An extraordinary achievement. Ellis's ability to reconstruct this last phase of Lawrence' life in such detail, while always carrying his scholarship lightly, must be admired. Ellis does not go in for much speculation - partly because of the relative abundance of first-hand evidence, which he deftly weighs up. The reader is not burdened with biographical agonising.
The Lawrence of this phase comes across as a sadly isolated, marginalised figure - despite his considerable socialising. The nature of his sometimes violent relationship with Frieda is well elucidated by Ellis, through an accumulation of episodes, statements and writings, rather than by the imposition of one declarative, biographical view. Ellis, one feels, does not like Frieda that much, yet is not prejudiced. Middleton Murray is possibly a different case, but he had largely gone out of Lawrence's life by now.
Ellis seems somewhat embarrassed by Lawrence's racism and his fascistic views on power and leadership; though he does not skirt around them, the opportunity to relate them to the political and social malaise of the age is foregone. Ellis sees Lawrence quickly moving on from the "political" views of The Plumed Serpent to the "personal" emphasis of Lady Chatterley's Lover, and seems glad of it.
Ellis is good on Lawrence's painting, journalism and poetry: he quotes with great dexterity and illuminates much that is wonderful. In so doing, he rescues Lawrence's last years from the popular idea of diminished powers and rat-baggery. One would like more on the effect Lawrence had on ideas and people - in this telling, one can but share Lawrence's own feeling his efforts to affect change were largely thwarted. Ellis respects the limitations of biography (he writes, "there is a danger of pushing interpretation farther than is necessary for common understanding, and of tipping over into apologia"). They are not limits such as to prevent him producing a fine book.