In the first chapter of Between Men, Sedgwick reevaluates the familiar idea of erotic triangles. The basic idea behind such triangles involves two rivals (usually male) in pursuit of the third member. The "eroticism" comes into play because of a study Sedgwick refers to by Rene Girard, in which he points out "that the bonds of ‘rivalry’ and ‘love,’ differently as they are experienced, are in many cases equally powerful and in many senses equivalent" (21). Naturally, Sedgwick also includes some of Freud’s viewpoints concerning the Oedipal triangle. Both studies present a dichotomy between desire and violence as their focus. The bond between rivals is seen to be as strong in a struggle for power as in the quest for the female. Hence, the relationships are seen in either sexual (towards the woman) or nonsexual (towards the rival) terms. What Sedgwick reconsiders then, is the symmetry of such a schema. Whereas this aforementioned model, with its sharp barriers, portrays the triangle as a symmetrical relationship, Sedgwick argues that it is actually the opposite. To strengthen her point, she points to a study by Levi-Strauss to conclude that the "normative man uses a woman as a ‘conduit of a relationship’ in which the true partner is a man" (26). Finally, Sedgwick solidifies her introduction by quoting Luce Irigaray: "Male homosexuality is the law that regulates the sociocultural order. Heterosexuality amounts to the assignment of roles in the economy." Sedgwick quickly points out that the use of "homosexuality" here does not represent sex between men but a means of establishing the power in society, obviously in a patriarchal sense. Therefore, women become property with which to fill in the sexual (as in the act) gap. "Homosexuality" as it is known today then gains a status of taboo which Sedgwick compares to incest (26). And to complete the triangular relationship, women in turn control the continuum within which the parameters of intimacy between men are explored. In other words, the actual structure of gender and class within a society, especially including the role of women and the view of femininity, determines the sensitivity of what is considered homosexuality.

Before examining that structure within LawrenceÂ’s society, I turn to the key passages within the novel which demonstrates the relationship between Rupert and Gerald. In terms of this relationship, the first major shift appears in the chapter fittingly entitled "Man to Man." However, an examination of GeraldÂ’s behavior seems appropriate since he will offer more resistance or hesitation in the affair. Chapter VII opens on the morning after Gerald sleeps with Pussum in HallidayÂ’s apartment. Gerald awakes and upon looking at his companion feel an "unsatisfied flame of passion" (77). Rather than wake her up to make love again, he wanders out into the sitting-room and finds Halliday and Maxim stark naked. Though Lawrence dodges any moments of clear homo-eroticism, repetitively justifying their nudity through the desire for simplicity and sensuality, the sexual implications of the scene are inevitable. However, this aspect does not carry as much weight as the homosocial idea behind their actions. The sitting-room serves as a shelter for the men, where they can lose their worries along with their clothes. The apartment closes its door to the inhibitions imposed by society, and the men can reduce themselves to their "true" state. For even Gerald thinks of clothes as an illusion, as Lawrence explains to the reader before the character strips as well (79). The whole scene seems to take place from GeraldÂ’s perspective. He begins it by entering upon the naked men and ends it by leaving naked, his initial surprise and inhibition shed by the desire to join the men. As the chapter ends, Lawrence highlights the erotic triangle which includes Halliday and Gerald as the visit ends in confrontation and near violence, adding some possible psychological justification to the previous events.

Unlike the previously mentioned chapters, "Man to Man" constantly appears in studies regarding the nature of Gerald and RupertÂ’s relationship. The scene takes a dramatic turn which begins when Gerald "looked at Birkin with penetrating eyes" (206). Craft would point out LawrenceÂ’s choice of an adjective as indicative of GeraldÂ’s desire for physical intimacy through sodomy. However, this penetration serves more clearly as a transition into the each characterÂ’s respective feelings toward the other. Gerald uncharacteristically reveals insecurity and mistrust, as if he is afraid to commit himself to a deep relationship. "He knew Birkin could do without him -- could forget and not suffer," Lawrence writes (206). This describes the way Gerald treats his female lovers quite comfortably; but in this reversal, he becomes the victim and shows hesitation to be treated the same way. Rupert, on the other hand, reflects on how to strengthen their bond and the "problem of love and eternal conjunction between two men" (206). He consciously admits his love and his consequent denial of it. His resolution then evolves from the idea of Blutbruderschaft, a union of blood. From the homosexual viewpoint and CraftÂ’s argument, this desire for a mingling of blood again echoes sodomy and its consequent marriage of bodily fluids -- both blood and semen. For Spilka, the invocation of German knights implies the strengthening of brotherhood through ritualistic means. For both critics, the consummation or realization occurs later in "Gladiatorial." The apparent conflict between these ideas, which each author supports convincingly, can be resolved through SedgwickÂ’s idea of homosociality. Once again, each characterÂ’s inhibition and hesitation prevents the fulfillment of their desires. Rupert brings up the idea of the blood but quickly dismisses the physical aspect of it: "No wounds, that is obsolete.--But we ought to swear to love each other, you and I, implicitly and perfectly, finally, without any possibility of going back on it" (207). Gerald, despite the "luminous pleasure" in his face, can only respond with reservation, touching Rupert, "as if withheld and afraid." He wants to "leave it till I understand it better." Because of societyÂ’s crack in the continuum between companionship and homosexuality, Gerald cannot bring himself to make the full commitment. Perhaps he fears his own desires or maybe his aforementioned insecurity prevents him. At the same time, Rupert cannot at this point define what he wants. His uncertainty is as much to blame as GeraldÂ’s hesitance for the lack of commitment which brings their eventual and tragic separation.

Before the actual wrestling occurs in "Gladiatorial," both men refuse a drink. Stripped naked and about to engage in physical contact, the idea of something which would further reduce their inhibition scares them. Once again, nudity unites them in a homosocial bond, but here the eroticism is inescapable:

Furthermore, Hammond brings up some key points in his interpretation which differ from the normal focus upon the action itself. Interestingly, he describes the specific site of the wrestling, the library, as the "homosocial space of the English gentry" (194). In his study of this chapter, this is merely one of many observations; however, for my argument, his use of the word "homosocial" in relation to the environment merits further exploration. While it seems unlikely that Lawrence would place a scene of physical consummation (if that is the case) in the bedroom itself, why does the library serve as the appropriate scene? Hammond also points out the privacy and safety of the room. Rupert does lock the door, ensuring that the moment will remain their own. However, the presence of books implies another level of the interaction, the interpretation of the reader. What will take place will not by any means be literal but rather literary, with Lawrence hoping the reader can look beyond stereotypes and find something new which surpasses the expected. While Lawrence clearly uses words that would be compatible in a sexual scenario, they do not bind the situation to such a description, allowing for that interpretation but challenging the reader to find others. Apart from this aspect of the library, the setting also implies a place of discussion among men rather than passion. One could imagine Rupert and Gerald sitting by the fire and discussing politics or literature. When they decide to wrestle naked, this too happens through discussion not passion. As they begin to dress afterwards and reflect upon the matter, they have no explanation for what has occurred:
 

Despite the intensity of the scene, the relationship is unfinished, still uncertain and in contrast to the idea of consummation. And while the diction does have sexual connotations, consider their appropriateness in the act described by Lawrence in the opening quote of this paper. Like the "circuit of polarized passion," they penetrate with intelligence and energy striving to become one great work.

In order to fully understand the implications of such an act, it is necessary to step back and ground the argument in LawrenceÂ’s feelings about homosexuality itself, turning again to Fantasia of the Unconscious as a starting point. Here, he emphasizes the difference between men and women: "Every single living cell is either male or female, and will remian either male or female as long as life lasts. And every single cell in every male child is male, and every cell in every female child is female. The talk about a third sex, or about the indeterminate sex, is just to pervert the issue" (131). Hence, the relationship between Gerald and Rupert should not be characterized as homosexual, as if their true intimate desire lies in the physical consummation of their relationship. Lawrence later goes into detail about the act of sex itself, writing: "The psychoanalysts, driving us back to the sexual consummation always, do us infinite damage. We have to break away, back to the great unison of manhood in some passionate purpose. Now this is not like sex" (152). In this writing, he makes the effort to distinguish this higher "purpose," only attainable among men, and the act of sex. They differ greatly in meaning, partners, and value. His primitive call of returning to a homosocial setting does not leave room for sex itself; yet it does allow for passion, which supports RupertÂ’s desire.

Furthermore, Molly Martin notes in her paper an April 1915 letter to David Garnett, in which Lawrence rebukes homosexuality: 

Regardless of the details of the relationship, the timing plays a more important role in understanding this study. Hammond finds evidence in Lawrence’s letters of a "tract on homosexuality called Goats and Compasses which Lawrence was writing early in 1916, and which was later destroyed" (186). Likewise, this time frame finds Lawrence in the midst of an eerily "familiar" friendship with John Middleton Murry, one in which a blood pact was even discussed at one point. Meyers writes that Lawrence turned to Murry as an escape from the sexual struggles he experienced with Frieda, problems which may have been as serious as impotence (141). Hammond backs this idea up with a quote from Frieda’s Memoirs and Correspondence: "he wanted so desperately for you to understand him. I think the homosexuality in him was a short phase out of misery -- I fought him and won -- and that he wanted a deeper thing from you" (188). Throughout her letters, Frieda contends that she is Ursula; so it is quite possible that Lawrence’s friendship with Murry paralleled or inspired Rupert and Gerald. Both Hammond and Meyers bring up multiple other instances of possible homosexual experiences or relationships in Lawrence’s life, but no conclusive evidence is ever presented. Whether true or not, Lawrence’s interest in the subject both in the literary field and within his life is clear. The concentration of such interest around 1916 and the writing of Women in Love implies an open-mindedness regarding the subject and also merits the basis of this study. While Frieda’s letters bring up the possibility of Lawrence’s homosexual tendencies, she dismisses the idea in most cases. However, in one letter about the novel itself, she does reveal the struggle which he faced: 

In his "Prologue" to Women in Love, which Lawrence does not include in the final draft of the novel, he spends the majority of the chapter describing RupertÂ’s love and desire for men. He does so here in a much more direct and comprehensive manner than anywhere else throughout the book. Take the following passage for example:

However, the "Prologue" undoubtedly gives Rupert a more direct and palpable passion for men that leans toward physical desire. This simple fact combined with Lawrence’s decision to delete this chapter makes for a controversial study. On one side of the spectrum, some supporters of the homosexuality theory argue that Lawrence was forced to remove this section in order to avoid censorship. This involves an understanding of society’s view of homosexuality as well as Lawrence’s previous struggles with censors (the latter is well known and the former I will return to later). Others argue that the removal of the "Prologue" indicates Lawrence’s desire to change Birkin’s character, either in terms of focus or for literary value. Either way, it is essential to understand how the Rupert character differs in the finished novel as opposed to the author’s introduction of him in the "Prologue." One aspect which George Donaldson explores in his article " ‘Men in Love’?" concerns the personal investment instilled in Birkin in the chapter. According to Donaldson, the "Prologue" makes the need for homosociality seem like a personal plight rather than a profound truth (49). In turning to the text itself, Birkin struggles to cope with feelings and emotions which he feels he should resist: "He asked himself often, when he grew older, and more unearthly, when he was twenty-eight and twenty-nine years old, would he ever be appeased, would he ever cease to desire these two sorts of men...For he would never acquiesce to it. He could never acquiesce to his own feelings, to his own passion" (514). The use of the personal pronouns especially emphasize his struggle; and by the end of the chapter, Lawrence has depicted a man in conflict with his own sexuality, unable to overcome his homosexual desires long enough to love a woman and unwilling to accept his true impulses. In contrast, Rupert urges Gerald to "admit the unadmitted love of man for man" and does not even realize his own need until "Man for Man." Here, the title itself implies something more than a personal struggle. And it is here, not from the very beginning, that Rupert lays in his bed and contemplates his desire for a homosocial relationship: "Suddenly he saw himself confronted with another problem -- the problem of love and eternal conjunction between two men. Of course this was necessary -- it had been a necessity inside himself all his life -- to love a man purely and fully. Of course he had been loving Gerald all along, and all along denying it" (206). The Rupert of the "Prologue" is a sexually repressed individual. Gerald Crich might be the "one towards whom Birkin felt most strongly that immediate, roused attraction," but he is not really that different than "any man, a policeman who suddenly looked up at him...or a soldier who sat next to him in a railway carriage" (513). Hence, the finished Gerald becomes a means of revealing this desire rather than a tool upon which to explore undeniable homosexual impulses. As Donaldson puts it, "the merely ‘psychological’ truth of the Prologue seems to have been superseded rather than suppressed, the personal problem has been supplanted by something else" (49). Furthermore, only in his final conversation with Ursula does Birkin finally give direct answers to questions of his desire. In contrast to the uncertainty he portrays throughout the novel when he and Gerald discuss their relationship, Birkin here confesses his need in simple terms. Donaldson points out that "Birkin’s need for more than a single intimacy -- for more than Ursula -- is a need, not for other people, but for another intimacy -- for Gerald" (48). This realization comes at a tragic point but clearly differs from the Birkin portrayed in the Prologue, who seems to desire any and all men. Hence, through the deletion of the Prologue, Lawrence not only creates a different character in Birkin but elevates the idea of homosociality from a personal problem to a potential "truth." Though I would not go so far as to claim that it would be the "truth" of the entire novel, it is an idea that Birkin clearly stands by at the end, down to his final words.

In his essay, Meyers somewhat concurs with this idea before using it to support his theory of homosexuality. First, he directly connects Hocking and a character who appears briefly in the Prologue, clearly the "strange, Cornish type of man, with dark eyes like holes in his head, or like the eyes of a rat, and with dark, fine, rather stiff hair, and full, heavy softly-strong limbs" (Lawrence 515). Apart from the possible association with Hocking, the imagery of the rat foreshadows (if a deleted passage could do that) the descriptions assigned to the homosexual Loerke. Meyers brings up this point to argue that the feelings described in the Prologue are those experienced by Lawrence. Where his argument falls in line with DonaldsonÂ’s concerns the discovery of what he labels "BirkinÂ’s repressed homosexual desires" (144). Instead of the immediate revelation in the "Prologue," Lawrence allows for a more covert and defensive discovery of the love Rupert feels for Gerald. According to Meyers, Birkin realizes his love for Gerald after his confession that he hates heterosexual sex, thereby providing a homosexual motivation behind his love and supporting MeyersÂ’ theory. However, Graham Holderness reads the "Prologue" in a way which refutes this idea while offering up a similar reason for the its deletion. In his book, Holderness argues that the overt descriptions of BirkinÂ’s passions present him as having a problem because they get in the way of marriage (75). Hence, in the Prologue, the BirkinÂ’s desire appear as an alternative to heterosexual love rather than as a complement. Yet it is the latter which Birkin supports in his final words to Ursula: "Having you, I can live my life without anybody else, any other sheer intimacy. But to make it complete, really happy, I wanted eternal union with another man, too: another kind of love" (481). While acknowledging the difference in RupertÂ’s character, Holderness sees this not as a more effective means of revealing homosexuality but as LawrenceÂ’s attempt to create "another kind of love," a homosocial bond.

On the other hand, Craft would argue that LawrenceÂ’s true intentions were grounded in the "Prologue," and the novel reveals the authorÂ’s use of substitution to cloak the homosexual theme. According to this theory, Lawrence resorts to a rhetorical narrative technique of gender inversion with the following, simple dynamics: "where man was, there woman shall be," right down to the title "which silently ingest, all the better to occlude, the open secret of the novelÂ’s secret subject: men in love"(166). This proposal of substitution becomes even more controversial when used in respect to sex, specifically sodomy. However, since this involves a detailed analysis of specific passages, I will first deal with the CraftÂ’s first aspect of the substitution theory. If women serve merely as "stand-ins" for male relationships, then homosexuality becomes not only the focus of the book but an incredibly dominant theme. This simplifies the novel to a homosexual allegory, in which all the language serves as code for discovering repressed sexual feelings. However, LawrenceÂ’s feelings regarding sexual relations have already been noted in the selections for Fantasia of the Unconscious. Furthermore, this denies the very existence of the heterosexual relationships which remain incomplete, thereby necessitating male love as a complement. As Spilka points out, Gerald and GudrunÂ’s relationship serves as a contrast to the star-equilibrium seeking Rupert and Ursula, a dynamic which Lawrence explores through the literary technique of bouncing back and forth between the couples.

Ross though, in his papers "Homoerotic Feeling in Women in Love," shoots down the idea of substitution, especially in its relevance to the deletion of the "Prologue." Rather than negatively describing Lawrence’s narrative as one that disguises relationships and sexuality (as per substitution), Ross proposes that the author actually creates meaning instead. Rather than viewing the Prologue as a last minute removal from a finished novel, Ross points out the evolution of the story through the examination of other, uncompleted drafts. He feels the differences throughout the Lawrence’s creative process illustrate that "while considering the friendship of Gerald and Birkin, Lawrence grasped the ideal of male comradeship as a possible though difficult alternative to the deathliness of modern sex relations, an ‘additional’ and complementary relationship to the new type of ‘mystic’ marriage that Birkin and Ursula strive to realize" (169). The changes he refers to are all minor, such as removing a comparison of Gerald and Rupert to classic homosexual friendships, serving to shift the desire to an unconscious level in contrast to the cognizance described in the "Prologue." In this way, Ross sees the novel as the development of ideas and characters rather than an author determining the best way to plant a theme into a novel. Homoerotic feelings are apparent and are discussed; however, consummation cannot possibly occur because it is improbable for Gerald’s character (180). His view takes into account the unfinished versions of Women in Love but keeps the focus on the final product.

Not to be forgotten, however, are the historical circumstances of Lawrence’s writings. As part of the argument for substitution, the disguising occurs in order to avoid censorship and chastisement by society. To fill in this gap briefly, I turn once again to Eve Sedgwick. In her article "The Beast in the Closet: James and the Writing of Homosexual Panic," Sedgwick describes that familiar ambivalence Lawrence had for homosexuality itself. She quotes two different letters in which Lawrence first praises and then censures the homosexually charged work of James M. Barrie within the time span of 1910 to 1924. As reasons for this change, she first cites the "historical and intellectual context in within which British literature could be read" (300). Explicit homosexuality within a novel was definitely grounds for censorship, and Lawrence’s editor even notes that he made some minor changes fearing that outcome. Secondly, Sedgwick introduces the idea of male homosexual panic as a post-Romantic phenomenon. This homophobic ambiance ties in with the very idea of homosociality. Homosexuality’s "definition in relation to the relation to the rest of the male homosocial spectrum has been an exceedingly potent and embattled locus of power over the entire range of male bonds, and perhaps specifically over those that define themselves, not as homosexual, but as against the homosexual"(303). This observation serves two purposes in this study. First, it helps justify Lawrence’s desire for a true male friendship within a society that had strict limits upon male intimacy. Within this void, he felt incomplete; and the resulting heterosexual relationships fall short in Women in Love. On the other hand, this panic could justify Lawrence’s desire to cloak actual homosexual desire. However, I argue that this point cannot be valid; for in the wake of such homophobia, even what Lawrence includes in his novel could be perceived as overtly homosexual. Consider, for example, an early review quoted in Donaldson’s article: 

Finally, in moving towards an exploration of possible sodomy, I turn now to the heterosexual relationships in the novel. In the chapter entitled "In the Train," Birkin and Gerald discuss modern sex relations. "It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman -- sort of the ultimate marriage -- and there isnÂ’t anything else," observes Rupert (58). The choices are simple -- heterosexual marriage or despair and death. As Birkin later discovers, this union is not enough, but it is essential. Gerald denies the possibility that he can find this union with a woman. Likewise, he and Birkin never take the steps to define their relationship. Birkin is partly to blame for his uncertainty; yet one must doubt that Gerald could ever find an eternal union, a mystical marriage comparable to that of Rupert and Birkin. Hence, his fate lies in destruction. Lacking a passionate purpose in life, as he reveals to Rupert at the beginning of "Gladiatorial," he chooses heterosexual love as the only alternative to doom; yet his relationship with Gudrun from the very beginning is full of violence and death. Even before "Rabbit," the blood and sadism which will drive them together becomes clear in "Coal-Dust." As Gerald violently digs his spurs into the mare at the railroad track, Gudrun apparently reaches orgasm at the sight, with a "dizziness which seemed to penetrate her heart" (111).

As for Rupert and Ursula, I wish to focus on "Excurse," the chapter of the supposed sodomy. To deny its existence would be ignorant; however, to read it just literally would be insulting to Lawrence. The imagery he includes and the descriptions of physical actions clearly lead to the anus. It begins with Ursula unconsciously tracing her fingers along the back of RupertÂ’s thighs, "following some mysterious life-flow there" (313). Lawrence then describes it as "the darkest, deepest, strangest life-source of the human body, at the back and base of the loins" (314). And finally, Ursula "thought there was no source deeper than the phallic source. And now behold...from the strange marvellous flanks and thighs, deeper than the phallic source, came the floods of ineffable darkness and ineffable riches" (314). Though Lawrence does mention other acts of intimacy in which Rupert is on top of Ursula, the descriptions of anal caressing seem restricted to what Ursula does to him. What he presents is digital sodomy, and the point of emphasis is that the power of the sexual intimacy does not have to be grounded in the phallic source. So if this is not a substitution of RupertÂ’s desires for Gerald, what can it be? Like the wrestling, it is an act which supersedes sex, which elevates their relationship to a level of mysticism. Ursula claims to have found the Sons of God from the beginning. The anus here serves as the origin of life, thereby surpassing the penis. Because she can penetrate this source rather than bowing to the phallic power, she moves toward the star-equilibrium, the mystic marriage, which Rupert desires. At the same time, they can still experience the pleasure of heterosexual sex without the inhibitions of dark desires. As for the homosexual implications of anal pleasure, this scene if anything provides a reverse substitution from what critics would argue. Craft, for example, would argue that Ursula merely fills in for Gerald in exploring the anus. However, the capacity of this "dark" intimacy within the heterosexual relationship robs the homosexual relationship of the act. Ursula can provide Rupert with complete sexual pleasure, from his penis to the cavity of his origins, the source of life.

In conclusion, Lawrence often suffers a similar fate as Rupert when his life is interpreted. Bristow’s Effeminate England points out one writer’s biting views in 1955: "Lawrence’s ‘secret’ -- if one can call it that -- was, I suppose, that he was profoundly homosexual; but his lonely, puritanic, lower middle-class upbringing prevented him from coming to terms with his own homosexuality...his crypto’queerness’ seems to me to be the key to his complex and unhappy personality" (154). However, the chances that the answer can be that simple seem slim; and the very idea that Lawrence could approach male relationships with such bravery without revealing his true passions and desires is ridiculous. After all, Lawrence never denies wanting that contact with fellow man, a homosocial bond with its own sexual equivalent based on the upper poles -- a love distinct from heterosexual or homosexual but clearly beyond the line drawn by a society in a panic of homophobia.

Craft, Christopher. Another Kind of Love: Male Homosexual Desire in English Discourse, 1850-1920. Berkeley:

D.H. Lawrence: Centenary Essays. Ed. Mara Kalnins. Bristol: Bristol Classical Press, 1986.

Hammond, Paul. Love Between Men in English Literature. New York: St. MartinÂ’s Press, 1996.

Holderness, Graham. Women in Love. Philadelphia: Open University Press, 1986.

Lawrence, D.H. Fantasia of the Unconscious. New York: Thomas Seltzer, Inc., 1930.

Lawrence, D.H. Women in Love. England: Penguin Books, 1995.

Lawrence, Frieda. The Memoirs and Correspondence. Ed. E.W. Tedlock, Jr. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1964.

Martin, Molly. "Men Complete." From English 272D (Fall 1998).

Meyers, Jeffrey. Homosexuality and Literature, 1890-1930. London: Athlone Press, 1977.

Ross, Charles L. "Homoerotic Feeling in Women in Love: Lawrence’s ‘struggle for verbal consciousness’ in the

Sedgwick, Eve Kosofsky. "The Beast in the Closet: James and the Writing of Homosexual Panic." Homosexual Themes

Jersey: Prentice-Hall, 1969.

Worthen, John. D.H. Lawrence. London: Edward Arnold, 1991.