In The Los Angeles Review of Books, I reviewed the new collection of D.H. Lawrence’s essays from NYRB Classics. It’s just another book review, and it’s out at an inauspicious time. Few people are reading book reviews when they could be staring at the doomsday scroll, stoking their anxiety about the pandemic, and sharing disinformation with each other. But I want to note the publication here, because from my perspective it marks a definite advance in my skill with a certain kind of prose and the elements of a certain kind of journalism. The advance may not be visible to others, but I can see it, and so I’m very pleased to have the piece out in the world.