content: Although one hesitates to give any book by D. H. Lawrence two stars, in this case I must. The Plumed Serpent is no Son's and Lovers. This late Lawrence book is filled with long-winded, pretentious and repetitive passages of ersatz Aztec religious claptrap and equally ill-conceived mysticism about the savage Mexican Indian as a race. Couple these with a sort of proto-fascism, and one has a pretty nasty book. Lawrence's take on gender relations in this world of neo-Aztec revival is equally unattractive. At the same time, there are the descriptive passages of great lyric beauty that are pure Lawrence and some earnest wrestling with questions of individualism versus the commonality of humankind. I didn't like the book, but I'm glad I read it.