November 24, 2014
I'm on my first day of a week-long break from work. I spent my time admirably: I got up around eight, consumed a whole batch of cinnamon rolls, took a nap, and watched Netflix. As an afterthought, I did go to the gym, and I got Indian food. And of course, read.
I picked up this book, and a few others, recently. It's been a while since I bought any books, but I may be motivated to now that I've made it very very clear to my father that I want a bookshelf for Christmas. The little shelves that I've had since childhood don't fit all my novels, let alone my professional research materials. Plus, I've asked my sister to get me an Amazon gift card for more ebooks...she called me a nerd but I think she's glad that I'm so easy to buy for.
Virginia Woolf...I've always found her interesting, but never knew much about her. Nicole Kidman famously wore an ugly fake nose to play her, and won an Oscar for it. Maeby Fünke wore the nose to be Shirley Woolfbeak (haha, get it?). I know she killed herself by stuffing rocks into her pockets and walking into a body of water to drown, but otherwise I don't know a whole lot about her. I don't think I'm afraid of her (haha, I got jokes); she was definitely a unique voice.
Mrs. Dalloway was published by Woolf and her husband's own company, Hogarth. I'm certain that I have ordered and used academic texts from this very same company, so it's obviously still active today. The book (short, shy of 200 pages) is a day in London. The plot is centered around Clarissa Dalloway, a middle-aged society woman who is giving a party that evening. The narrative of the story is the thoughts and observations of various characters, especially Mrs. Dalloway; her ex Peter Walsh (who happens to show up in London that day, having been in India for years); and others connected to Clarissa in various ways. Because the story switches perspectives frequently (and abruptly at times), and because the conscious thoughts of the characters mingle with their observations and actions and dialogue, reading this book requires attention, you could say. And its themes aren't exactly clear; I could definitely see this book being a topic of extensive study and discussion.
One clear theme of this book is regret. Depression, dissatisfaction perhaps, are others. I found myself comparing Clarissa with Septimus, even before Clarissa heard of the young man's suicide through their one connection, Lord William, who had prescribed him confined bed rest that very morning and had shared the news of his sudden, gruesome suicide (falling to his death out of a window and onto an iron fence; I think one of the sisters in Jeffrey Eugenides's The Virgin Suicides goes that way). I compared them before Clarissa compared herself to him, so obviously it was one that Woolf wanted readers to make. And here's what I found myself wondering:
At first I was like, Septimus's issues were clearly more serious. He was very very mentally ill, suffering from PTSD after World War I. This was, of course, during a time when there was little real understanding about mental illness, about the ways that trauma affects the human brain. His long-suffering wife Rezia, whom he met after the war in Italy, wants to find a quick fix, and is wary of well-meaning Lord William but trusting of the ignorant, pompous doctor. She is definitely in denial about the situation, though she is a sympathetic character.
Indeed almost everyone is sympathetic, because you get their perspective for at least some of the story. This book doesn't really have a plot, per se, but is rather a look at human life: emotions, memories, death. And that made me think, maybe I don't have a right to rank people's problems, saying that Septimus had more of a right to fall apart that Clarissa, who seems to be just holding herself together. Everybody has their shit. Even Miss Kilman, in many ways a despicable character, has a perspective. She blames her problems on other people and uses religion as a way to feel above people who intimidate her, but she has some convictions. She had a tough life, but still stood up for her principles, even when it meant losing a job. She seems like an awful person, but Clarissa seems to connect with her despair.
This book is sometimes referred to as "art," and I'd agree with that. It's definitely not a breeze-through sort of book, but rather a tapestry of a day in the life. Mrs. Dalloway, dealing with her declining health and a growing dissatisfaction in her lifestyle and a daughter growing apart from her, is going through some stuff, just as everybody is. And maybe something to keep in mind is that everyone has regrets and everyone wants something, though many people don't know what that is. And we are all connected, even in the loosest sense of the word.
I would like to learn more about Virginia Woolf. Maybe I should watch that one movie? She wrote several other novels, and I certainly want to check out more of her work. She was definitely unconventional, and while I used to shy away from such texts, I'm seeing more how unique writing styles can present essential perspectives, allowing readers to know characters in different, important ways.
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