So without further ado, and in the order in which they appear in the book, here they go: Lady Chatterley’s first lover, Michaelis, the colleague of her paralyzed husband (who, admittedly, eventually encourages her to go get pregnant by someone else), is your basic well-dressed dandy.
He visits the Chatterley home, he and the lady get busy, he finishes pretty quickly each time they get together, but the ladyship (as a good D. Lawrence heroine) keeps him inside of her and brings herself to an orgasm by rubbing herself on his thighs.
Some are said by men, some are said by women, but both sexes should avoid pretty much all of them.
I occasionally have the experience of listening to a Caruso aria, then suddenly hearing it as if I was someone who had never listened to opera.
Stepping out of the inside of experience, the ordinary, even the beautiful, can become absurd.
The novel is about poor Constance Chatterley’s quest for happiness, or at least an escape from the real world.
When her husband comes home from the war, he’s paralyzed from the waist down.