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The Shadow in the Rose Garden
A good-looking lady marries a man Frank, who is lower than her in status. She had been in love with an army man Archie, who later went to war and was reported dead of sunstroke. Exactly at the day when she received the news of her lover’s death she met her to-be- husband and decided to marry him. Though she married Frank, would she be able to forget her lover Archie?
- GenresShort StoriesRomance
Paperback
First published January 1, 1914
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About the author
D.H. Lawrence
2,090 books4,233 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 - 10 of 10 reviews
July 30, 2021
The whole thing is picteresque, as if plucked out from a basin of memory. This enchanting story is a dream ,a nostalgic, bittersweet affair. From the start. With its captivating descriptions of the little guest cottage, to the characters and their encounters is just a thing to learn. The meeting with the officer- leaves you feeling so raw that you feel surreal ,after the gentle tease into the beginning, with its scenery and all. Each dialogue hitting you as a blow to the heart, as to the character experiencing it. That's how good of a story this is, it makes you feel the pain.The ending, ofcourse is even better. What I cannot comprehend is how Mr Lawrence has sewn in this incredible charm, this whole romantic touch to the whole narration, as well as making it an emotionally connecting and captivating story. The ending, as all beautiful endings in my world are, is human. It is not 'happy' or anything, it's just there. There's a whole memory-like abruptness to it, a long thrown childhood fantasy being revisited of some sort. An end before closure itself. Loved it.
January 26, 2018
"She looked at him. His hands seemed gross to her, the back of his head paltry". DH Lawrence is unforgiving in documenting the tenuous relationship between a husband and wife; and the idea of unrequited love. There's a scene that precedes this encounter. The woman (who like the man is purposely nameless) meets her lover in a garden. This incident is surreal—I'm not even sure if it took place. Reading it was like being inside someone's dream:
"She was more than a rose, a rose that could not quite come into blossom, but remained tense. A little fly dropped on her knee, on her white dress. She watched it, as if it had fallen on a rose. She was not herself."
"She was more than a rose, a rose that could not quite come into blossom, but remained tense. A little fly dropped on her knee, on her white dress. She watched it, as if it had fallen on a rose. She was not herself."
June 25, 2014
Two important components of this short story: Tragedy and Jealousy. Tragedy of an insane kind of jealousy and the emotion of jealousy evolves and becomes an irrational sentiment that turns into malice in its most beastly form.
The theme of the story is that life is never going to offer you a rose garden (happiness), there is always something lurking around the corner that is going to challenge you and you have to overcome.
The theme of the story is that life is never going to offer you a rose garden (happiness), there is always something lurking around the corner that is going to challenge you and you have to overcome.
March 24, 2020
The woman loves the military office in good times but “turned and walked away swiftly” when he is mad. The husband loves the woman’s good appearance and wealth. He suppresses himself in order to keep this relationship.
March 28, 2019
An mystical short story where a woman is briefly reunited with the love of her life who died in the war. The setting is a beautiful rose garden over looking the sea.
August 9, 2022
God knows how many times I have read this.
September 22, 2022
"Ele não existia para ela, exceto como uma fonte de irritação."
Rico e obstinado, A Sombra no Roseiral é um pequeno conto quase místico, que se sobressai no simbolismo e na fluidez de seus acontecimentos. Quase nada sabemos de concreto do tempo anterior, e pouco podemos vislumbrar do tempo subsequente ao conto; no álbum imaginário do casal protagonista, o que vislumbramos é uma fotografia solta, nebulosa e embaçada, que o leitor deve tentar definir e acompanhar seus contornos e formas, claras, mas não unidimensionais.
Segue-se pelo caminho afastando brumas, através de um bonito encadeamento de frases, duma imagem mental bem construída de uma paisagem bucólica e retirante, cercada de símbolos (o mar, a rosa, o espinho, o jardim…), topetando no homem que numa manhã finge ler um jornal: ou seja, um homem incomodado, que coloca o conto em mote. Tudo tem significado; e nada é explicitado. Essa, para mim, é uma das grandes qualidades do Lawrence, ao menos em suas narrativas curtas.
A junção de tudo isso, com o diálogo final, caracteristicamente Lawrenceano, culmina num encerramento surpreendente, não por ser um mirabolante desfecho, mas por ser suscetivelmente humano. Uma frasezinha curta, que desmonta tanto o leitor, quanto as personagens — uma frase que abranda o paladar, mas não mata sede. Leia e você vai entender.
Pinceladas rápidas: fora do que é intrinsecamente qualidade literária-estética, temos a potencialidade de razões do casamento entre ambos. A mulher, sempre incomodada com a presença do marido, rica e bem de vida, se põe socialmente acima dele. É o que nos diz bem por alto o Lawrence; ou seja, qual a razão que teria para casar com um homem que sabia que a faria infeliz? Pressão familiar? Pressão social? Só o Lawrence, ou talvez um estudo minucioso desse conto, aproxime-se de responder. Mas despender muito tempo nisso também é desnecessário, em comparação com o mergulho que as palavras do Lawrence nos proporciona apenas com o fluir literário.
O final pode até ser visto como um catalisador de mudança, uma interpretação possível é de que quando ambos se colocam a falar e a se digladiar verbalmente, consequentemente, expressam tudo aquilo que sentem. E ao contrário do fechamento e desdém particular de um para o outro, — às vezes muito raramente, ditado da minha mãe — quando uma discussão se encerra, algo tenha sido minimamente resolvido.
Rico e obstinado, A Sombra no Roseiral é um pequeno conto quase místico, que se sobressai no simbolismo e na fluidez de seus acontecimentos. Quase nada sabemos de concreto do tempo anterior, e pouco podemos vislumbrar do tempo subsequente ao conto; no álbum imaginário do casal protagonista, o que vislumbramos é uma fotografia solta, nebulosa e embaçada, que o leitor deve tentar definir e acompanhar seus contornos e formas, claras, mas não unidimensionais.
Segue-se pelo caminho afastando brumas, através de um bonito encadeamento de frases, duma imagem mental bem construída de uma paisagem bucólica e retirante, cercada de símbolos (o mar, a rosa, o espinho, o jardim…), topetando no homem que numa manhã finge ler um jornal: ou seja, um homem incomodado, que coloca o conto em mote. Tudo tem significado; e nada é explicitado. Essa, para mim, é uma das grandes qualidades do Lawrence, ao menos em suas narrativas curtas.
A junção de tudo isso, com o diálogo final, caracteristicamente Lawrenceano, culmina num encerramento surpreendente, não por ser um mirabolante desfecho, mas por ser suscetivelmente humano. Uma frasezinha curta, que desmonta tanto o leitor, quanto as personagens — uma frase que abranda o paladar, mas não mata sede. Leia e você vai entender.
Pinceladas rápidas: fora do que é intrinsecamente qualidade literária-estética, temos a potencialidade de razões do casamento entre ambos. A mulher, sempre incomodada com a presença do marido, rica e bem de vida, se põe socialmente acima dele. É o que nos diz bem por alto o Lawrence; ou seja, qual a razão que teria para casar com um homem que sabia que a faria infeliz? Pressão familiar? Pressão social? Só o Lawrence, ou talvez um estudo minucioso desse conto, aproxime-se de responder. Mas despender muito tempo nisso também é desnecessário, em comparação com o mergulho que as palavras do Lawrence nos proporciona apenas com o fluir literário.
O final pode até ser visto como um catalisador de mudança, uma interpretação possível é de que quando ambos se colocam a falar e a se digladiar verbalmente, consequentemente, expressam tudo aquilo que sentem. E ao contrário do fechamento e desdém particular de um para o outro, — às vezes muito raramente, ditado da minha mãe — quando uma discussão se encerra, algo tenha sido minimamente resolvido.
February 27, 2022
A bit difficult to follow but pleasant
part of a bundle
part of a bundle
December 7, 2022
Atmospheric but the writing style was driving me up the wall. It should be illegal to use this many adverbs, let alone use them twice in a row… Ughh…
December 30, 2025
D. H. Lawrence’s The Shadow in the Rose Garden is a short story haunted by premonition, fatalism, and the disturbing sense that love may be powerless against destiny.
Often read as a story of supernatural foreboding, it is equally a romantic narrative—one in which intimacy fails not through betrayal or loss of feeling, but through the inescapability of death. Romance here exists in the shadow of inevitability.
The story revolves around a young couple—spontaneous, affectionate, and emotionally close. Their relationship is warm, playful, and deeply physical in the Lawrencean sense. Love is present, uncomplicated, and mutually assured.
Yet from the opening pages, an atmosphere of unease permeates the narrative, as though something has already been decided beyond the lovers’ control.
This unease crystallizes when the woman encounters a mysterious figure in the rose garden—a shadowy presence that fills her with dread. She becomes convinced that this figure represents death, specifically the impending death of her beloved.
Lawrence never fully clarifies whether the vision is supernatural, psychological, or symbolic. What matters is its emotional certainty.
Romantically, the story’s power lies in the woman’s response. She does not withdraw or despair. Instead, she clings more fiercely to her lover, desperate to preserve their intimacy against the encroaching threat.
Love becomes intensified by the awareness of its fragility. Every moment gains urgency.
The man, by contrast, responds with rational skepticism. He dismisses the vision as imagination, refusing to allow fear to govern his life.
This difference in perception introduces tension—not conflict, but divergence. They love each other fully, yet they inhabit different emotional realities.
When the man later encounters death in the form of a fatal accident, the woman’s premonition is confirmed. The shock of the ending lies not in surprise, but in recognition. The shadow was real—not necessarily as prophecy, but as intuition. Love did not prevent death; it only sharpened its impact.
Lawrence’s treatment of romance here is profoundly tragic. Love is genuine, mutual, and intense—yet utterly ineffective as protection. Unlike romantic traditions that grant love redemptive power, Lawrence insists on its vulnerability. Affection does not alter fate. It merely makes fate hurt more.
Stylistically, the story is charged with symbolism. The rose garden—traditionally a site of romance—becomes a threshold between life and death. Beauty and menace coexist. Lawrence’s prose oscillates between tenderness and menace, mirroring the emotional oscillation of the lovers themselves.
What makes The Shadow in the Rose Garden endure as a romantic story is its refusal to console. It does not suggest that love transcends death, nor that memory redeems loss. Instead, it presents love as something painfully human—intense, transient, and exposed to forces beyond control.
The story leaves the reader with a stark insight: romance does not conquer mortality; it reveals it. To love deeply is to invite vulnerability, not safety.
Lawrence offers no escape from this truth—only its fierce, haunting beauty.
Most recommended.
Often read as a story of supernatural foreboding, it is equally a romantic narrative—one in which intimacy fails not through betrayal or loss of feeling, but through the inescapability of death. Romance here exists in the shadow of inevitability.
The story revolves around a young couple—spontaneous, affectionate, and emotionally close. Their relationship is warm, playful, and deeply physical in the Lawrencean sense. Love is present, uncomplicated, and mutually assured.
Yet from the opening pages, an atmosphere of unease permeates the narrative, as though something has already been decided beyond the lovers’ control.
This unease crystallizes when the woman encounters a mysterious figure in the rose garden—a shadowy presence that fills her with dread. She becomes convinced that this figure represents death, specifically the impending death of her beloved.
Lawrence never fully clarifies whether the vision is supernatural, psychological, or symbolic. What matters is its emotional certainty.
Romantically, the story’s power lies in the woman’s response. She does not withdraw or despair. Instead, she clings more fiercely to her lover, desperate to preserve their intimacy against the encroaching threat.
Love becomes intensified by the awareness of its fragility. Every moment gains urgency.
The man, by contrast, responds with rational skepticism. He dismisses the vision as imagination, refusing to allow fear to govern his life.
This difference in perception introduces tension—not conflict, but divergence. They love each other fully, yet they inhabit different emotional realities.
When the man later encounters death in the form of a fatal accident, the woman’s premonition is confirmed. The shock of the ending lies not in surprise, but in recognition. The shadow was real—not necessarily as prophecy, but as intuition. Love did not prevent death; it only sharpened its impact.
Lawrence’s treatment of romance here is profoundly tragic. Love is genuine, mutual, and intense—yet utterly ineffective as protection. Unlike romantic traditions that grant love redemptive power, Lawrence insists on its vulnerability. Affection does not alter fate. It merely makes fate hurt more.
Stylistically, the story is charged with symbolism. The rose garden—traditionally a site of romance—becomes a threshold between life and death. Beauty and menace coexist. Lawrence’s prose oscillates between tenderness and menace, mirroring the emotional oscillation of the lovers themselves.
What makes The Shadow in the Rose Garden endure as a romantic story is its refusal to console. It does not suggest that love transcends death, nor that memory redeems loss. Instead, it presents love as something painfully human—intense, transient, and exposed to forces beyond control.
The story leaves the reader with a stark insight: romance does not conquer mortality; it reveals it. To love deeply is to invite vulnerability, not safety.
Lawrence offers no escape from this truth—only its fierce, haunting beauty.
Most recommended.
Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews