Virginia Woolf is a surprisingly popular author considering how difficult her books are to read. She is lauded for her "stream of consciousness" style, and of course she was in at the beginning of that trend and so has historical importance. But just how meaningful is that technique now? What do her books have to say that we still in the 21st century want to hear?
I'm afraid my answer is, not much, though one does come away from To the Lighthouse with a warm picture of life in the Ramsay household summer house in the Isle of Skye in Scotland. Actually, when they begin building fortifications on the beach and the sound of the guns in France can be heard from the house during World War I, you realize the author has lost her focus a bit and is describing, as she has been doing all along, the house in Cornwall where the Stephen family summered when Virginia was a girl. But wherever the house is located it is really the heart of the beautiful Mrs Ramsay, who makes the house come alive with her family and the artists and academics invited to visit there.
Two extended scenes demonstrate what is best about the novel. The first is a dinner party in which Mrs Ramsay's thoughts wander about as she thinks about not having the money to repair the greenhouse, worries about her husband being annoyed because he isn't accorded the attention his vanity requires, watches for a young couple to come back from the beach where she has sent them hoping the young man will propose, considers the feelings of an old man who is a frequent guest and who annoys her husband by asking for a second bowl of soup. It's a beautiful scene which takes place in 1910, before electricity has arrived on the island, and at a time when people still dressed for dinner. The party is reflected in the windows of the room and the description of the entire affair is beautifully done. Difficult to read but worth the work.
The second passage, written in a more straightforward style, is seen partly through the eyes of an old woman who is paid by the family to clean the house during the winter. We learn in a startling sentence that Mrs Ramsay has died. The family does not return to the house for many years. Despite the work of the cleaning woman the house deteriorates, plaster falls, rats inhabit the attic, books molder, swallows nest in the drawing room, and the garden, which Mrs Ramsay loved, goes to ruin with carnations among the cabbages and poppies in with the roses. The description of the deterioration is stunning.
And the lighthouse? The book begins with the child, James, wanted to sail to the lighthouse the next day but his father tells him it will not be possible because of the weather. Indeed, the visit is not made at that time. But when the family returns to the house after an absence of 10 years, two of the children go to the lighthouse with their father and they connect with him, perhaps for the first time, as he praises his son's sailing skill.
The only character besides Mrs Ramsay that I was sympathetic with and really understood was Lily Briscoe, a painter, who is insecure about her work in 1910 because she is criticized by a fellow visitor because her work is not in the acceptable style. And besides, he says, women can't paint or write.
Ten years later Lily completes a painting she had begun on the previous visit 10 years earlier just as the family sailing expedition reaches the lighthouse. What does that signify? I haven't a clue. But I was gratified that Lily was now able to paint as she liked without concerning herself with what other people would think about her work.
Note, I began re-reading this book back in October as it was the November choice for the 22nd Ave Book Club. I didn't get around to finishing it until mid-January. As I've implied, it's not a page-turner.
2012 No 13
Oh Mary I have tried and tried Virginia Woolf and find her unutterably dreary. In fact I find the whole Bloomsbury Lit scene a turn off. When I say this sometimes at a bookish gathering I am looked at as if I had just admitted to being a serial killer.....
Posted by: Elaine Simpson-Long | Tuesday, January 24, 2012 at 12:57 AM
Oh, Elaine, you make me laugh. Next time this happens, just smile like the Mona Lisa, shake your head a bit, and murmer, "So dated . . ."
Posted by: Mary | Tuesday, January 24, 2012 at 06:19 AM