Gifford, Terry, Reading D.H. Lawrence in the Anthropocene

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Terry Gifford, Reading D.H. Lawrence in the Anthropocene (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2025) 280pp. £95 Hb. ISBN: 9781399535939

Terry Gifford’s D.H. Lawrence in the Anthropocene offers readers a comprehensive compilation of works by Lawrencian scholars that follows a cleverly crafted and well-written introduction attesting to the importance of Lawrence’s works. Gifford opens the introduction with an excerpt from ‘Fatality,’ referring to the tree of life: ‘it is a poem about what we need to lose in order to gain renewal in that “circulating sap”’ – a quote and notion that encompasses what readers can expect from the fifteen chapters that are to follow (2). Not only does Gifford expertly prepare readers about non-human life and relations, as well as our civic duties to live sustainably in order to promote futurity as a response to the Anthropocene, since we are reading Lawrence’s work from a difference lens, he also reminds us that ‘humans act as a “geological force”’ and that we have now entered a new era, the Anthropocene Working Group (3). Thus, we can benefit from Lawrence’s ‘regenerative values’ and ‘reoriented energies’ (5). To assist readers parse through this new and mostly bountiful scholarship, Gifford has taken the time to organise the chapters into five parts.

Beginning with Fiona Becket’s work as the first chapter sets a precedent for the other authors, but it also introduces key concepts for the remainder of part one that comes up throughout the rest of the book. She brings attention to the green values that are promoted within Lawrence’s writing, even if ‘his thoughts are frequently conflicted’ about the natural world and our place in it (22). Becket also helps create a foundation for this compilation, especially with her emphasis on bridging animals, plants, and the climate to ‘dismantle the exclusive hierarchies of traditional Western humanism and recast key concepts such as embodiment’ (Braidotti qtd. in Becket 23). With her final contribution addressing ‘Lawrence’s writing of the “Other”’ Becket highlights ideas that many authors will focus on, such as relationships – an unavoidable topic throughout the compilation. Some chapters are clearer than others in their writing, though. Much like Becket, Jeffrey Mathes McCarthy, in chapter two provides a well-written chapter. He begins with a response to Lawrence’s ‘critique of…society’ (33) with ideas about ‘green aesthetics’ (33)  before arguing that the ‘New Materialist’ is ‘based on mutual respect in a political body that allows that peaceful co-existence of agencies and ideas’ (40). Therefore, completing a reading of Lawrence today based on McCarthy, we can apply those green values not just to the environment but to society, politics, etc for harmonious living. Neil Roberts’s chapter takes a drastic turn and focuses on Lawrence believing that humans were destructive. However, Roberts also notes that Lawrence believes that humans will become ‘the tamest’ with their animals and livestock (49). Another anomaly for chapter three is that this is the only chapter in part one about art, which poses the question: is this the right part for this chapter? Roberts highlights Lawrence’s shift in perspective in the 1920s about the Romans, which also reveals key details about his outlook on the natural world – thoughts gathered and documented like ‘destroying the natural flowering of life’ (50).

As we move into part two with Carrie Rohman’s chapter, we are immediately faced with another chapter about art. Thus, the two chapters are back-to-back but not in the same parts – does this matter? Rohman’s chapter, though, is lovely! She begins by examining the art and discusses how the textiles, particularly ‘earthly pigments’ of ‘paint’ serve as a medium for Lawrence’s ideas about humans and non-humans, which are used to ‘reframe, rediscover, and reintegrate the human experience’ (61). Rohman captures Lawrence’s ability to acknowledge the use of earthy tones in paintings of humans that also take on the shapes of trees and other parts of the landscapes to blend into the ecosystem, as one, which suggests her understanding of Lawrence’s premonition as a writer but also for what the future held, which is why this compilation exists. In chapter five, Marie Bertrand presents the idea that ‘the mental life might not be so incompatible with the material life,’ ‘ because human inventions and schemes have often proved to have harmful effects on our planet, the human mind has consequently been considered the enemy of nature, rather than as an ally for its preservation’ (81). Despite making progress in society – electricity is the example Bertrand uses in her chapter – we will always need our natural resources and the ability to return to our roots. Without living sustainably and making plans to preserve that will no longer be an option. This is something that the next author, Tim Gupwell, is passionate about, among other things. He writes: ‘Reforming the Anthropocene means rethinking modernity’ (93). The premise, for Gupwell, is that everything and everyone is interrelated. He emphasises ‘Relationality’ (94). Gupwell highlights Lawrence’s views on humans and their belief that nature is ‘a collection of exploitable resources’ and that everything can be measured ‘in quantitative terms’ (95). ‘It has also encouraged an every-growing individualism which has led to fruitless competition, the war of all against all, a frenzied accumulation of capital and property, and all this at the expense of the rest of the planet’ (95). Building relationships is, ultimately, the answer, as it prevents alienation and individualism in the natural world, which becomes dangerous. Perhaps the key to moving forward, as suggested by Gupwell, is that ‘we need a way of life based on life values rather than money values’ (101).

Harry Acton begins, for us, a new part with chapter seven. His discussion of Lawrence’s later fiction flourishes at the beginning but leaves the reader with an abrupt conclusion, as he switches to a very brief analysis of Kangaroo before concluding: was the Kangaroo addition necessary, or was it the teaser for a larger work? Maria Trejling, in chapter eight, poses the burning issue in relation to Lawrence’s works; if it ‘is possible to share this world with those who are other to us’ another question is begged: how different are we from non-humans, and how does that contribute to the isolation or individualism she and other contributors bring up time and time again (127)? Trejling thoughtfully argues that the Anthropocene changes how we read, which is, perhaps, why we are now reading Lawrence’s work differently (128). She also emphasises the concept of death in nature and how we are re-integrated with the world we were born from: ‘to live is to be immersed in a world and to carry a world that also carries us’ (137). Whilst Catherine Brown, author of chapter nine, is not discussing natural death, she addresses the death of non-humans in relation to consumption. She alerts readers that ‘Lawrence is, in general, reluctant to countenance the killing of individuals’ (151). Yet, by the end of her chapter, she assures us that ‘the frequency with which he returned to the topic during his last five years indicates that it was one of unresolved importance to him’ (153).

Part four, which I believe to be the most successful part as whole, begins with Fiona Fleming’s chapter. Fleming writes ‘forests altered…people’s imaginations and, in turn, how they altered forests and their relationships with them’ (159). Thus, she brings attention to how animism influenced Lawrence’s approach. She shares the key concept and brilliant idea of trees as ‘living, ‘thinking’ beings,’ thus leading him ‘to develop his own version of arboreal animism’ (164). Much like some of the other authors in this compilation, Fleming places emphasis on renewal, adaptability, and conservation. Because of this animism, and the ability to communicate with trees – should humans allow for that communication – Fleming makes her most prominent argument towards the end of her chapter: ‘Trees are essential to human life’ (173). This argument becomes a thread that is seen throughout the fourth part of the book – relations between humans and plants, or trees. Patrick Armstrong’s chapter eleven examines that relationship from a different angle. He argues that Lawrence’s works have been forcing ‘readers to reconfigure common misconceptions of the individual and the environment’ (180-181). In addition, he notes that ‘through navigating vast scales’ we have been challenged ‘to reframe ideas of the self, non-human life, and the world around us’ (181). He utilises exquisite examples to explain this concept, like ‘there is a tiny clump of trees bare on the hill-top – small beeches – writhing like iron in the blue sky’ (184). The last chapter in this part was written by Chao Xie. He focuses on the agency of and relationship with plants, as well as floral extinction. By bringing attention to Lawrence’s experience with botany, Xie does something that the other authors have not yet done. He argues that ‘this idea views non-human elements as having agency and therefore dramatically disrupts the boundary between human and nonhuman beings,’ which is based on research from Aristotle’s hierarchical division of the natural world and Charles Darwin’s The Power of Movement in Plants (1880) (193-196). One major overlap between authors thus far, and something that Xie ends on, is that ‘“what we want is to…re-establish the organic connections, with the cosmos, the sun and earth, with mankind”’, which once again, reaffirms the idea that there is a need for relations rather than isolation (202).

Part five begins with Jeff Wallace’s chapter, which deals with the concept of power and its ability to assume multiple meanings. He meticulously divulges the difference between hierarchy and mastery for readers (215). Wallace’s chapter places emphasis on the non-human, quoting Gregory Bateson: ‘the creature that wins against its environment destroys itself’ (220) Here, readers gain a sense of that non-human ‘joy’ that he weaves into his writing later in the chapter, which is what authors attempt to share about Lawrence’s writing and the human and non-human relationships in his works (222). The key phrase for the compilation comes from chapter fourteen. Howard J. Booth examines nature in relation to the damage caused by humans, as well as how they can transform it (226). He further explains that we need to ‘engage’ with nature and to co-exist with it, as Lawrence suggested – things that remain relevant today (226). The key phrase, however, is that we need to build ‘relationships’ with nature (226). Although there have been variations of this throughout the compilation, this is the simplest form of it being stated, which makes it the most important. He also frames this lack of relationship as a ‘disenchantment of the world,’ so how do we fix that? (Weber qtd. in Booth 227). The final chapter maybe offers an answer or, at least, hope. It is the best chapter for a conclusion for this compilation, by far! Adrian Tait chooses to complete a new reading of one of Lawrence’s works – one with the original definition of Apocalypse – meaning ‘better times’ ahead (242). He argues that the ‘word ‘Nature’ marks our separation from the more-than-human world, distinguishing us from it, and condemning us through that separation’ (245). He challenges the notion of the self, as isolation can be thought of as ‘destroying the world’ (249). Thus, the future of nature relies on connectivity (248).

Gifford’s book was a treat to read. There is a chapter available for every reader interested in D.H. Lawrence and the Anthropocene, as this book is especially inclusive. The visual material, in colour print at the back of the book, is a lovely addition to assist with our visualisation as we immerse ourselves in the art chapters. Although not perfect, these fifteen beautiful chapters are a work of art themselves, and Gifford and the authors should be entirely proud. So, in the words of Lawrence, I’m going to ‘be a good animal, true to your animal instincts,’ and keep this book on my shelf; I recommend it for others, too.

Brittani Allen, Cardiff University

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