything Happens!!), but it is powerful. The ambiguity is strong in this one.
There is much ambiguity in The Horse Dealer's Daughter, a short story. The main characters are four of the horse dealer's adult children, 3 men and one young woman, the daughter of the title. Their father is recently deceased and his business has been in decline. Upon his death the family discovers they are burdened with debts.
Reviewers here tend to view this as sort of a love story, but really the underlying framework is depression and hopelessness. Can love truly be constructed on such a miserable foundation?
Giving this five stars because of how much it has occupied me since reading, how I keep turning it over and looking at it from different directions. It is not very popular here, not much happens apparently (Everything Happens!!), but it is powerful. The ambiguity is strong in this one.
November 14, 2021
Spellbinding and captivating are the best words to describe this short story.
The way D.H Lawrence depicts love feels almost religious in a way : the moment you fall in love seems like an earthshattering experience that permanently changes your perception of life. It creates two distincts parts of your life : the "before" and the "after" and it becomes quite impossible to remember how you used to perceive the person you fell in love with, before it actually happened.
I also think that the shortness of this book doesn't impair the narration, quite on the contrary, i think that it serves the plot very well because it emphasizes the sudden change in Jack's and Mabel's lives.
The writing was absolutely gorgeous and the descriptions were incredibly beautiful too.
The way D.H Lawrence depicts love feels almost religious in a way : the moment you fall in love seems like an earthshattering experience that permanently changes your perception of life. It creates two distincts parts of your life : the "before" and the "after" and it becomes quite impossible to remember how you used to perceive the person you fell in love with, before it actually happened.
I also think that the shortness of this book doesn't impair the narration, quite on the contrary, i think that it serves the plot very well because it emphasizes the sudden change in Jack's and Mabel's lives.
The writing was absolutely gorgeous and the descriptions were incredibly beautiful too.
December 7, 2018
Ummm...that was interesting. Can’t really tell if the ending was supposed to be happy or tragic. Either way it was strange
June 14, 2021
suicidal gestures are met with promises of everlasting love. Don’t try this at home.
July 30, 2019
West End Road starts along highway 299 and veers down into a valley, dropping, somewhat abruptly into a swale of redwoods. When you’re on your bike, the green-toned shadow of the trees rises up to meet you as the road drops. Even though the ride is smooth, there is a toppling involved going down the hill. Moving under the heavy shade is like jumping into a sylvan lake. The heat of the day is overwhelmed by the layers of shadow which is dappled on the road in thick acrylic drips like a Pollock; some of them are so dark they look like pot holes. This effect is produced by the piling of the mixed coniferous and deciduous canopy. First there are the hefty ferns hanging palm-like in green bursts along the ground, there are the dappled oaks and their broad lobed leaves. Above those there are some tangled and mossy shore pines, knobby pine cones growing directly from the branches like sores, and above these, a few scattered redwoods. Each one of these trees throws its own shadow onto the street when the sun is overhead. In places where only the ferns or the oaks cover the sun, the shadow is lime or kelly green and it goes down the light spectrum with each overlap. Green becomes blue green and then blue gum and finally an inky midnight blue, each layer adding, also, a cooling effect. The deeper the shade, the cooler it feels. Imagine the opposite of a spotlight, a beam of cool dimness, now multiply it hundreds of times, but maintaining a fragility which is set to stirring even in the slightest breeze. On the street, while above ground, you simultaneously are at the bottom of an algal pond, drifting through kelp forests and under lily pads.
When you come out of the swale, the trees sweep out and reveal a golden valley of dry and sun-battered grasses. Grasshoppers can be seen flinging themselves up and catching the light of the sun like coins tossed into a summer afternoon fountain, flashing brightly before falling toward the water. There are frequently deer nosing through the grasses and no matter the time of day, there is always a just-before-evening quality to the light in the valley. Though the road passes a few homes, no one is ever out, if they are, they’re way back in the distant fields, so far you have to squint to see them. When you do, they seem to be waving. It’s hard to be sure, but, to be safe, you wave back anyway. A few farm animals nose the fences. Curious sheep and horses glance up from where they’re chewing, but seem too contended to bother about investigating you and your aimless waving arm.
Where the road comes to a fork, the Mad River sloshes through its gravely bed. In warm weather, whole families sit along its banks, children wading out into the stone-colored water and dogs swimming silently with their heads straining through the ripples and wavelets, dragging entire branches like beavers building a dam. There’s music playing, but it’s far enough away from the top of the bridge where you cross over this scene, the melody can barely be discerned, but the words have been worn away like the magnetic dust which eventually falls off videos and cassettes leaving only static and a watery beat.
At the end of the bridge the village of Blue Lake begins with it’s customary turn-of-the-century logging architecture, boxy, primary and half-covered in multi-paned windows of old, wobbly glass. There are no curtains up because in many of the buildings, there is nothing to see behind the windows but the afternoon darkness which, seen from the outside always reflects back as a sort of pewter. Downtown there’s a bar, a cafe which is permanently closed and gradually reverting to abandonment and a few large municipal-looking building that have been converted into community centers of various stripes with swollen doors and rusty locks which are shot back no more than once a week. The main street (I have no idea what’s it’s called), rises about a quarter block and levels out in a neighborhood so residential, it’s difficult to believe it could be anywhere near a bar or any place without a swing set in the backyard. There’s nothing to do in Blue Lake except look at the creaky Victorian houses and imagine living in them. Waking up with the perpetually evening sun shining in the windows, feeling the worn wood under your feet, listening to the gentle squeaks and pops of the stairs, coffee already brewing in a tiled kitchen that smells perpetually of drying dill and basil. The dull peaceful feeling of Saturday exuding from the place where the sun is shining on an old cat and an older rug.
But there’s no reason to keep going into Blue Lake and peering into people’s windows, cursing under my breath about the exorbitant housing market. Back by the river there’s a berm that sits slightly above a field, creating an embankment that looks out over the mountains to the north east, the field, wide and blank, acting like an earthen reflecting pool, a mantle spread out from the shoulders of the mountains. The bank is full with the spice of crushed and goldenrod grasses, deer urine and hay. A place to lean up against the afternoon and to study and memorize a moment of summer.
I sit down in the long grass and read “The Horse Dealer’s Daughter” by DH Lawrence. In the story, a respectable middle class family of three brothers and a sister lose their means and must vacate the only home they’ve ever known. The brothers, somewhat assured a living, poor as it may be, are not much bothered by the imminent loss of their home. But the sister, Mabel—a name that must’ve translated better in England in 1922—is left to move in with a sister, forced into her employ. She is later seen from up on a hill by a friend of the family, a doctor, walking deliberately into a pond until she disappears under the water “in the dusk of the dead afternoon”. What a contrast to the gentle stirrings of the field, the unbroken cerulean sky, the summer warmth and the bright the trill of bugsong. I had been down to the bottom of the pond in the swale of trees on West End Road, but it had been a clean decent. There had been none of the muck, the “foul, earthy water” described in the story.
Mable is saved, or she saves the man who rescues her or they both fall prey to their baser instincts and deprive the heroic act of all validity or perhaps they both drowned after all. What else can happen to two people and a body of water? If it wasn’t one of these things, it was all of them.
After the story, I stay for a moment, comparing the view of the mountains to the stagnant English pond I’ve been reading about. Even on the warm, dry day, I feel like I’ve got a little murky water in my ears, a little of the rotten clay under my fingernails, some algae in my hair. The feeling makes me itch, but I ignore it, hop on my bike and take the cleansing ride back through the shade pools and sun baths along the road back home. It’s a classic summer afternoon, difficult to leave, but fading, very naturally, to quiet in the evening. That’s how all long summer days shake you off: When the sun finally sets, the warmth under your skin makes the sheets cool and sleep comes on so gently, it takes you by surprise, somewhat like finding yourself tossed up into the air and then, pop, you’re asleep, back under the cool weight of the evening, as if you'd been coming up for air.
When you come out of the swale, the trees sweep out and reveal a golden valley of dry and sun-battered grasses. Grasshoppers can be seen flinging themselves up and catching the light of the sun like coins tossed into a summer afternoon fountain, flashing brightly before falling toward the water. There are frequently deer nosing through the grasses and no matter the time of day, there is always a just-before-evening quality to the light in the valley. Though the road passes a few homes, no one is ever out, if they are, they’re way back in the distant fields, so far you have to squint to see them. When you do, they seem to be waving. It’s hard to be sure, but, to be safe, you wave back anyway. A few farm animals nose the fences. Curious sheep and horses glance up from where they’re chewing, but seem too contended to bother about investigating you and your aimless waving arm.
Where the road comes to a fork, the Mad River sloshes through its gravely bed. In warm weather, whole families sit along its banks, children wading out into the stone-colored water and dogs swimming silently with their heads straining through the ripples and wavelets, dragging entire branches like beavers building a dam. There’s music playing, but it’s far enough away from the top of the bridge where you cross over this scene, the melody can barely be discerned, but the words have been worn away like the magnetic dust which eventually falls off videos and cassettes leaving only static and a watery beat.
At the end of the bridge the village of Blue Lake begins with it’s customary turn-of-the-century logging architecture, boxy, primary and half-covered in multi-paned windows of old, wobbly glass. There are no curtains up because in many of the buildings, there is nothing to see behind the windows but the afternoon darkness which, seen from the outside always reflects back as a sort of pewter. Downtown there’s a bar, a cafe which is permanently closed and gradually reverting to abandonment and a few large municipal-looking building that have been converted into community centers of various stripes with swollen doors and rusty locks which are shot back no more than once a week. The main street (I have no idea what’s it’s called), rises about a quarter block and levels out in a neighborhood so residential, it’s difficult to believe it could be anywhere near a bar or any place without a swing set in the backyard. There’s nothing to do in Blue Lake except look at the creaky Victorian houses and imagine living in them. Waking up with the perpetually evening sun shining in the windows, feeling the worn wood under your feet, listening to the gentle squeaks and pops of the stairs, coffee already brewing in a tiled kitchen that smells perpetually of drying dill and basil. The dull peaceful feeling of Saturday exuding from the place where the sun is shining on an old cat and an older rug.
But there’s no reason to keep going into Blue Lake and peering into people’s windows, cursing under my breath about the exorbitant housing market. Back by the river there’s a berm that sits slightly above a field, creating an embankment that looks out over the mountains to the north east, the field, wide and blank, acting like an earthen reflecting pool, a mantle spread out from the shoulders of the mountains. The bank is full with the spice of crushed and goldenrod grasses, deer urine and hay. A place to lean up against the afternoon and to study and memorize a moment of summer.
I sit down in the long grass and read “The Horse Dealer’s Daughter” by DH Lawrence. In the story, a respectable middle class family of three brothers and a sister lose their means and must vacate the only home they’ve ever known. The brothers, somewhat assured a living, poor as it may be, are not much bothered by the imminent loss of their home. But the sister, Mabel—a name that must’ve translated better in England in 1922—is left to move in with a sister, forced into her employ. She is later seen from up on a hill by a friend of the family, a doctor, walking deliberately into a pond until she disappears under the water “in the dusk of the dead afternoon”. What a contrast to the gentle stirrings of the field, the unbroken cerulean sky, the summer warmth and the bright the trill of bugsong. I had been down to the bottom of the pond in the swale of trees on West End Road, but it had been a clean decent. There had been none of the muck, the “foul, earthy water” described in the story.
Mable is saved, or she saves the man who rescues her or they both fall prey to their baser instincts and deprive the heroic act of all validity or perhaps they both drowned after all. What else can happen to two people and a body of water? If it wasn’t one of these things, it was all of them.
After the story, I stay for a moment, comparing the view of the mountains to the stagnant English pond I’ve been reading about. Even on the warm, dry day, I feel like I’ve got a little murky water in my ears, a little of the rotten clay under my fingernails, some algae in my hair. The feeling makes me itch, but I ignore it, hop on my bike and take the cleansing ride back through the shade pools and sun baths along the road back home. It’s a classic summer afternoon, difficult to leave, but fading, very naturally, to quiet in the evening. That’s how all long summer days shake you off: When the sun finally sets, the warmth under your skin makes the sheets cool and sleep comes on so gently, it takes you by surprise, somewhat like finding yourself tossed up into the air and then, pop, you’re asleep, back under the cool weight of the evening, as if you'd been coming up for air.
December 1, 2024
[3.5 stars]
It was the heat of the night and love is a blind ambition
-Concrete Blonde
It was the heat of the night and love is a blind ambition
-Concrete Blonde
Read
March 28, 2024moest er een essay over schrijven, dus dan gaat ie in de goodreads
bizar verhaal, dat leuker werd naarmate ik er meer wetenschappelijke artikelen over las
bizar verhaal, dat leuker werd naarmate ik er meer wetenschappelijke artikelen over las
October 15, 2015
Mabel might have become, in about 25 pages of literature, one of the most annoying characters I have EVER read about...an impressive achievement.
A posh rich girl who cannot swallow her own pride and do a job that will support her family decides it will be "better to die than to do any peasant jobs." She then proceeds to attempt suicide, admittedly something I wasn't devastated about, to only be saved by the courageous doctor risking his own life for this impudent, cynical, spoiled brat of a girl to only be forced into marrying her due to saving her life. Yes your read that correctly. What?!?!?!
A man, with too much honor, has unwittingly consigned himself to a tragic fate, more tragic than that of Romeo and Juliet, as he is forced to endure this girl for the rest of his life...
A posh rich girl who cannot swallow her own pride and do a job that will support her family decides it will be "better to die than to do any peasant jobs." She then proceeds to attempt suicide, admittedly something I wasn't devastated about, to only be saved by the courageous doctor risking his own life for this impudent, cynical, spoiled brat of a girl to only be forced into marrying her due to saving her life. Yes your read that correctly. What?!?!?!
A man, with too much honor, has unwittingly consigned himself to a tragic fate, more tragic than that of Romeo and Juliet, as he is forced to endure this girl for the rest of his life...
June 11, 2013
Not entirely too much happens, but I must admit that I sincerely appreciate Lawrence's writing. It may not be his finest text, but it's probably the first time I was able to take notice of what talent he has. There is, after all, a reason his writing has been canonized.
February 21, 2018
That's one way to nab a husband
May 29, 2024
Two people ambushed by love . We start off with the prosaic , a family of four sibs whose father left them and the business . The business fails and the three brothers wonder what their spinster sister will do. They can make their way in the world but she must live with their married sister . The spinster is silent , characterised as stubborn by her sibs and their visiting friend , a young doctor .
Then we follow the spinster and her existence in a sort of bardo , visiting the grave of the dead mother . What follows is masterful . How we succumb to or resist moments of transformation , of ecstasy . Brilliant.
Then we follow the spinster and her existence in a sort of bardo , visiting the grave of the dead mother . What follows is masterful . How we succumb to or resist moments of transformation , of ecstasy . Brilliant.
January 28, 2020
Read for my Monderism class at University.
3.5 stars
3.5 stars
May 14, 2023
My thoughts...
A lady has nowhere to go after her family becomes impoverished. She goes to drown herself in a pond, but is saved by a local doctor. He takes her home, dries her off and falls in love with her. The emotions are raw and real and he is sucked into it.
I liked the story for its intensity and strangely happy ending.
AI's thoughts using the the prompts
What is the higher purpose of this genre and where does this book fit into the genre? Are there any foundational readings that can be done to enhance one's understanding of the story? What social or cultural influences can be seen it this particular story?
"The Horse Dealer's Daughter" by D.H. Lawrence is a short story that can be categorized under the genre of modernist literature.
The higher purpose of the modernist literature genre is to break away from traditional literary forms and conventions, and to explore new and innovative approaches to storytelling. This genre aims to challenge readers' perceptions and expectations, and to provide a fresh perspective on the complexities of modern life.
"The Horse Dealer's Daughter" is a modernist short story that explores themes of love, identity, and self-discovery. The story focuses on Mabel, the daughter of a horse dealer, who is struggling to find her place in the world after the death of her father. The story is marked by a sense of ambiguity and uncertainty, as Mabel grapples with her own feelings of confusion and disorientation.
As a work of modernist literature, "The Horse Dealer's Daughter" is characterized by its use of stream-of-consciousness narration, fragmented structure, and ambiguous symbolism. The story challenges readers' expectations of a traditional narrative, and encourages them to engage with the text on a deeper level.
Overall, the higher purpose of "The Horse Dealer's Daughter" and the modernist literature genre is to challenge readers to think differently about the world around them, and to explore new and innovative approaches to storytelling. This genre aims to break down the boundaries between different art forms and disciplines, and to encourage experimentation and innovation in literature. Through its focus on complex themes and unconventional narrative techniques, modernist literature can provide readers with a unique and thought-provoking reading experience.
To enhance one's understanding of "The Horse Dealer's Daughter" by D.H. Lawrence, it may be helpful to explore some of the literary and philosophical movements that influenced the author and the story.
Lawrence was a key figure in the modernist literary movement, which emerged in the early 20th century as a response to the perceived limitations of traditional literary forms and conventions. Modernist writers sought to break down the boundaries between different art forms and disciplines, and to experiment with new and innovative approaches to storytelling. Understanding the key features of modernist literature can help readers to appreciate the unique style and structure of "The Horse Dealer's Daughter."
In addition to modernism, Lawrence was also influenced by various philosophical and psychological ideas. For example, the story's focus on the inner workings of the characters' minds reflects the influence of Sigmund Freud's psychoanalytic theory, which was gaining popularity during the early 20th century. Lawrence was also influenced by the work of Friedrich Nietzsche, particularly his ideas about the will to power and the pursuit of individual greatness.
Exploring these literary and philosophical influences can provide readers with a deeper understanding of the themes and ideas explored in "The Horse Dealer's Daughter." It may also be helpful to examine Lawrence's other works, such as his novels and poetry, to gain a broader understanding of his style and worldview.
A lady has nowhere to go after her family becomes impoverished. She goes to drown herself in a pond, but is saved by a local doctor. He takes her home, dries her off and falls in love with her. The emotions are raw and real and he is sucked into it.
I liked the story for its intensity and strangely happy ending.
AI's thoughts using the the prompts
What is the higher purpose of this genre and where does this book fit into the genre? Are there any foundational readings that can be done to enhance one's understanding of the story? What social or cultural influences can be seen it this particular story?
"The Horse Dealer's Daughter" by D.H. Lawrence is a short story that can be categorized under the genre of modernist literature.
The higher purpose of the modernist literature genre is to break away from traditional literary forms and conventions, and to explore new and innovative approaches to storytelling. This genre aims to challenge readers' perceptions and expectations, and to provide a fresh perspective on the complexities of modern life.
"The Horse Dealer's Daughter" is a modernist short story that explores themes of love, identity, and self-discovery. The story focuses on Mabel, the daughter of a horse dealer, who is struggling to find her place in the world after the death of her father. The story is marked by a sense of ambiguity and uncertainty, as Mabel grapples with her own feelings of confusion and disorientation.
As a work of modernist literature, "The Horse Dealer's Daughter" is characterized by its use of stream-of-consciousness narration, fragmented structure, and ambiguous symbolism. The story challenges readers' expectations of a traditional narrative, and encourages them to engage with the text on a deeper level.
Overall, the higher purpose of "The Horse Dealer's Daughter" and the modernist literature genre is to challenge readers to think differently about the world around them, and to explore new and innovative approaches to storytelling. This genre aims to break down the boundaries between different art forms and disciplines, and to encourage experimentation and innovation in literature. Through its focus on complex themes and unconventional narrative techniques, modernist literature can provide readers with a unique and thought-provoking reading experience.
To enhance one's understanding of "The Horse Dealer's Daughter" by D.H. Lawrence, it may be helpful to explore some of the literary and philosophical movements that influenced the author and the story.
Lawrence was a key figure in the modernist literary movement, which emerged in the early 20th century as a response to the perceived limitations of traditional literary forms and conventions. Modernist writers sought to break down the boundaries between different art forms and disciplines, and to experiment with new and innovative approaches to storytelling. Understanding the key features of modernist literature can help readers to appreciate the unique style and structure of "The Horse Dealer's Daughter."
In addition to modernism, Lawrence was also influenced by various philosophical and psychological ideas. For example, the story's focus on the inner workings of the characters' minds reflects the influence of Sigmund Freud's psychoanalytic theory, which was gaining popularity during the early 20th century. Lawrence was also influenced by the work of Friedrich Nietzsche, particularly his ideas about the will to power and the pursuit of individual greatness.
Exploring these literary and philosophical influences can provide readers with a deeper understanding of the themes and ideas explored in "The Horse Dealer's Daughter." It may also be helpful to examine Lawrence's other works, such as his novels and poetry, to gain a broader understanding of his style and worldview.
January 27, 2021
Smooth, strange, sad, and soft - I don’t know how Lawrence did it but this may be one of my favorite short stories ever. He describes the fervor and ache of love so beautifully and so intimately it’s breathtaking.
November 16, 2016
I enjoyed this story! I love modern fiction.
March 22, 2022
I read this story and You Touched Me several years ago in a pocket sized edition which I have kept on the shelf of books which caprivated me. I re-read them now and they are still gripping, generating a kind of visceral feeling in me. They are both exquisite. D.H. Lawrence delves deep into the psyche of his characters who are entangled in complex and contradictory, intense emotions. They experience despair, hopelessness and also indifference and reluctance to be drawn into a love affair. And yet they do fall in love, it would seem despite themselves. Their brains reason, their hearts ache with nascent love.
Both stories were written in the early 1920s and depict a common social situation where hardship and poverty are borne more severely by the women who depend on men and have few opportunities of supporting themselves. Getting married is the main way out of misery. In both stories the hopeless situation of the heroines is redeemed by the miracle of love. In this respect, the stories reflect their time, although there are parts of the world today where women are in even worse situations.
D. H Lawrence observes with a keen eye the mysterious workings of our soul and heart when we fall in love and the ever present agonising doubt about being truly loved. He writes about them with gentleness and compassion. He also writes tenderly about moments of great sensuality. Falling in love is one of the few truly sublime moments in our lives. The author captures both the bewilderment and the exhilaration of the moment.
January 22, 2023
I just finished this with a coffee. It's the velvet hour. I like what I read and what I imbibe to be the waking kind at night.
When I first read this story, I was all of nineteen. A nun shut the classroom door before we began. There must have been some discussion though I can't recall. Unlike me, always putting in my two bits, I sat in silence through the hour. I felt ashamed and shocked by what I had read. The passion was naked, violent, and raw. And still is all these years later.
D. H. Lawrence aims his pen like a cupid's arrow and hits his target.
When I first read this story, I was all of nineteen. A nun shut the classroom door before we began. There must have been some discussion though I can't recall. Unlike me, always putting in my two bits, I sat in silence through the hour. I felt ashamed and shocked by what I had read. The passion was naked, violent, and raw. And still is all these years later.
D. H. Lawrence aims his pen like a cupid's arrow and hits his target.
August 20, 2022
,,He never intended to love her"
,,They were shy of one another"
THE DEPICTION OF LOVE IN THIS PIECE>>>
tho i suppose we will never know if he really came to love her
why did he have to add that she had -small breasts-
Zašto je Mejbl NEIRONICNO shvatila ,,krlja brat kolena"
,,They were shy of one another"
THE DEPICTION OF LOVE IN THIS PIECE>>>
tho i suppose we will never know if he really came to love her
why did he have to add that she had -small breasts-
Zašto je Mejbl NEIRONICNO shvatila ,,krlja brat kolena"
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 18, 2025
Stumbled into reading this quite by accident lol just like how the doctor stumbled about the girl and the feelings it gave me is too new for me to know how I really about it but I'm intrigued at least??
May 14, 2017
Read it again after quite time but still it feels the same.
Something strange, sad or unusual.
Something strange, sad or unusual.
October 3, 2017
Same review as the white stocking. I like Lawrence so far.
December 27, 2018
Liked it more than I thought I would! It was entertaining.
June 9, 2019
read The Dealer and the Druggie on wattpad. blah
Read
April 30, 2021don't really know what to think about it lol
February 13, 2022
This is the most bizarre short story I’ve ever read. I really liked Mabel until she became delusional and declared her love for Jack fergusson
March 8, 2022
A powerful short story and beautifully written! The ending, though, makes me keep thinking….was it a happy ending? Or was it tragic? Or…..
March 14, 2022
absolutely breathtaking
August 22, 2022
how romantic
April 7, 2023
Intimate and beautiful. The prose crackles like a hearth side fire. The tension and desperation are palpable. A real page turner!
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