In the ancient world, a man awakens in darkness, grossly wounded. He strips away his shroud and emerges from the tomb reluctantly, back into life. In the poor countryside he encounters the repellent assertiveness of Spring: a crowing rooster, "the green flame tongues out of the extremes of the fig tree." Resurrection is no picnic. The protagonist is not named but we all know who he is. Eventually he is nursed to health and physical love by a priestess of Osiris, who mistakes him for the mutilated Egyptian deity, as opposed to the risen Christian one.
As short as this book is, it was originally shorter still. When first published in 1928 it was as a story in New York's Forum Magazine called "The Escaped Cock." There was no priestess. At the end Christ repudiated the absurd mission that had got him killed, and freed the titular rooster:
"And he left his bird there and went on deeper into the phenomenal world, which is a vast complexity of wonders. And he asked himself a last question: 'From what, and to what, could this infinite whirl be saved?'"
After that Lawrence expanded and illustrated the tale with two of his own watercolors. In Paris the Crosbys' Black Sun Press bought out an elegant, limited paperback of the longer story, still called The Escaped Cock. This little masterpiece, a resigned, unblinking poetic myth, is the last work of extended fiction Lawrence saw published before his own death from tuberculosis in 1930. Posthumously it became The Man Who Died.
~Roger