In this book, first published in 1927, Lawrence gives us the flavour of Mexico, a place and a culture which he got to know first-hand. Its climax comes in the shape of entrancing accounts of the ceremonial dances at local religious festivals -- the Dance of the Sprouting Corn and the Hopi Snake Dance -- which are also investigations into the nature of religion and art, and what it means to be human.
D.H. Lawrence writes like a painter would write were he to. What is most real in the writings of Lawrence is the physical world, and of course the body. Mornings in Mexico is really a slight work but with a charm to it. There is a relating of facts (especially about Indian life and thought) that you would expect from a travel piece but the charm is in the kind of easy sauntering pace that the narrative keeps. That feeling that it is vacation time and there really is no hurry. The house he lives in for his stay in Mexico and the surrounding markets and open fields in which he walks and the balcony he stands on in the morning with parrot are all pleasantly described. It feels like a place you want to be. The way time away should feel. There is a slight mournful air to the fact that the Americans are beginning to spoil the place, it is as if the Americans have brought that intruder time itself into this timeless land. It's not so much the details you will remember as the overall feel of the work. And Lawrence himself. And here he seems at ease, searching as always but not desperately so, which is a nice Lawrence to spend time with.
2006-12-07
22:29:07
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