That Lady Chatterley was a bit of a goer, I've discovered.
Browsing in the library yesterday I came upon D.H. Lawrence's novel and picked it up. I was eight when Penguin Books was prosecuted for publishing Lady Chatterley's Lover, a little young - in those days certainly - to have an understanding of indecency or the importance of the case. I'm sure it must have been circulated, certainly by the time I got to grammar school, under wraps by teenage girls keen to find out what all the fuss was about but it passed me by. I was an innocent in those days.
So I thought maybe it was time to read it for myself. I flicked it open to assess the readability: I read last thing at night so can't cope with anything too literary. By some coincidence it fell open at a 'dirty' bit complete with 'penis' and much grasping of buttocks - and it wasn't even with the gamekeeper. I closed it quickly; the library isn't the place to have a hot flush.
"The key factor in the decision to prosecute was that Penguin proposed to sell the book for 3/6; in other words, to put it within easy reach of women and the working classes. This, the DPP's files reveal, was what the upper-middle-class male lawyers and politicians of the time refused to tolerate."
(From The Guardian)
And now it's on a library bookshelf without even a warning that it may cause middle-aged women to blush furiously.
I'm only on chapter four so I'll let you know how things progress ...
P.S. Please pretend this was written yesterday otherwise my intention to write each day in November (for NanoWriMo) will have fallen at the first garden shed.