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廿賱賶 丕賱賮賳丕乇
"廿賱賶 丕賱賮賳丕乇": 廿丨丿賶 毓賱丕賲丕鬲 丕賱丨丿丕孬丞 丕賱乇賵丕卅賷丞 賮賷 丕賱賯乇賳 丕賱毓卮乇賷賳貙 賵兀賴賲 兀毓賲丕賱 丕賱亘乇賷胤丕賳賷丞 賮乇噩賷賳賷丕 賵賵賱賮貙 廿丨丿賶 賲丐爻爻賷 "鬲賷丕乇 丕賱賵毓賷" 賮賷 丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 丕賱毓丕賱賲賷丞. 乇賵丕賷丞 亘賱丕 兀丨丿丕孬 禺丕乇噩賷丞 匕丕鬲 亘丕賱貙 賮賱丕 鬲毓賳賷賴丕 兀卮賷丕亍 丕賱毓丕賱賲 丕賱禺丕乇噩賷貙 亘賯丿乇 賲丕 鬲睾賵氐 賮賷 丕賱毓丕賱賲 丕賱丿丕禺賱賷貙 睾賷乇 丕賱賲毓賱賳 賵睾賷乇 丕賱賲賰鬲賻卮賻賮貙 賮賷賲丕 賵乇丕亍 噩匕賵乇 毓賲賱賷丞 丕賱廿丿乇丕賰 賵丕賱賵毓賷 賵丕賱賳馗乇 廿賱賶 丕賱毓丕賱賲貙 賵賲丕 賷丐爻爻 賱賱毓賱丕賯丕鬲 丕賱廿賳爻丕賳賷丞 丕賱賲鬲亘丕丿賱丞. 賴賷 鬲毓乇賷丞 賱賱丿丕禺賱 丕賱廿賳爻丕賳賷貙 亘賰賱 賴卮丕卮鬲賴 賵廿丨亘丕胤丕鬲賴貙 亘賰賱 乇睾亘丕鬲賴 丕賱氐睾賷乇丞 賵丕賳賰爻丕乇丕鬲賴貙 亘賰賱 兀爻丕賴 賵毓噩夭賴 毓賳 丕賱禺乇賵噩 賲賳 丕賱丿賵丕卅乇 丕賱賲睾賱賯丞 賰爻噩賳 兀賵 丨賱亘丞 氐乇丕毓.
賵鬲乇噩賲丞 丿賯賷賯丞貙 亘乇睾賲 氐毓賵亘丞 丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 丕賱賯丕卅賲丞 毓賱賶 賳賵毓 賲賳 丕賱賰孬丕賮丞 丕賱賯氐賵賶 賱賱爻乇丿 賵丕賱賱睾丞貙 賵丕禺鬲賱丕胤 丕賱卮禺氐賷丕鬲貙 賵賲丨丕賮馗丞 -賮賷 賳賮爻 丕賱賵賯鬲- 毓賱賶 丕賱禺氐丕卅氐 丕賱兀爻賱賵亘賷丞 丕賱賮乇賷丿丞 賱賱乇賵丕卅賷丞 丕賱賮乇賷丿丞.
賵鬲乇噩賲丞 丿賯賷賯丞貙 亘乇睾賲 氐毓賵亘丞 丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 丕賱賯丕卅賲丞 毓賱賶 賳賵毓 賲賳 丕賱賰孬丕賮丞 丕賱賯氐賵賶 賱賱爻乇丿 賵丕賱賱睾丞貙 賵丕禺鬲賱丕胤 丕賱卮禺氐賷丕鬲貙 賵賲丨丕賮馗丞 -賮賷 賳賮爻 丕賱賵賯鬲- 毓賱賶 丕賱禺氐丕卅氐 丕賱兀爻賱賵亘賷丞 丕賱賮乇賷丿丞 賱賱乇賵丕卅賷丞 丕賱賮乇賷丿丞.
327 pages, Paperback
First published May 5, 1927
19.7k people are currently reading
355k people want to read
About the author
Virginia Woolf
1,935听books27.2k听followers(Adeline) Virginia Woolf was an English novelist and essayist regarded as one of the foremost modernist literary figures of the twentieth century.
During the interwar period, Woolf was a significant figure in London literary society and a member of the Bloomsbury Group. Her most famous works include the novels Mrs. Dalloway (1925), To the Lighthouse (1927), and Orlando (1928), and the book-length essay A Room of One's Own (1929) with its famous dictum, "a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction."
During the interwar period, Woolf was a significant figure in London literary society and a member of the Bloomsbury Group. Her most famous works include the novels Mrs. Dalloway (1925), To the Lighthouse (1927), and Orlando (1928), and the book-length essay A Room of One's Own (1929) with its famous dictum, "a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction."
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April 9, 2025
The lighthouse is out there, it's eye caressing our struggles with cold indifference. We can beat against the tides in pursuit, but will we ever reach it? Does it even matter, and is it even attainable? If we only look to that spot on the horizon we miss the love around us, miss those gasping for our love and friendship, miss the callouses born in dedicated strife rowing us towards the end. Like in all things, it is the journey that matters, not the destination. Futility can be beautiful, especially when we don't give up on plunging our oars against it and making our place in a world destined to end in a .... flash.....
鈥�鈥or it was not knowledge but unity that she desired, not inscriptions on tablets, nothing that could be written in any language known to men, but intimacy itself, which is knowledge鈥�鈥�
To enter within the pages of Woolf鈥檚 1927 masterpiece, To the Lighthouse, is to dive headlong into a maelstrom of vivid perspectives and flawless prose. Few authors are able to achieve the vast scope of human emotions and frustrations as of this novel, let alone accomplish such a task in the mere 209pgs Woolf offers. Flowing to the breezy soundtrack of waves breaking upon the shoreline, To the Lighthouse investigates the frailties of life and human relationships in breathtaking prose through the minds and hearts of Woolf鈥檚 characters as they struggle to affect a state of permanence within an ever-changing ephemeral existence.
Reading Woolf is like reading an extended prose poem. Each word shimmers from the page as every sentence illuminates the deep caverns of the heart. She accentuates her themes through carefully chosen imagery and metaphors, or constantly alluding to the passage of time themes through metaphors of fraying draperies and aging furniture and keeping the focus on the island setting through descriptions such as 鈥�bitter waves of despair鈥�. The notion of each person as an island plays a major role in the novel. The waves continuously crash on shore much like the collision of characters as they interact and attempt to understand one another. These repetitions of ideas and symbols are used through this novel as a method of reinforcing them. Similarly, the characters often repeat their own beliefs, much like a mantra, to help reassure themselves of who they are.
Woolf effectively utilizes her own stream-of-consciousness style to tell her story, examining each characters unique perspectives and feelings of one another that culminate to form a tragically beautiful portrait of the human condition. Unlike the stream-of-consciousness technique employed by others such as or , Woolf retains a consistence prose style, being more an observer of the inner-workings of each character instead of melding with their consciousness and writing in their own words. While this may seem a cop-out to some, it felt actually beneficial to the structure of this novel, such as allowing Woolf to seamlessly transition from character to character. This also was in keeping with the 鈥榩erson as an island鈥� theme since we could only observe through an authorial perspective and never truly know commune with the character, leaving the reader as just another wave crashing upon the shoreline of their consciousness. Late in the novel, Lily ponders over the power of narrating what one thinks a person is like as a method of understanding them: 鈥�this making up scenes about them, is what we call 鈥渒nowing鈥� people, 鈥渢hinking鈥� of them, 鈥渂eing fond鈥� of them!鈥� There are several metafictional moments such as this within the novel that justify Woolf鈥檚 stylistic choices. Woolf鈥檚 decision to maintain a constant narration makes the book 鈥榓bout鈥� perspectives instead of 鈥榗onstructed out of鈥� perspectives.
Human interaction is the crux of this novel, and also one of its saddest messages. These characters interact daily and are under the constant scrutiny of one another, yet, try as they might, they can never truly understand each other. 鈥�She would never know him. He would never know her. Human relations were all like that, she thought, and the worst were between men and women鈥�. They all try to leave their impressions upon one another but, at the end of the day, are still only left with their perspective and opinion of the others instead of the unity and knowledge of who their contemporaries truly are inside and what motivates their actions. They are forever separated by the fact that souls cannot ever meld and become one. The real tragedy is that these characters, while desiring to understand and be understood, more often than not hurt one another, often due to fear and insecurity, through their attempts of reaching into the others soul. Mr. Ramsey, while being exceptionally needy of praise and security, keeps his family at arms length through his neediness while resenting them and wishing they would leave him be: 鈥�he would have written better books if he had not married鈥�.
These characters reach out to one another as if to a life raft, they need something to cling to and bind them with the present. Each character in their own way, be it Mr. Ramsey鈥檚 philosophy, Mr. Carmichael鈥檚 poetry, Lily鈥檚 paintings or Mrs. Ramsey鈥檚 guiding hand, attempt to leave their permanent scar on the face of eternity. Mrs. Ramsey in particular fears death and the unstoppable change that pushes us forward towards the grave. 鈥�A scene that was vanishing even as she looked鈥t shaped itself differently; it had become, she knew, giving one last look at it over her shoulder, already the past鈥�. She watches in horror as time slips by, firmly believing nothing good can come with the future and goes so far as to cover up Deaths bleak head in the form of a boars skull that hangs on her children鈥檚 walls. 鈥�With her mind she had already seized the fact that there is no reason, order, justice but suffering, death, the poor. There was no treachery too base fir the world to commit鈥� No happiness lasted鈥�. No matter what, time will pass us all by, like the lighthouse beam, illuminating us and calling us up from the dark for one brief moment, and then passing on again to leave us formless in the dark. If is fitting, given the fears of death and time passing, that death comes in this novel swiftly and suddenly. There is no telling when the beam of life will be gone, no preparations can be made, and we must deal with it. Such is existence. These fears can only be subsided, our lives given meaning, if we can reach each other, understand and love each other, thereby existing forever in memory and framed by love in the hearts of those we knew.
This novel takes much inspiration from Woolf鈥檚 own life (Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey being based on Virginia鈥檚 own parents, making this an elegy to her own mother as well as an elegy to Mrs. R) and doubly serves as a cutting commentary on the literary world in which Woolf was immersed. Woolf set out to oppose the obdurate male society that dominated the literary scene, Tansley鈥檚 words to Lily of 鈥�women can鈥檛 paint, women can鈥檛 write鈥� echoing a stereotype that Woolf would have had to combat her whole life. Woolf combats the patriarchy through this novel, creating a sleek, short masterpiece as opposed to the behemoth (but equally amazing) , filled with attacks on the 鈥�masculine intelligence鈥� and making parody of the male opinions on women. Often the reader is given the opinion though a male perspective that 鈥�women made civilization impossible with all their 鈥渃harm鈥�, all their 鈥渟illiness鈥濃€�鈥�, yet these same men crave the attention and affection of Mrs. Ramsey 鈥� they fly into an anxious fit without the reassurance of the women. They spend their time thinking lofty thoughts, but it is the women that keep order. Mrs. Ramsey despises such masculine activities as hunting and is the head of the household and the keeper of peace, yet she still reads as a bit of a cautionary tale. She still succumbs to the gender roles expected of her, such as being submissive to Mr. Ramsey and playing matchmaker 鈥� although this serves more as her attempt to maintain control over life than actually falling into stereotypes. Lily is therefor given as the ideal, the one who can press on despite naysayers like Tansley, be a self-sustaining, ambitious woman that keeps an understanding and open heart and painting those around her into eternity through her perseverance.
This was without a doubt one of the finest novels I have ever read. Woolf offers pages after page of incredible poetry, never letting up for an instant. It takes a bit to get your footing, as she drops the reader right into the scene without any exposition, but once you have found your bearings your heart will swell with each flawless word. The middle section of the novel, the brief 20pgs of 鈥楾ime Passes鈥�, may be one of the most enduring and extraordinary displays of writing I have ever seen. This novel will force the reader to face the bleak truths of change and death along with the characters, yet offer a glimmer of hope through unity and love that is sure to strike a chord in even the coldest of hearts, all the while being a stunning anthem of feminism. This is a novel to read, and read again and again as you witness your own present and future fade into the past.
5/5
鈥�Of such moments, she thought, the thing is made that endures鈥�
This novel came highly recommended to me through two trusted friends, whose reviews I would like to share with you and
But don鈥檛 just take our word for it, because this is one that should not be missed!
鈥�鈥or it was not knowledge but unity that she desired, not inscriptions on tablets, nothing that could be written in any language known to men, but intimacy itself, which is knowledge鈥�鈥�
To enter within the pages of Woolf鈥檚 1927 masterpiece, To the Lighthouse, is to dive headlong into a maelstrom of vivid perspectives and flawless prose. Few authors are able to achieve the vast scope of human emotions and frustrations as of this novel, let alone accomplish such a task in the mere 209pgs Woolf offers. Flowing to the breezy soundtrack of waves breaking upon the shoreline, To the Lighthouse investigates the frailties of life and human relationships in breathtaking prose through the minds and hearts of Woolf鈥檚 characters as they struggle to affect a state of permanence within an ever-changing ephemeral existence.
Reading Woolf is like reading an extended prose poem. Each word shimmers from the page as every sentence illuminates the deep caverns of the heart. She accentuates her themes through carefully chosen imagery and metaphors, or constantly alluding to the passage of time themes through metaphors of fraying draperies and aging furniture and keeping the focus on the island setting through descriptions such as 鈥�bitter waves of despair鈥�. The notion of each person as an island plays a major role in the novel. The waves continuously crash on shore much like the collision of characters as they interact and attempt to understand one another. These repetitions of ideas and symbols are used through this novel as a method of reinforcing them. Similarly, the characters often repeat their own beliefs, much like a mantra, to help reassure themselves of who they are.
Woolf effectively utilizes her own stream-of-consciousness style to tell her story, examining each characters unique perspectives and feelings of one another that culminate to form a tragically beautiful portrait of the human condition. Unlike the stream-of-consciousness technique employed by others such as or , Woolf retains a consistence prose style, being more an observer of the inner-workings of each character instead of melding with their consciousness and writing in their own words. While this may seem a cop-out to some, it felt actually beneficial to the structure of this novel, such as allowing Woolf to seamlessly transition from character to character. This also was in keeping with the 鈥榩erson as an island鈥� theme since we could only observe through an authorial perspective and never truly know commune with the character, leaving the reader as just another wave crashing upon the shoreline of their consciousness. Late in the novel, Lily ponders over the power of narrating what one thinks a person is like as a method of understanding them: 鈥�this making up scenes about them, is what we call 鈥渒nowing鈥� people, 鈥渢hinking鈥� of them, 鈥渂eing fond鈥� of them!鈥� There are several metafictional moments such as this within the novel that justify Woolf鈥檚 stylistic choices. Woolf鈥檚 decision to maintain a constant narration makes the book 鈥榓bout鈥� perspectives instead of 鈥榗onstructed out of鈥� perspectives.
Human interaction is the crux of this novel, and also one of its saddest messages. These characters interact daily and are under the constant scrutiny of one another, yet, try as they might, they can never truly understand each other. 鈥�She would never know him. He would never know her. Human relations were all like that, she thought, and the worst were between men and women鈥�. They all try to leave their impressions upon one another but, at the end of the day, are still only left with their perspective and opinion of the others instead of the unity and knowledge of who their contemporaries truly are inside and what motivates their actions. They are forever separated by the fact that souls cannot ever meld and become one. The real tragedy is that these characters, while desiring to understand and be understood, more often than not hurt one another, often due to fear and insecurity, through their attempts of reaching into the others soul. Mr. Ramsey, while being exceptionally needy of praise and security, keeps his family at arms length through his neediness while resenting them and wishing they would leave him be: 鈥�he would have written better books if he had not married鈥�.
These characters reach out to one another as if to a life raft, they need something to cling to and bind them with the present. Each character in their own way, be it Mr. Ramsey鈥檚 philosophy, Mr. Carmichael鈥檚 poetry, Lily鈥檚 paintings or Mrs. Ramsey鈥檚 guiding hand, attempt to leave their permanent scar on the face of eternity. Mrs. Ramsey in particular fears death and the unstoppable change that pushes us forward towards the grave. 鈥�A scene that was vanishing even as she looked鈥t shaped itself differently; it had become, she knew, giving one last look at it over her shoulder, already the past鈥�. She watches in horror as time slips by, firmly believing nothing good can come with the future and goes so far as to cover up Deaths bleak head in the form of a boars skull that hangs on her children鈥檚 walls. 鈥�With her mind she had already seized the fact that there is no reason, order, justice but suffering, death, the poor. There was no treachery too base fir the world to commit鈥� No happiness lasted鈥�. No matter what, time will pass us all by, like the lighthouse beam, illuminating us and calling us up from the dark for one brief moment, and then passing on again to leave us formless in the dark. If is fitting, given the fears of death and time passing, that death comes in this novel swiftly and suddenly. There is no telling when the beam of life will be gone, no preparations can be made, and we must deal with it. Such is existence. These fears can only be subsided, our lives given meaning, if we can reach each other, understand and love each other, thereby existing forever in memory and framed by love in the hearts of those we knew.
This novel takes much inspiration from Woolf鈥檚 own life (Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey being based on Virginia鈥檚 own parents, making this an elegy to her own mother as well as an elegy to Mrs. R) and doubly serves as a cutting commentary on the literary world in which Woolf was immersed. Woolf set out to oppose the obdurate male society that dominated the literary scene, Tansley鈥檚 words to Lily of 鈥�women can鈥檛 paint, women can鈥檛 write鈥� echoing a stereotype that Woolf would have had to combat her whole life. Woolf combats the patriarchy through this novel, creating a sleek, short masterpiece as opposed to the behemoth (but equally amazing) , filled with attacks on the 鈥�masculine intelligence鈥� and making parody of the male opinions on women. Often the reader is given the opinion though a male perspective that 鈥�women made civilization impossible with all their 鈥渃harm鈥�, all their 鈥渟illiness鈥濃€�鈥�, yet these same men crave the attention and affection of Mrs. Ramsey 鈥� they fly into an anxious fit without the reassurance of the women. They spend their time thinking lofty thoughts, but it is the women that keep order. Mrs. Ramsey despises such masculine activities as hunting and is the head of the household and the keeper of peace, yet she still reads as a bit of a cautionary tale. She still succumbs to the gender roles expected of her, such as being submissive to Mr. Ramsey and playing matchmaker 鈥� although this serves more as her attempt to maintain control over life than actually falling into stereotypes. Lily is therefor given as the ideal, the one who can press on despite naysayers like Tansley, be a self-sustaining, ambitious woman that keeps an understanding and open heart and painting those around her into eternity through her perseverance.
This was without a doubt one of the finest novels I have ever read. Woolf offers pages after page of incredible poetry, never letting up for an instant. It takes a bit to get your footing, as she drops the reader right into the scene without any exposition, but once you have found your bearings your heart will swell with each flawless word. The middle section of the novel, the brief 20pgs of 鈥楾ime Passes鈥�, may be one of the most enduring and extraordinary displays of writing I have ever seen. This novel will force the reader to face the bleak truths of change and death along with the characters, yet offer a glimmer of hope through unity and love that is sure to strike a chord in even the coldest of hearts, all the while being a stunning anthem of feminism. This is a novel to read, and read again and again as you witness your own present and future fade into the past.
5/5
鈥�Of such moments, she thought, the thing is made that endures鈥�
This novel came highly recommended to me through two trusted friends, whose reviews I would like to share with you and
But don鈥檛 just take our word for it, because this is one that should not be missed!
September 25, 2012
I鈥檝e never dwelt over a set of 200 bound pages with as much joy and relish as I have with To the Lighthouse. I can say without reservation, that this is some of the most incredible writing I鈥檝e ever come across and I鈥檓 absolutely baffled as to how Woolf pulled it off. So much of the prose was redolent of an abstract surrealist film, such were the clarity and preciseness of its images. At a certain point Woolf describes an idea entering a character鈥檚 mind as a drop of ink diffusing in a beaker of water. I left several exclamation points and expressions of pure joy among the marginalia of my copy. I have never experienced such a strange brew of images and ideas that whirl around mere words of a novel, all of which has incited such excitement in me, as if some beautiful and aching aspect of human experience has been solidified on paper that will never be as perfect as it is here.
This book bounces back and forth between philosophy, psychology and fictionalized story telling in such an interweaving of narrative and personal reflection that it may be difficult to discern who is thinking what and which thoughts are the result of whom. This is especially predominant in the opening section, when Woolf just shoves you into the churning waters of her prose and doesn鈥檛 throw you a life raft until 45 pages in. The is intentional however, because the book is preoccupied with consciousness at its most mercurial. If at any time, the prose is lucid and clear, it is sure to take a turn for the chaotic within a few pages. There is so much attention given to each individual鈥檚 neuroses and preoccupations that they are often magnified beyond your typical day to day worries. The sights are bright and irritating; the sounds are cacophonous; and the emotional cues between each character, the ones that are often subtle and implicit in everyday interaction, are rendered as if each character holds equal parts pure malice and enthralling love that threatens to burst open at any second. I thought about highly sensitive people; I thought of those with autism that experience overwhelming intensity from their sensual perception. I thought of all of those that are under bombardment from the outer world, tingling in its euphoric highs and devastating lows. For some, it may seem as though Woolf overly dramatizes experience, but what she really does is puts her character through life at its most intense and acute. The lives of the characters are so rich in emotion that dipping into their world, for mere pages at a time, is like taking a giant bump of the pure stuff, getting tweaked on all the unbelievable wonder that is conscious experience. I thought of Jeff Mangum鈥檚 infamous lyric, how strange it is to be anything at all.
I was fortunate enough to have already read The Waves鈥攁 book quite similar in its themes and images鈥攊n a classroom setting with a brilliant professor. It allowed me a way into Lighthouse that I might not have had otherwise. If it wasn鈥檛 for this frame of reading, I may have been a little too overwhelmed by the non-stop poetic bombardment. So, I will say that my previous experience with Woolf helped tremendously. I have no doubt that anyone who would pick up this book would be blown away by it, but without certain perquisites, it could be a book to throw across the room out of bewilderment. It can be tough. It can be verbose. But it is undoubtably one of the best books I鈥檝e read this year.
During her time as a writer, Woolf was quite invested in the scientific theories of her day. There are, apparently, a lot of her own personal writing that spoke highly of her research into the area and all of the scientific advances being made at the turn of the century, a time heralded by the legendary Charles Darwin. Woolf鈥檚 focus wasn鈥檛 necessarily on natural selection鈥攁lthough its influence is present鈥攂ut on the theories and writings surrounding thermodynamics. Although I鈥檓 woefully unqualified to talk about the finer points of thermodynamics, what鈥檚 important for reading Woolf, is the idea of the conservation of energy, moreover, the fact that matter is never lost. It is continually recycled and that all of our world is a constant fluctuation of heat and matter, moving in and out of different systems鈥攊ncluding that oh so special system called human beings.
Although, ostensibly our experience of the world tells us that we are one solidified unit of matter, always held together in the perfected feeling of selfness and oneness that is our day to day life, the truth couldn鈥檛 be any further from that. Woolf seemed particularly haunted by the idea that what seemed to be a solidified conscious experience was actually a continual fluctuation of matter, on a physical level, and the consequential thoughts, worries and sensual bombardment, on the experiential level. These new ideas destabilized previous notions about our awareness of the world as the absolute avenue to truth and the reality of this world. Thus, it is in this tension that the characters of To the Lighthouse find themselves in. They are obsessed with creating still images out of the cacophony of a thermodynamic universe, trying to cling to old notions of a person still being that solidified center of the world. A character will revel in the beauty and wonderment of a single moment, only to have it slip away from them and be washed away in the tumultuous seas of conscious experience. Although our minds create perfected still images out of the constant transformation of matter around, these still images skip away into the past before they can be fully grasped, fully made whole: 鈥淲ith her foot on the threshold she waited a moment longer in a scene which was vanishing even as she looked, and then, as she moved and took Minta鈥檚 arm and left the room, it changed, shaped itself differently; it had become, she knew, giving one last look at it over her shoulder, already the past鈥�
But more than any lofty philosophical or scientific conceits, this book is achingly beautiful. Never for a moment does the specifics of the scientific theory engulf the work. Instead it remains above the surface, leaving its impact upon you emotionally. The book is wrought with beautiful feeling and what could possibly make this better than the work of Joyce, for example is that it never leaves one with a cold intellectual shoulder or the folded-arm distance of an extravagant feat of technical writing skill. Woolf goes for the gut.
And even if you are completed uninterested in the finer points of Woolf鈥檚 overall conceit, you can still appreciate the beauty of the titular image鈥攖he lighthouse. I was particularly moved by all of Woolf鈥檚 images of water as a stand in for conscious experience in all its tumultuous churning; and the fact that a lighthouse is the tall solidified object which brings ships lost at sea back to solid ground; and the fact that this lighthouse is what the characters hang all their hopes and desires upon; and the fact that we, the reader, must sail through all that thick prose to get to the promised reward at the end,
The lighthouse, for there it was.
This book bounces back and forth between philosophy, psychology and fictionalized story telling in such an interweaving of narrative and personal reflection that it may be difficult to discern who is thinking what and which thoughts are the result of whom. This is especially predominant in the opening section, when Woolf just shoves you into the churning waters of her prose and doesn鈥檛 throw you a life raft until 45 pages in. The is intentional however, because the book is preoccupied with consciousness at its most mercurial. If at any time, the prose is lucid and clear, it is sure to take a turn for the chaotic within a few pages. There is so much attention given to each individual鈥檚 neuroses and preoccupations that they are often magnified beyond your typical day to day worries. The sights are bright and irritating; the sounds are cacophonous; and the emotional cues between each character, the ones that are often subtle and implicit in everyday interaction, are rendered as if each character holds equal parts pure malice and enthralling love that threatens to burst open at any second. I thought about highly sensitive people; I thought of those with autism that experience overwhelming intensity from their sensual perception. I thought of all of those that are under bombardment from the outer world, tingling in its euphoric highs and devastating lows. For some, it may seem as though Woolf overly dramatizes experience, but what she really does is puts her character through life at its most intense and acute. The lives of the characters are so rich in emotion that dipping into their world, for mere pages at a time, is like taking a giant bump of the pure stuff, getting tweaked on all the unbelievable wonder that is conscious experience. I thought of Jeff Mangum鈥檚 infamous lyric, how strange it is to be anything at all.
I was fortunate enough to have already read The Waves鈥攁 book quite similar in its themes and images鈥攊n a classroom setting with a brilliant professor. It allowed me a way into Lighthouse that I might not have had otherwise. If it wasn鈥檛 for this frame of reading, I may have been a little too overwhelmed by the non-stop poetic bombardment. So, I will say that my previous experience with Woolf helped tremendously. I have no doubt that anyone who would pick up this book would be blown away by it, but without certain perquisites, it could be a book to throw across the room out of bewilderment. It can be tough. It can be verbose. But it is undoubtably one of the best books I鈥檝e read this year.
During her time as a writer, Woolf was quite invested in the scientific theories of her day. There are, apparently, a lot of her own personal writing that spoke highly of her research into the area and all of the scientific advances being made at the turn of the century, a time heralded by the legendary Charles Darwin. Woolf鈥檚 focus wasn鈥檛 necessarily on natural selection鈥攁lthough its influence is present鈥攂ut on the theories and writings surrounding thermodynamics. Although I鈥檓 woefully unqualified to talk about the finer points of thermodynamics, what鈥檚 important for reading Woolf, is the idea of the conservation of energy, moreover, the fact that matter is never lost. It is continually recycled and that all of our world is a constant fluctuation of heat and matter, moving in and out of different systems鈥攊ncluding that oh so special system called human beings.
Although, ostensibly our experience of the world tells us that we are one solidified unit of matter, always held together in the perfected feeling of selfness and oneness that is our day to day life, the truth couldn鈥檛 be any further from that. Woolf seemed particularly haunted by the idea that what seemed to be a solidified conscious experience was actually a continual fluctuation of matter, on a physical level, and the consequential thoughts, worries and sensual bombardment, on the experiential level. These new ideas destabilized previous notions about our awareness of the world as the absolute avenue to truth and the reality of this world. Thus, it is in this tension that the characters of To the Lighthouse find themselves in. They are obsessed with creating still images out of the cacophony of a thermodynamic universe, trying to cling to old notions of a person still being that solidified center of the world. A character will revel in the beauty and wonderment of a single moment, only to have it slip away from them and be washed away in the tumultuous seas of conscious experience. Although our minds create perfected still images out of the constant transformation of matter around, these still images skip away into the past before they can be fully grasped, fully made whole: 鈥淲ith her foot on the threshold she waited a moment longer in a scene which was vanishing even as she looked, and then, as she moved and took Minta鈥檚 arm and left the room, it changed, shaped itself differently; it had become, she knew, giving one last look at it over her shoulder, already the past鈥�
But more than any lofty philosophical or scientific conceits, this book is achingly beautiful. Never for a moment does the specifics of the scientific theory engulf the work. Instead it remains above the surface, leaving its impact upon you emotionally. The book is wrought with beautiful feeling and what could possibly make this better than the work of Joyce, for example is that it never leaves one with a cold intellectual shoulder or the folded-arm distance of an extravagant feat of technical writing skill. Woolf goes for the gut.
And even if you are completed uninterested in the finer points of Woolf鈥檚 overall conceit, you can still appreciate the beauty of the titular image鈥攖he lighthouse. I was particularly moved by all of Woolf鈥檚 images of water as a stand in for conscious experience in all its tumultuous churning; and the fact that a lighthouse is the tall solidified object which brings ships lost at sea back to solid ground; and the fact that this lighthouse is what the characters hang all their hopes and desires upon; and the fact that we, the reader, must sail through all that thick prose to get to the promised reward at the end,
The lighthouse, for there it was.
March 27, 2021
I think this book is Virginia Woolf鈥檚 masterpiece, not The Waves as some critics say. What is it about? It鈥檚 about life. The first half is about two days of life; the second half, set ten years later, is largely about death. In the Intro by Eudora Welty she says that in the novel 鈥渞eality looms鈥� but 鈥淟ove indeed pervades the whole novel.鈥�
The lighthouse of the book is Godrevy near St. Ives in Cornwall (where the author actually summered). The main character is a beautiful woman 鈥渋n full,鈥� her eight children and husband and guests gathered around her at a summer vacation cottage. Fourteen people in all at dinner, one a scholar friend of her husband who is in love with her, plus cook and maids.
At the dinner she worries 鈥淣othing seems to have merged. They all sat separate. And the whole of the effort of merging and flowing and creating rested on her.鈥�
She鈥檚 hosts a successful dinner despite numerous minor aggravations and interruptions by the cooks and problem with the food. The meal is her masterpiece, the epitome of her happiness. She delights in matchmaking.
Her husband, an academic, is withdrawn, conceited, stingy, in his praise of the children. He holds it over their heads about how the weather will be bad so they won鈥檛 be able to take a boat trip to the lighthouse. He鈥檚 more concerned with how the future will view his academic work than he is with the present. Yet, with everyone else to take it out on, he seems happier than his wife: 鈥淟ess exposed to human worries鈥e always had his work to fall back on.鈥�
Some passages I liked:
At the dinner a young woman learns about her 鈥榞olden haze.鈥� 鈥淪ometimes she had it; sometimes not. She never knew why it came or why it went, or if she had it until she came into the room and then she knew instantly by the way some man looked at her.鈥�
鈥淲hat was the meaning of life? That was all 鈥� a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come.鈥�
鈥� - no she thought, one could say nothing to nobody. The urgency of the moment always missed its mark. Words fluttered sideways and struck the object too low.鈥�
There is an ungainly female friend who paints. She smarts from a remark by a male friend: 鈥淲omen can鈥檛 write, women can鈥檛 paint鈥︹€� After several repetitions of this in her mind in the book, by the end of the novel she is adding 鈥溾€ot so much that he believed it, as that for some odd reason he wished it?鈥�
What author ever asked this question (below) before?
鈥淗ow then did it work out, all of this? How did one judge people, think of them? How did one add up this and that and conclude that it was liking one felt, or disliking? And to those words, what meaning attached, after all?鈥�
A beautiful classic, of course. I read this years ago when I was too young to appreciate it. I鈥檓 adding it to my favorites.
top photo: Godrevy lighthouse; view from St. Ives, Cornwall, from geograph.org.uk.
bottom: Talland House, St. Ives, Woolf's vacation home as a child, from Wikipedia
The lighthouse of the book is Godrevy near St. Ives in Cornwall (where the author actually summered). The main character is a beautiful woman 鈥渋n full,鈥� her eight children and husband and guests gathered around her at a summer vacation cottage. Fourteen people in all at dinner, one a scholar friend of her husband who is in love with her, plus cook and maids.
At the dinner she worries 鈥淣othing seems to have merged. They all sat separate. And the whole of the effort of merging and flowing and creating rested on her.鈥�
She鈥檚 hosts a successful dinner despite numerous minor aggravations and interruptions by the cooks and problem with the food. The meal is her masterpiece, the epitome of her happiness. She delights in matchmaking.
Her husband, an academic, is withdrawn, conceited, stingy, in his praise of the children. He holds it over their heads about how the weather will be bad so they won鈥檛 be able to take a boat trip to the lighthouse. He鈥檚 more concerned with how the future will view his academic work than he is with the present. Yet, with everyone else to take it out on, he seems happier than his wife: 鈥淟ess exposed to human worries鈥e always had his work to fall back on.鈥�
Some passages I liked:
At the dinner a young woman learns about her 鈥榞olden haze.鈥� 鈥淪ometimes she had it; sometimes not. She never knew why it came or why it went, or if she had it until she came into the room and then she knew instantly by the way some man looked at her.鈥�
鈥淲hat was the meaning of life? That was all 鈥� a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come.鈥�
鈥� - no she thought, one could say nothing to nobody. The urgency of the moment always missed its mark. Words fluttered sideways and struck the object too low.鈥�
There is an ungainly female friend who paints. She smarts from a remark by a male friend: 鈥淲omen can鈥檛 write, women can鈥檛 paint鈥︹€� After several repetitions of this in her mind in the book, by the end of the novel she is adding 鈥溾€ot so much that he believed it, as that for some odd reason he wished it?鈥�
What author ever asked this question (below) before?
鈥淗ow then did it work out, all of this? How did one judge people, think of them? How did one add up this and that and conclude that it was liking one felt, or disliking? And to those words, what meaning attached, after all?鈥�
A beautiful classic, of course. I read this years ago when I was too young to appreciate it. I鈥檓 adding it to my favorites.
top photo: Godrevy lighthouse; view from St. Ives, Cornwall, from geograph.org.uk.
bottom: Talland House, St. Ives, Woolf's vacation home as a child, from Wikipedia
December 25, 2021
3rd Prize. Favourite Books read in 2021
The Idiot鈥檚 Guide to reading Virginia Woolf To The Lighthouse or I am not that smart to write a serious review.
If you would answer with 鈥濵e鈥� at the famous question 鈥濿ho is afraid of Virginia Woolf?鈥� than this short guide is for you. Here are my steps to finally conquer one of the most celebrated and feared authors of the English canon.
Step 1. Choose one of her novels and start reading. No procrastination for years and years. I added To The Lighthouse to my shelves in 2014 and I could not gathered the courage to start the novel until now. What changed? A discussion about her genius on Zoom.
Step 2. Do not fall asleep and carry on even if after the first 25 pages or so you have no idea what the plot is about and who is talking.
Step 3: Read the synopsis first. It helps knowing who are the characters and what (little) happens to whom. The stream of consciousness type of writing jumps from one character to the other and back to an omniscient narrator with no warning. A bit of reading about the themes also helps. Nothing happens and everything happens. It is a novel about suppressed feelings, about women鈥檚 condition, about life, death and much more. It is a book about the subtleties of life, about what is not said but felt.
Step 4: Listened to the book if you can/ like. Juliet Stevenson has the perfect voice and pacing. She saved me with Madam Bovary a few months ago so I already knew her narration will be perfect.
Step 5 and the most important one. Let it Go as the famous song says. You might keep asking yourself, as all the characters of the novel do, 鈥濿hat it all means鈥�. Don鈥檛. Just let the writing flow, envelope your senses and seduce you. Let go of the need for control and to be able to understand everything. I understood more and followed better when I stopped fighting.
The novel was beautiful, I can鈥檛 find the words to explain why. I am truly happy I can now say that I am not longer afraid of Virginia Woolf.
鈥淲hat is the meaning of life? That was all- a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years, the great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.鈥�
The Idiot鈥檚 Guide to reading Virginia Woolf To The Lighthouse or I am not that smart to write a serious review.
If you would answer with 鈥濵e鈥� at the famous question 鈥濿ho is afraid of Virginia Woolf?鈥� than this short guide is for you. Here are my steps to finally conquer one of the most celebrated and feared authors of the English canon.
Step 1. Choose one of her novels and start reading. No procrastination for years and years. I added To The Lighthouse to my shelves in 2014 and I could not gathered the courage to start the novel until now. What changed? A discussion about her genius on Zoom.
Step 2. Do not fall asleep and carry on even if after the first 25 pages or so you have no idea what the plot is about and who is talking.
Step 3: Read the synopsis first. It helps knowing who are the characters and what (little) happens to whom. The stream of consciousness type of writing jumps from one character to the other and back to an omniscient narrator with no warning. A bit of reading about the themes also helps. Nothing happens and everything happens. It is a novel about suppressed feelings, about women鈥檚 condition, about life, death and much more. It is a book about the subtleties of life, about what is not said but felt.
Step 4: Listened to the book if you can/ like. Juliet Stevenson has the perfect voice and pacing. She saved me with Madam Bovary a few months ago so I already knew her narration will be perfect.
Step 5 and the most important one. Let it Go as the famous song says. You might keep asking yourself, as all the characters of the novel do, 鈥濿hat it all means鈥�. Don鈥檛. Just let the writing flow, envelope your senses and seduce you. Let go of the need for control and to be able to understand everything. I understood more and followed better when I stopped fighting.
The novel was beautiful, I can鈥檛 find the words to explain why. I am truly happy I can now say that I am not longer afraid of Virginia Woolf.
鈥淲hat is the meaning of life? That was all- a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years, the great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.鈥�
August 13, 2016
It's a problem, dear Virginia
They like stuff that's much more linear,
I know your teeth you will grit
But you have to admit
You may be hot but there's not
a lot of plot that you got
Five pages about rain on a distant steeple
Is five too many for most of the British people
They moan about Mrs Dalloway
In such a very callow way
Instead of your Orlando
They prefer something more blando
They'd rather go to raves
Than have to read The Waves
And no one's read The Years
In years and years and years
Well - i know it's prostitution
But here is my solution
Because the horror being unread
Is worse than being undead
If a Ramsay had gone to the lighthouse
To have a bit of sex
Or if one of the younger striplings
Had had some rippling pecs
On which you used your vocabulary
And got a visit from the constabulary
And was found to be obscene and demented
And they found out what the lighthouse鈥� represented
Well, then you would not now languish
In postmorten anguish
And though you'd never have a prayer
Of outselling Stephanie Meyer
Still your books would be devoured
Delightfully deflowered
And though never to be milf
Woolf would become wilf
They like stuff that's much more linear,
I know your teeth you will grit
But you have to admit
You may be hot but there's not
a lot of plot that you got
Five pages about rain on a distant steeple
Is five too many for most of the British people
They moan about Mrs Dalloway
In such a very callow way
Instead of your Orlando
They prefer something more blando
They'd rather go to raves
Than have to read The Waves
And no one's read The Years
In years and years and years
Well - i know it's prostitution
But here is my solution
Because the horror being unread
Is worse than being undead
If a Ramsay had gone to the lighthouse
To have a bit of sex
Or if one of the younger striplings
Had had some rippling pecs
On which you used your vocabulary
And got a visit from the constabulary
And was found to be obscene and demented
And they found out what the lighthouse鈥� represented
Well, then you would not now languish
In postmorten anguish
And though you'd never have a prayer
Of outselling Stephanie Meyer
Still your books would be devoured
Delightfully deflowered
And though never to be milf
Woolf would become wilf
May 17, 2018
I鈥檓 sorry...I just don鈥檛 get it?
This book has numerous five star reviews, and while I understand it isn鈥檛 plot driven, the characters are so vague? They all kind of blur together so I never really knew who was speaking/thinking and when. So many thoughts flying around and I just didn鈥檛 see the point in them.
I guess I just don鈥檛 have the mind required to appreciate whatever it is I am supposed to appreciate in this book.
If someone would like to tell me what it is I missed that would be helpful, because I am just lost.
This book has numerous five star reviews, and while I understand it isn鈥檛 plot driven, the characters are so vague? They all kind of blur together so I never really knew who was speaking/thinking and when. So many thoughts flying around and I just didn鈥檛 see the point in them.
I guess I just don鈥檛 have the mind required to appreciate whatever it is I am supposed to appreciate in this book.
If someone would like to tell me what it is I missed that would be helpful, because I am just lost.
August 6, 2022
There are two bright autumnal days鈥� And thousands of dark nights in between鈥� Two days in life鈥�
To the Lighthouse is a story about futility鈥�
To the Lighthouse is a book about demolishing properties of time鈥�
And Shakespeare鈥檚 sonnet, cited in the novel, may serve as a kind of key to the entire idea of the story:
While living we just play with shadows鈥� And the play of shadows is all around鈥�
The living is hard, darkness falls but straight ahead there is a lighthouse and it keeps beckoning.
The insincerity slipping in among the truths roused her, annoyed her. She returned to her knitting again. How could any Lord have made this world? she asked. With her mind she had always seized the fact that there is no reason, order, justice: but suffering, death, the poor. There was no treachery too base for the world to commit; she knew that. No happiness lasted; she knew that.
To the Lighthouse is a story about futility鈥�
At the far end, was her husband, sitting down, all in a heap, frowning. What at? She did not know. She did not mind. She could not understand how she had ever felt any emotion or any affection for him. She had a sense of being past everything, through everything, out of everything, as she helped the soup, as if there was an eddy 鈥� there 鈥� and one could be in it, or one could be out of it, and she was out of it. It鈥檚 all come to an end, she thought鈥�
To the Lighthouse is a book about demolishing properties of time鈥�
And Shakespeare鈥檚 sonnet, cited in the novel, may serve as a kind of key to the entire idea of the story:
鈥淣or did I wonder at the lily鈥檚 white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose:
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seem鈥檇 it winter still, and, you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.鈥�
While living we just play with shadows鈥� And the play of shadows is all around鈥�
What is the meaning of life? That was all 鈥� a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one. This, that, and the other鈥�
The living is hard, darkness falls but straight ahead there is a lighthouse and it keeps beckoning.
February 11, 2020
1 to 1.5 stars
I had to go look at some other reviews before I wrote this. I can honestly say that I am shocked to see so many 4 and 5 star reviews. That does not mean I think those reviews are incorrect, I am just surprised at how many people connected with this book in a very positive way. I will hang out in the cellar of the 1 and 2 star reviews, because in this case, those are my people!
I always want to try new and interesting books from a variety of genres. Sometimes I find some big, positive surprises, other times I find books I struggle to finish. In this case, it was a struggle. I read this book as part of my Completist Book Club as this book is featured on Time鈥檚 All Time Best 100 Novels list. And, since I am seeing lots of passionate 5-star reviews, many agree with this assessment for To The Lighthouse. And, with that in mind, if you have a passion for the classic must-reads you may enjoy this one. However, I enjoy many, many, classic must-reads so that may not be the best criteria to use.
Within minutes of starting this book, I was confused. I reread the beginning a few times and it still was not clicking. Over the course of the book, I reread several sections to try and connect to the writing and pull something from the story. I also read an online summary of every chapter TWICE! Often, after reading a summary section, I would say to myself 鈥淒id I really just read and reread sections of this book!? Nothing in that summary sounded familiar!鈥� And, when I got to the end of the summary I figured it would clarify for me the whole point, but it really didn鈥檛. I know the book is about life, death, and relationships and I get the impression it is somewhat dark. But, after all that, I think I would have taken more away from it all, but I鈥檝e got nothing.
I will say that the one silver lining about it that kept me interested in it is that one of the main characters is named Minta. I have a friend with the same name and always thought it was an unusual name that her parents made up. But, when I asked her, not only did her parents not make up the name, they didn鈥檛 get it from this book, either! So, just hearing her name frequently as the book went along kept me somewhat engaged.
So, yeah . . . this book is a BIG no for me. It is very obviously a masterpiece for some, and maybe it will be for you. But after the effort I put into it and still feeling nothing but nothing, I cannot join the masterpiece crowd.
And . . . I guess I鈥檓 afraid of Virginia Woolf!
I had to go look at some other reviews before I wrote this. I can honestly say that I am shocked to see so many 4 and 5 star reviews. That does not mean I think those reviews are incorrect, I am just surprised at how many people connected with this book in a very positive way. I will hang out in the cellar of the 1 and 2 star reviews, because in this case, those are my people!
I always want to try new and interesting books from a variety of genres. Sometimes I find some big, positive surprises, other times I find books I struggle to finish. In this case, it was a struggle. I read this book as part of my Completist Book Club as this book is featured on Time鈥檚 All Time Best 100 Novels list. And, since I am seeing lots of passionate 5-star reviews, many agree with this assessment for To The Lighthouse. And, with that in mind, if you have a passion for the classic must-reads you may enjoy this one. However, I enjoy many, many, classic must-reads so that may not be the best criteria to use.
Within minutes of starting this book, I was confused. I reread the beginning a few times and it still was not clicking. Over the course of the book, I reread several sections to try and connect to the writing and pull something from the story. I also read an online summary of every chapter TWICE! Often, after reading a summary section, I would say to myself 鈥淒id I really just read and reread sections of this book!? Nothing in that summary sounded familiar!鈥� And, when I got to the end of the summary I figured it would clarify for me the whole point, but it really didn鈥檛. I know the book is about life, death, and relationships and I get the impression it is somewhat dark. But, after all that, I think I would have taken more away from it all, but I鈥檝e got nothing.
I will say that the one silver lining about it that kept me interested in it is that one of the main characters is named Minta. I have a friend with the same name and always thought it was an unusual name that her parents made up. But, when I asked her, not only did her parents not make up the name, they didn鈥檛 get it from this book, either! So, just hearing her name frequently as the book went along kept me somewhat engaged.
So, yeah . . . this book is a BIG no for me. It is very obviously a masterpiece for some, and maybe it will be for you. But after the effort I put into it and still feeling nothing but nothing, I cannot join the masterpiece crowd.
And . . . I guess I鈥檓 afraid of Virginia Woolf!
November 10, 2023
"What is the meaning of life? That was all - a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one."
sometimes i just want my review of a book to be a quote from that book.
this is one of those times.
this is a slow and beautiful book that forces you to sit with it, and that's a good thing. it deserves to be savored.
imagining skipping over a paragraph like that.
bottom line: well golly.
-----------------
pre-review
who's afraid of [reading this book because you feel like you're going to love it and you're not equipped to deal with disappointment]
clear ur sh*t book 42
quest 20: a book with water themes
sometimes i just want my review of a book to be a quote from that book.
this is one of those times.
this is a slow and beautiful book that forces you to sit with it, and that's a good thing. it deserves to be savored.
imagining skipping over a paragraph like that.
bottom line: well golly.
-----------------
pre-review
who's afraid of [reading this book because you feel like you're going to love it and you're not equipped to deal with disappointment]
clear ur sh*t book 42
quest 20: a book with water themes
May 2, 2020
When I first read this novel, I was like young James Ramsay, eagerly hoping to get To The Lighthouse.
Grown-ups, literary experts that is, had sent just as mixed messages as Mr and Mrs Ramsay to me, and I hoped so much for the adventure of an iconic reading experience that it didn't happen. I could acknowledge all the rational reasons for calling it a masterpiece, but it did not cause me to even raise an eyebrow. I was a modern young woman, what did I have to do with the subtext of a patriarchal family structure? What did I have to do with the self-doubt of a female artist told by an idiot that women can't write, can't paint... Why would such a thing even stick in my head? It didn't. Not back then.
And then time passed.
Life happened. I learned about families. About attention-seeking egos who dominate an environment so totally that any creative act stops automatically. I learned about the disruption that is a mother's natural state of being. How can anyone paint or write if there are no two consecutive moments without interruption?
I learned to long for the lighthouse without knowing it.
And then, I had another go at reading it, quite by accident, because I had spare time in a boring place and a copy of the book happened to be on the table.
It hit me like the flash of a lightning.
This is a novel that you have to grow into, but when you do, it shines brightly in the dark waters and soothes the nerves of a grown-up woman who has unfortunately learned what it means to hear the echo "can't write, can't paint", who has learned to feel the presence of patriarchal attention and who has learned to know its effect on the surrounding.
It soothes the nerves of a woman who feels the pressure to "be nice"...
Powerful Lily Briscoe sums it up in the end:
"His immense self-pity, his demand for sympathy poured and spread itself in pools at their feet, and all she did, miserable sinner that she was, was to draw her skirts a little closer round her ankles, lest she should get wet."
It's about focusing on moving the tree to the middle of the painting. It's about creating one's own life regardless of whether it ends up not being important to anyone but oneself. It's about daring not to "be nice".
It's not about reaching the Lighthouse. It's about allowing oneself to see it shine in the distance.
Grown-ups, literary experts that is, had sent just as mixed messages as Mr and Mrs Ramsay to me, and I hoped so much for the adventure of an iconic reading experience that it didn't happen. I could acknowledge all the rational reasons for calling it a masterpiece, but it did not cause me to even raise an eyebrow. I was a modern young woman, what did I have to do with the subtext of a patriarchal family structure? What did I have to do with the self-doubt of a female artist told by an idiot that women can't write, can't paint... Why would such a thing even stick in my head? It didn't. Not back then.
And then time passed.
Life happened. I learned about families. About attention-seeking egos who dominate an environment so totally that any creative act stops automatically. I learned about the disruption that is a mother's natural state of being. How can anyone paint or write if there are no two consecutive moments without interruption?
I learned to long for the lighthouse without knowing it.
And then, I had another go at reading it, quite by accident, because I had spare time in a boring place and a copy of the book happened to be on the table.
It hit me like the flash of a lightning.
This is a novel that you have to grow into, but when you do, it shines brightly in the dark waters and soothes the nerves of a grown-up woman who has unfortunately learned what it means to hear the echo "can't write, can't paint", who has learned to feel the presence of patriarchal attention and who has learned to know its effect on the surrounding.
It soothes the nerves of a woman who feels the pressure to "be nice"...
Powerful Lily Briscoe sums it up in the end:
"His immense self-pity, his demand for sympathy poured and spread itself in pools at their feet, and all she did, miserable sinner that she was, was to draw her skirts a little closer round her ankles, lest she should get wet."
It's about focusing on moving the tree to the middle of the painting. It's about creating one's own life regardless of whether it ends up not being important to anyone but oneself. It's about daring not to "be nice".
It's not about reaching the Lighthouse. It's about allowing oneself to see it shine in the distance.
March 8, 2025
鈥淗e smiled the most exquisite smile, veiled by memory, tinged by dreams.鈥�
~~
was my first exposure to Virginia Woolf. I was working on a production of 's & I thought I should read something by Woolf. For no particular reason I chose . I remember enjoying it, being fascinated by it, but not really understanding what I'd read.
How could I have missed the brilliance and artistry of on my first read? How could I have been so blind? Sadly, I could not see how Woolf shows us that time changes everything ~~ and more importantly ~~ changes nothing. I had read Dickens, Twain, the Brontes, Austen, Porter, Dostoyevsky, & reveled in their insights on the human condition. Why then was I so blind to what Woolf had to offer? As I look back on this first reading, I was probably too young & obviously too stupid to comprehend .
Years later I became a huge fan of Woolf. In fact, I've been on Woolf binge the last two years, but never found my way back to .
Fast forward to 2019. My friend, Sr膽an, was reading ; his excitement was contagious, so I decided to revisit . I'm so glad I did. Revisiting this book was a revelation.
"She had known happiness, exquisite happiness, intense happiness, and it silvered the rough waves a little more brightly, as daylight faded, and the blue went out of the sea and it rolled in waves of pure lemon which curved and swelled and broke upon the beach and the ecstasy burst in her eyes and waves of pure delight raced over at the floor of her mind and she felt, It is enough! It is enough!"
What words would best describe ~~ exquisite, impressionistic, simple and most of all luminous. The prose cradles and rocks the reader just like the sea that surrounds the Ramsay family.
Woolf saw as a requiem to her parents, and her childhood. The themes here are marriage, childhood, parentage, reminiscence and grief ~~ all themes familiar to Woolf.
is a portrait of a family's holiday in the years before and after World War I. Mrs. Ramsay is at the center of this world ~~ a wife, mother to eight children, the hostess to the guests who fill the holiday home in the Hebrides ~~ where an expedition to the lighthouse may or may not happen. Mrs. Ramsay's spirit permeates every page of ~~ no easy feat considering the events that take place.
Again, Woolf uses her stream of consciousness and multiple perspectives technique. This allows the reader a feeling of living in the pages of , creating a very intimate experience for the reader.
is divided into three sections, The Window, Time Passes, and The Lighthouse. The first section portrays the tensions of her family's holiday ~~ the Ramsays have been joined by a group of friends and colleagues. A planned journey to the fabled lighthouse lies at the center of section one.
We also meet painter Lily Briscoe early in the first section. She is attempting to paint a picture of Mrs Ramsay and James, but she is unsure of herself as an artist, her confidence is shaken by Charles Tansley as he declares that women cannot write and cannot paint. Lily ~~ or should we say Virginia ~~ will hear this thought echoing in her mind throughout the rest of her life.
The second section is brilliant. Time indeed does pass ~~ things have changed. We learn what has happened to the Ramsay family over the past 10 years. The house stands empty, abandoned by the family these past 10 years for reasons you must discover on your own. What fascinates me most about Time Passes is how the house becomes a character in its own right ~~ the house is a living thing.
In the final section of To The Lighthouse, members of the Ramsay family and their guests from ten years earlier return to the house ~~ another trip to the lighthouse is proposed. We see the changes ~~ and more importantly the lack of change ~~ that has taken place in the Ramsay family. It is a fascinating view of both the Ramsay family and Lily Briscoe.
I find my review to be wanting. This review ~~ none of our reviews ~~ can sum up what an extraordinary experience reading is.
is a captivating, fascinating, thought-provoking novel that sparks endless introspection and reflection with its many intriguing themes. Thank you Sr膽an for helping me to rediscover such a brilliant piece of writing.
~~
was my first exposure to Virginia Woolf. I was working on a production of 's & I thought I should read something by Woolf. For no particular reason I chose . I remember enjoying it, being fascinated by it, but not really understanding what I'd read.
How could I have missed the brilliance and artistry of on my first read? How could I have been so blind? Sadly, I could not see how Woolf shows us that time changes everything ~~ and more importantly ~~ changes nothing. I had read Dickens, Twain, the Brontes, Austen, Porter, Dostoyevsky, & reveled in their insights on the human condition. Why then was I so blind to what Woolf had to offer? As I look back on this first reading, I was probably too young & obviously too stupid to comprehend .
Years later I became a huge fan of Woolf. In fact, I've been on Woolf binge the last two years, but never found my way back to .
Fast forward to 2019. My friend, Sr膽an, was reading ; his excitement was contagious, so I decided to revisit . I'm so glad I did. Revisiting this book was a revelation.
"She had known happiness, exquisite happiness, intense happiness, and it silvered the rough waves a little more brightly, as daylight faded, and the blue went out of the sea and it rolled in waves of pure lemon which curved and swelled and broke upon the beach and the ecstasy burst in her eyes and waves of pure delight raced over at the floor of her mind and she felt, It is enough! It is enough!"
What words would best describe ~~ exquisite, impressionistic, simple and most of all luminous. The prose cradles and rocks the reader just like the sea that surrounds the Ramsay family.
Woolf saw as a requiem to her parents, and her childhood. The themes here are marriage, childhood, parentage, reminiscence and grief ~~ all themes familiar to Woolf.
is a portrait of a family's holiday in the years before and after World War I. Mrs. Ramsay is at the center of this world ~~ a wife, mother to eight children, the hostess to the guests who fill the holiday home in the Hebrides ~~ where an expedition to the lighthouse may or may not happen. Mrs. Ramsay's spirit permeates every page of ~~ no easy feat considering the events that take place.
Again, Woolf uses her stream of consciousness and multiple perspectives technique. This allows the reader a feeling of living in the pages of , creating a very intimate experience for the reader.
is divided into three sections, The Window, Time Passes, and The Lighthouse. The first section portrays the tensions of her family's holiday ~~ the Ramsays have been joined by a group of friends and colleagues. A planned journey to the fabled lighthouse lies at the center of section one.
We also meet painter Lily Briscoe early in the first section. She is attempting to paint a picture of Mrs Ramsay and James, but she is unsure of herself as an artist, her confidence is shaken by Charles Tansley as he declares that women cannot write and cannot paint. Lily ~~ or should we say Virginia ~~ will hear this thought echoing in her mind throughout the rest of her life.
The second section is brilliant. Time indeed does pass ~~ things have changed. We learn what has happened to the Ramsay family over the past 10 years. The house stands empty, abandoned by the family these past 10 years for reasons you must discover on your own. What fascinates me most about Time Passes is how the house becomes a character in its own right ~~ the house is a living thing.
In the final section of To The Lighthouse, members of the Ramsay family and their guests from ten years earlier return to the house ~~ another trip to the lighthouse is proposed. We see the changes ~~ and more importantly the lack of change ~~ that has taken place in the Ramsay family. It is a fascinating view of both the Ramsay family and Lily Briscoe.
I find my review to be wanting. This review ~~ none of our reviews ~~ can sum up what an extraordinary experience reading is.
is a captivating, fascinating, thought-provoking novel that sparks endless introspection and reflection with its many intriguing themes. Thank you Sr膽an for helping me to rediscover such a brilliant piece of writing.
September 13, 2021
(Book 686 from 1001 books) - To The Lighthouse, Virginia Woolf
To the Lighthouse is a 1927 novel by Virginia Woolf. The novel centres on the Ramsays and their visits to the Isle of Skye in Scotland between 1910 and 1920.
Part I: The Window, The novel is set in the Ramsays' summer home in the Hebrides, on the Isle of Skye. The section begins with Mrs Ramsay assuring her son James that they should be able to visit the lighthouse on the next day. This prediction is denied by Mr Ramsay, who voices his certainty that the weather will not be clear, an opinion that forces a certain tension between Mr and Mrs Ramsay, and also between Mr Ramsay and James. This particular incident is referred to on various occasions throughout the section, especially in the context of Mr and Mrs Ramsay's relationship. ...
Part II: Time Passes, The second section "Time passes" gives a sense of time passing, absence, and death. Ten years pass, during which the First World War begins and ends. Mrs Ramsay dies, as do two of her children 鈥� Prue dies from complications of childbirth, and Andrew is killed in the war. Mr Ramsay is left adrift without his wife to praise and comfort him during his bouts of fear and anguish regarding the longevity of his philosophical work. This section is told from an omniscient point of view and occasionally from Mrs. McNab's point of view. Mrs. McNab worked in the Ramsay's house since the beginning, and thus provides a clear view of how things have changed in the time the summer house has been unoccupied.
Part III: The Lighthous, In the final section, "The Lighthouse", some of the remaining Ramsays and other guests return to their summer home ten years after the events of Part I. Mr Ramsay finally plans on taking the long-delayed trip to the lighthouse with daughter Cam(illa) and son James (the remaining Ramsay children are virtually unmentioned in the final section). The trip almost does not happen, as the children are not ready, but they eventually set off. As they travel, the children are silent in protest at their father for forcing them to come along. However, James keeps the sailing boat steady and rather than receiving the harsh words he has come to expect from his father, he hears praise, providing a rare moment of empathy between father and son; Cam's attitude towards her father changes also, from resentment to eventual admiration. ...
鬲丕乇蹖禺 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 禺賵丕賳卮: 賲丕賴 賲丕乇爻 爻丕賱 2004賲蹖賱丕丿蹖
毓賳賵丕賳: 亘賴 爻賵蹖 賮丕賳賵爻 丿乇蹖丕蹖蹖貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 賵蹖乇噩蹖賳蹖丕 賵賵賱賮貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 氐丕賱丨 丨爻蹖賳蹖貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳蹖賱賵賮乇貙 1370貨 丿乇 237氐貨 卮丕亘讴 9644481992貨 趩丕倬 丿賵賲 1382貨 趩丕倬 爻賵賲 1383貨 趩丕倬 趩賴丕乇賲 1385貨 趩丕倬 倬賳噩賲 1387貨 趩丕倬 卮卮賲 1392貨 趩丕倬 賴賮鬲賲 1395貨 卮丕亘讴 9789644481994貨
丿乇 240氐貨 賲賵囟賵毓 丿丕爻鬲丕賳賴丕蹖 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏丕賳 亘乇蹖鬲丕賳蹖丕 - 爻丿賴 20賲
毓賳賵丕賳: 亘賴 爻賵蹖 賮丕賳賵爻 丿乇蹖丕蹖蹖貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 賵蹖乇噩蹖賳蹖丕 賵賵賱賮貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 爻蹖賱賵蹖丕 亘噩丕賳蹖丕賳貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 亘賴 賳诏丕乇貙 1370貨 丿乇 358 氐貨
毓賳賵丕賳: 亘賴 爻賵蹖 賮丕賳賵爻 丿乇蹖丕蹖蹖貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 賵蹖乇噩蹖賳蹖丕 賵賵賱賮貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 禺噩爻鬲賴 讴蹖賴丕賳貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳诏丕賴貙 1387貨 丿乇 261氐貨 卮丕亘讴 9789643514648貨 趩丕倬 爻賵賲 1392貨
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鬲丕乇蹖禺 亘賴賳诏丕賲 乇爻丕賳蹖 27/07/1399賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 21/06/1400賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 丕. 卮乇亘蹖丕賳蹖
To the Lighthouse is a 1927 novel by Virginia Woolf. The novel centres on the Ramsays and their visits to the Isle of Skye in Scotland between 1910 and 1920.
Part I: The Window, The novel is set in the Ramsays' summer home in the Hebrides, on the Isle of Skye. The section begins with Mrs Ramsay assuring her son James that they should be able to visit the lighthouse on the next day. This prediction is denied by Mr Ramsay, who voices his certainty that the weather will not be clear, an opinion that forces a certain tension between Mr and Mrs Ramsay, and also between Mr Ramsay and James. This particular incident is referred to on various occasions throughout the section, especially in the context of Mr and Mrs Ramsay's relationship. ...
Part II: Time Passes, The second section "Time passes" gives a sense of time passing, absence, and death. Ten years pass, during which the First World War begins and ends. Mrs Ramsay dies, as do two of her children 鈥� Prue dies from complications of childbirth, and Andrew is killed in the war. Mr Ramsay is left adrift without his wife to praise and comfort him during his bouts of fear and anguish regarding the longevity of his philosophical work. This section is told from an omniscient point of view and occasionally from Mrs. McNab's point of view. Mrs. McNab worked in the Ramsay's house since the beginning, and thus provides a clear view of how things have changed in the time the summer house has been unoccupied.
Part III: The Lighthous, In the final section, "The Lighthouse", some of the remaining Ramsays and other guests return to their summer home ten years after the events of Part I. Mr Ramsay finally plans on taking the long-delayed trip to the lighthouse with daughter Cam(illa) and son James (the remaining Ramsay children are virtually unmentioned in the final section). The trip almost does not happen, as the children are not ready, but they eventually set off. As they travel, the children are silent in protest at their father for forcing them to come along. However, James keeps the sailing boat steady and rather than receiving the harsh words he has come to expect from his father, he hears praise, providing a rare moment of empathy between father and son; Cam's attitude towards her father changes also, from resentment to eventual admiration. ...
鬲丕乇蹖禺 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 禺賵丕賳卮: 賲丕賴 賲丕乇爻 爻丕賱 2004賲蹖賱丕丿蹖
毓賳賵丕賳: 亘賴 爻賵蹖 賮丕賳賵爻 丿乇蹖丕蹖蹖貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 賵蹖乇噩蹖賳蹖丕 賵賵賱賮貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 氐丕賱丨 丨爻蹖賳蹖貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳蹖賱賵賮乇貙 1370貨 丿乇 237氐貨 卮丕亘讴 9644481992貨 趩丕倬 丿賵賲 1382貨 趩丕倬 爻賵賲 1383貨 趩丕倬 趩賴丕乇賲 1385貨 趩丕倬 倬賳噩賲 1387貨 趩丕倬 卮卮賲 1392貨 趩丕倬 賴賮鬲賲 1395貨 卮丕亘讴 9789644481994貨
丿乇 240氐貨 賲賵囟賵毓 丿丕爻鬲丕賳賴丕蹖 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏丕賳 亘乇蹖鬲丕賳蹖丕 - 爻丿賴 20賲
毓賳賵丕賳: 亘賴 爻賵蹖 賮丕賳賵爻 丿乇蹖丕蹖蹖貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 賵蹖乇噩蹖賳蹖丕 賵賵賱賮貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 爻蹖賱賵蹖丕 亘噩丕賳蹖丕賳貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 亘賴 賳诏丕乇貙 1370貨 丿乇 358 氐貨
毓賳賵丕賳: 亘賴 爻賵蹖 賮丕賳賵爻 丿乇蹖丕蹖蹖貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 賵蹖乇噩蹖賳蹖丕 賵賵賱賮貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 禺噩爻鬲賴 讴蹖賴丕賳貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳诏丕賴貙 1387貨 丿乇 261氐貨 卮丕亘讴 9789643514648貨 趩丕倬 爻賵賲 1392貨
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亘禺卮 賳禺爻鬲 讴賴 亘蹖卮鬲乇蹖賳 丨噩賲 讴鬲丕亘 乇丕 賴賲 丿乇 亘乇 賲蹖鈥屭屫必� 芦倬賳噩乇賴禄 賳丕賲 丿丕乇丿貨 倬賳噩乇賴 賲毓丕賳蹖 诏賵賳丕诏賵賳蹖 賲蹖鈥屫堌з嗀� 丿丕卮鬲賴 亘丕卮丿貨 卮丕蹖丿 倬賳噩乇賴鈥� 丕蹖 亘乇丕蹖 賲丕 亘乇丕蹖 卮賳丕禺鬲 賯賴乇賲丕賳丕賳 丿丕爻鬲丕賳貙 蹖丕 卮丕蹖丿 賴賲 倬賳噩乇賴鈥� 丕蹖 亘乇丕蹖 賯賴乇賲丕賳丕賳 丿丕爻鬲丕賳貙 鬲丕 丕夭 丌賳 亘賴 賮丕賳賵爻 丿乇蹖丕蹖蹖 亘乇爻賳丿貙 賵 卮丕蹖丿 禺賵丿 丿丕爻鬲丕賳貙 讴賴 亘丕 乇丕賵蹖鈥屬囏й� 诏賵賳丕诏賵賳蹖貙 賵 亘賴 毓亘丕乇鬲蹖 丿蹖诏乇 丕夭 倬賳噩乇賴鈥� 賴丕蹖 诏賵賳丕诏賵賳 乇賵丕蹖鬲 賲蹖鈥屫促堌� 丿乇 丕蹖賳 亘禺卮貙 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴 蹖 丿丕爻鬲丕賳貙 蹖讴 乇賵夭 丕夭 夭賳丿诏蹖 禺丕賳賵丕丿賴 芦乇賲夭蹖禄 乇丕貙 賴賲乇丕賴 亘丕 賲賴賲丕賳丕賳 丌賳丕賳貙 丕夭 夭亘丕賳 禺賵丿卮丕賳 乇賵丕蹖鬲 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀� 丕蹖賳 乇賵丕蹖鬲 乇丕賵蹖丕賳蹖 丿丕乇丿貙 賵 賴賲蹖賳 蹖讴蹖 丕夭 亘乇噩爻鬲賴鈥� 鬲乇蹖賳 賳讴丕鬲 乇賲丕賳 丕爻鬲貙 讴賴 丕夭 夭亘丕賳 乇丕賵蹖鈥屬囏й� 诏賵賳丕诏賵賳 乇賵丕蹖鬲 賲蹖鈥屫促堌� 夭賳丿诏蹖 蹖讴丕蹖讴 卮禺氐蹖鬲鈥屬囏й� 丿丕爻鬲丕賳貙 亘丕 鬲賮氐蹖賱蹖 亘丕賵乇 賳讴乇丿賳蹖貙 丕夭 夭亘丕賳 禺賵丿卮丕賳 亘蹖丕賳 賲蹖鈥屫促堌� 夭賳丿诏蹖貙 賵 亘蹖丕賳 賴賲賴 蹖 丌賳鈥屬囏ж� 丿乇 禺丕賳賲 芦乇賲夭蹖禄 亘賴 丕卮鬲乇丕讴 賲蹖鈥屫必迟嗀� 讴賴 丨賱賯賴 蹖 倬蹖賵賳丿 賴賲賴 蹖 賯賴乇賲丕賳丕賳 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 丕爻鬲貨
亘禺卮 丿賵賲 讴鬲丕亘: 芦夭賲丕賳 賲蹖鈥屭柏必� 賳丕賲 丿丕乇丿貙 乇賵丕蹖鬲蹖 鬲賳丿貙 丕夭 爻乇賳賵卮鬲 賯賴乇賲丕賳丕賳 丿丕爻鬲丕賳貙 胤蹖 丿賴 爻丕賱 丌蹖賳丿賴 丕爻鬲貙 賵 丕蹖賳讴賴 禺丕賳賲 芦乇賲夭蹖禄 賲蹖鈥屬呟屫必� 禺丕賳賵丕丿賴 蹖 芦乇賲夭蹖禄 丕夭 賴賲 賲蹖鈥屬矩ж簇� 賵 丿蹖诏乇 乇禺丿丕丿賴丕蹖 讴賵趩讴 賵 亘夭乇诏蹖 讴賴 乇禺 賲蹖鈥屫囐嗀�
亘禺卮 爻賵賲 賵 倬丕蹖丕賳蹖 丿丕爻鬲丕賳貙 亘丕 毓賳賵丕賳 芦賮丕賳賵爻 丿乇蹖丕蹖蹖禄貙 亘乇賲蹖诏乇丿丿 亘賴 丕蹖賳讴賴貙 丿乇 睾蹖丕亘 禺丕賳賲 芦乇賲夭蹖禄貙 賯賴乇賲丕賳丕賳 丿丕爻鬲丕賳貙 丿賵亘丕乇賴 亘賴 禺丕賳賴 蹖 賯丿蹖賲蹖 亘乇賲蹖诏乇丿賳丿貙 丌賯丕蹖 芦乇賲夭蹖禄 賵 倬爻乇賴丕蹖卮 亘賴 賮丕賳賵爻 丿乇蹖丕蹖蹖 賲蹖鈥屫辟堎嗀� 芦賱蹖 賱蹖 亘乇蹖爻讴賵禄貙 賳賯丕卮蹖鈥� 丕卮 乇丕 丿乇 丨丕賱鬲蹖 讴賴 亘賴 卮賴賵丿 乇爻蹖丿賴 丕爻鬲貙 讴丕賲賱 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀� 賵 芦讴丕乇賲丕蹖讴賱禄 亘賴 卮賴乇鬲 丿乇 卮丕毓乇蹖 丿爻鬲 賲蹖鈥屰屫жㄘ� 賴賲賴 蹖 丌賳鈥屬囏� 乇丕賴 禺賵蹖卮 乇丕 倬蹖丿丕 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁嗀� 賵 亘賴 卮賳丕禺鬲 賲蹖鈥屫必迟嗀� 丿乇 賵丕賯毓 禺丕賳賲 芦乇賲夭蹖禄 讴賴 賵丕爻胤賴 蹖 卮賳丕禺鬲 丌賳鈥屬囏ж� 丕夭 夭賳丿诏蹖 亘賵丿 賳蹖夭貙 亘賴 丌乇夭賵蹖 禺賵蹖卮 賲蹖鈥屫必池�
鬲丕乇蹖禺 亘賴賳诏丕賲 乇爻丕賳蹖 27/07/1399賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 21/06/1400賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 丕. 卮乇亘蹖丕賳蹖
March 28, 2023
This is one of those rare books that gives you totally different reading experiences when you read it in different phases of your life. Mrs. Ramsay and her family's story is wonderfully depicted through the beauty of surrealism and the depth of philosophy. Only a writer on the top of their craft can create something so magnificent from the simple things in life like a family holiday. The character building, precise perspective-shifting are all done brilliantly. Ms. Woolf's views on men, women, friendship, love, marriage, children, motherhood, and the poetry of life will all make you think deeply about the hidden complexities of this world. Her use of stream of consciousness as a narrative device is impeccable. This book can be incontrovertibly called a true masterpiece.
鈥斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌�
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"She felt... how life, from being made up of little separate incidents which one lived one by one, became curled and whole like a wave which bore one up with it and threw one down with it, there, with a dash on the beach."
鈥斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌�
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October 19, 2018
Virginia Woolf鈥檚 To The Lighthouse is an innovative piece of writing that left me feeling empty, neither happy nor sad, just blank and detached from the book itself.
Let me explain: for me the writing just didn鈥檛 covey anything of much importance. Sure, you could talk about Woolf鈥檚 innovative style and how important this book is in the formation of English literature as we know it today; it clearly has impacted the novel as an art form. And it adheres to Woolf鈥檚 arguments in her essay titled Modern Fiction. It鈥檚 about realism; it鈥檚 about capturing a multitude of perspectives and voices regarding the complexities of perception and human experiences. It acts to show how different people think in very different ways. And that鈥檚 it.
The plot is unimportant here so I鈥檓 not going to talk about that or criticise it. Woolf was purposely trying to break narrative conventions. She didn鈥檛 want a plot. She didn鈥檛 need one. Though I鈥檓 left with a feeling of emptiness after reading it. What do I take away from the book? What鈥檚 the overall point of it? Surely there鈥檚 more to it than showing that different people think, feel and express themselves in a way specifically personal to them? I鈥檓 just left with a puzzling feeling that makes me form a question that lingers over my mind whenever I think about this book: was that really it Woolf, don鈥檛 you have a little more to say?
The success of the writing resides with its subtlety. Woolf says so much without saying anything at all. Her characters are revealed through small gestures that reveal their internal world. Simple things like an agreement about the weather bespeaks the love between two characters. Her narration is minimalistic or, I should say, the narrator describes without comment and the rest is up to the reader. And, as ever, she is fantastic at portraying images and moments in time. The scenes she creates are some of the most real and true I鈥檝e ever read.
There are thoughts flying around everywhere. Woolf shifts beautifully from character to character, from voice to voice, as the writing forms a symphony on the mundanity of life. Some of the characters are also quite psychologically complex (Mr Ramsey) and there鈥檚 many layers within the story telling that bring the narrative together.
But, again, I鈥檓 not entirely sure what to take away from it all. I shall leave things here. I enjoyed it, but I could never love it.
Let me explain: for me the writing just didn鈥檛 covey anything of much importance. Sure, you could talk about Woolf鈥檚 innovative style and how important this book is in the formation of English literature as we know it today; it clearly has impacted the novel as an art form. And it adheres to Woolf鈥檚 arguments in her essay titled Modern Fiction. It鈥檚 about realism; it鈥檚 about capturing a multitude of perspectives and voices regarding the complexities of perception and human experiences. It acts to show how different people think in very different ways. And that鈥檚 it.
The plot is unimportant here so I鈥檓 not going to talk about that or criticise it. Woolf was purposely trying to break narrative conventions. She didn鈥檛 want a plot. She didn鈥檛 need one. Though I鈥檓 left with a feeling of emptiness after reading it. What do I take away from the book? What鈥檚 the overall point of it? Surely there鈥檚 more to it than showing that different people think, feel and express themselves in a way specifically personal to them? I鈥檓 just left with a puzzling feeling that makes me form a question that lingers over my mind whenever I think about this book: was that really it Woolf, don鈥檛 you have a little more to say?
The success of the writing resides with its subtlety. Woolf says so much without saying anything at all. Her characters are revealed through small gestures that reveal their internal world. Simple things like an agreement about the weather bespeaks the love between two characters. Her narration is minimalistic or, I should say, the narrator describes without comment and the rest is up to the reader. And, as ever, she is fantastic at portraying images and moments in time. The scenes she creates are some of the most real and true I鈥檝e ever read.
There are thoughts flying around everywhere. Woolf shifts beautifully from character to character, from voice to voice, as the writing forms a symphony on the mundanity of life. Some of the characters are also quite psychologically complex (Mr Ramsey) and there鈥檚 many layers within the story telling that bring the narrative together.
But, again, I鈥檓 not entirely sure what to take away from it all. I shall leave things here. I enjoyed it, but I could never love it.
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February 6, 2021How many prejudices we carry through life, even when we think ourselves to be incapable of bias.
I avoided reading Virginia Woolf for a very long time, suspecting her and her privileged Bloomsbury friends of intellectual elitism and of believing themselves to somehow enshrine the essence of civilisation ( escaped this embargo fortunately).
When I came across Charles Tansley, the visiting working-class academic who can鈥檛 seem to fit in to the Ramseys鈥� elegantly shabby lifestyle in the early pages of , I immediately aligned myself with him. I'll be on your side, Charles, I thought, I wouldn't fit in with the Ramseys either.
But soon, like Tansley, I fell under the spell of the beautiful Mrs Ramsey, and under the spell of Woolf鈥檚 writing which is so unique and inventive that I am thrilled to have finally discovered it.
I picked this book up because I came across a claim that Woolf, having finished reading , felt that she could do better in a quarter the amount of pages. Since I鈥檇 recently finished Ulysses myself, I was curious about Woolf鈥檚 foolhardy challenge. I expected to find myself reading her characters鈥� fragmentary thoughts, realistically ordinary or eruditely obscure depending on the mood, just as in Ulysses. But no, Woolf avoids such bold naturalism by paraphrasing her characters鈥� thoughts into beautifully crafted, ultra refined sentences. This valuing of beauty over truth, form over content certainly makes the reader鈥檚 task a lot easier than in Ulysses, if less challenging, and allows the wonderful structure of this novel to stand out more clearly.
There are two distinct sections, both focussed on a trip to the lighthouse and they are separated and connected by a shorter section, a sort of corridor of years, which shows us the disintegration that nature and time work on everything and everyone. I found this symmetrical structure really satisfying, as the two longer sections mirror each other in so many ways and yet are inevitably very different, being separated by time itself.
As regards resemblances to Ulysses, Woolf begins with the word 鈥榶es鈥� and ends with 鈥榶es鈥� repeated in the last sentences but unlike Joyce, Woolf doesn鈥檛 take on a full day, only the final quarter of a day; she addresses the first quarter of a different day in the last section.
While Woolf avoids the challenge of 'stream of consciousness' writing in favour of reporting her character鈥檚 thoughts, she knits those thoughts into the action with great skill; the reader quickly adjusts to the style as well as to the frequent time shifts and to the occasional shifts in point of view. And while I value the stark realism which is found at times in Ulysses, there is also a lot of truth knitted into the beautiful shape of Woolf鈥檚 novel: there are valuable reflections on the challenges of relationships, particularly those of husbands and wives and parents and children; there are interesting musings on art and literature, poetry and philosophy; and there are very, very beautiful thoughts on death and dying.
This book will stay with me for a long time to come.
Review: August 2012.
Edit: May 2015: extracts I've just come across in describing Woolf's thoughts about the writing of 'To The Lighthouse': 1926: This is going to be fairly short; to have father's character done complete in it; and mother's; and St Ives; and childhood; and all the usual things I try to put in--life, death, etc. But the centre is father's character, sitting in a boat, reciting 'We perished, each alone', while he crushes a dying mackerel....The sea is to be heard all through it...But this theme may be sentimental; father and mother and child in the garden; the death; the sail to the Lighthouse. I think though that when I begin it I will enrich it in all sorts of ways; thicken it; give it branches--roots which I do not perceive now. It might contain all characters boiled down; and childhood; and then this impersonal thing, which I'm dared to do by my friends, the flight of time and the consequent break of unity in my design. That passage (I conceive the book in three parts. 1. at the drawing-room window; 2. seven years passed; 3. the voyage) interests me very much....I am now writing as fast and as freely as I have written my whole life..;I think this is the proof that I was on the right path; and that what fruit hangs in my soul is to be reached there....Yesterday I finished the first part and today begin the second. I cannot make it out--here is the most difficult abstract piece of writing--I have to give an empty house, no people's characters, the passage of time, all eyeless and featureless with nothing to cling to; will I rush at it, and at once scatter out two pages...The problem is how to bring Lily and Mr R together and make a combination of interest at the end. I am feathering about with various ideas. The last chapter which I begin tomorrow is in the Boat; I had meant to end with R climbing on to the rock. If so, what becomes of Lily and her picture? Should there be a final page about her and Carmichael looking at the picture and summing up R's character? In this case I lose the intensity of the moment. If this intervenes between R and the lighthouse, there's too much chop and change, I think. Could I do it in a parenthesis? So that on the sense of reading the two things at the same time?...The lyric portions of To the Lighthouse are collected in the 10-year lapse and don't interfere with the text so much as usual; I feel as if it fetched its circle pretty completely this time....And the last lap, in the boat, is hard, because the material is not so rich as it was with Lily on the lawn. I am forced to be more and more intense. I am making more use of symbolism, I observe, and I go in dread of 'sentimentality'. Is the whole theme open to the charge?
I avoided reading Virginia Woolf for a very long time, suspecting her and her privileged Bloomsbury friends of intellectual elitism and of believing themselves to somehow enshrine the essence of civilisation ( escaped this embargo fortunately).
When I came across Charles Tansley, the visiting working-class academic who can鈥檛 seem to fit in to the Ramseys鈥� elegantly shabby lifestyle in the early pages of , I immediately aligned myself with him. I'll be on your side, Charles, I thought, I wouldn't fit in with the Ramseys either.
But soon, like Tansley, I fell under the spell of the beautiful Mrs Ramsey, and under the spell of Woolf鈥檚 writing which is so unique and inventive that I am thrilled to have finally discovered it.
I picked this book up because I came across a claim that Woolf, having finished reading , felt that she could do better in a quarter the amount of pages. Since I鈥檇 recently finished Ulysses myself, I was curious about Woolf鈥檚 foolhardy challenge. I expected to find myself reading her characters鈥� fragmentary thoughts, realistically ordinary or eruditely obscure depending on the mood, just as in Ulysses. But no, Woolf avoids such bold naturalism by paraphrasing her characters鈥� thoughts into beautifully crafted, ultra refined sentences. This valuing of beauty over truth, form over content certainly makes the reader鈥檚 task a lot easier than in Ulysses, if less challenging, and allows the wonderful structure of this novel to stand out more clearly.
There are two distinct sections, both focussed on a trip to the lighthouse and they are separated and connected by a shorter section, a sort of corridor of years, which shows us the disintegration that nature and time work on everything and everyone. I found this symmetrical structure really satisfying, as the two longer sections mirror each other in so many ways and yet are inevitably very different, being separated by time itself.
As regards resemblances to Ulysses, Woolf begins with the word 鈥榶es鈥� and ends with 鈥榶es鈥� repeated in the last sentences but unlike Joyce, Woolf doesn鈥檛 take on a full day, only the final quarter of a day; she addresses the first quarter of a different day in the last section.
While Woolf avoids the challenge of 'stream of consciousness' writing in favour of reporting her character鈥檚 thoughts, she knits those thoughts into the action with great skill; the reader quickly adjusts to the style as well as to the frequent time shifts and to the occasional shifts in point of view. And while I value the stark realism which is found at times in Ulysses, there is also a lot of truth knitted into the beautiful shape of Woolf鈥檚 novel: there are valuable reflections on the challenges of relationships, particularly those of husbands and wives and parents and children; there are interesting musings on art and literature, poetry and philosophy; and there are very, very beautiful thoughts on death and dying.
This book will stay with me for a long time to come.
Review: August 2012.
Edit: May 2015: extracts I've just come across in describing Woolf's thoughts about the writing of 'To The Lighthouse': 1926: This is going to be fairly short; to have father's character done complete in it; and mother's; and St Ives; and childhood; and all the usual things I try to put in--life, death, etc. But the centre is father's character, sitting in a boat, reciting 'We perished, each alone', while he crushes a dying mackerel....The sea is to be heard all through it...But this theme may be sentimental; father and mother and child in the garden; the death; the sail to the Lighthouse. I think though that when I begin it I will enrich it in all sorts of ways; thicken it; give it branches--roots which I do not perceive now. It might contain all characters boiled down; and childhood; and then this impersonal thing, which I'm dared to do by my friends, the flight of time and the consequent break of unity in my design. That passage (I conceive the book in three parts. 1. at the drawing-room window; 2. seven years passed; 3. the voyage) interests me very much....I am now writing as fast and as freely as I have written my whole life..;I think this is the proof that I was on the right path; and that what fruit hangs in my soul is to be reached there....Yesterday I finished the first part and today begin the second. I cannot make it out--here is the most difficult abstract piece of writing--I have to give an empty house, no people's characters, the passage of time, all eyeless and featureless with nothing to cling to; will I rush at it, and at once scatter out two pages...The problem is how to bring Lily and Mr R together and make a combination of interest at the end. I am feathering about with various ideas. The last chapter which I begin tomorrow is in the Boat; I had meant to end with R climbing on to the rock. If so, what becomes of Lily and her picture? Should there be a final page about her and Carmichael looking at the picture and summing up R's character? In this case I lose the intensity of the moment. If this intervenes between R and the lighthouse, there's too much chop and change, I think. Could I do it in a parenthesis? So that on the sense of reading the two things at the same time?...The lyric portions of To the Lighthouse are collected in the 10-year lapse and don't interfere with the text so much as usual; I feel as if it fetched its circle pretty completely this time....And the last lap, in the boat, is hard, because the material is not so rich as it was with Lily on the lawn. I am forced to be more and more intense. I am making more use of symbolism, I observe, and I go in dread of 'sentimentality'. Is the whole theme open to the charge?
June 27, 2017
Virginia Woolf here gives us possibly the best ever description of her own writing method, especially fitting for this novel and The Waves 鈥� 鈥淏eautiful and bright it should be on the surface, feathery and evanescent, one colour melting into another like the colours on a butterfly's wing; but beneath the fabric must be clamped together with bolts of iron. It was to be a thing you could ruffle with your breath; and a thing you could not dislodge with a team of horses.鈥�
Perhaps the first thing to say about To the Lighthouse is what an utterly brilliant depiction it is of a seaside holiday home, especially as experienced through the eyes of a child. It brought vividly to life so many of my own memories of sleeping in a room where the sound of the waves came in through the window at night and sand crunches underfoot everywhere. Every moment in To the Lighthouse is a defining moment, a moment in which identity is forged, memory is made, knowledge is gathered; every moment creates a ghost of itself which will survive the ravages of time. The seaside holiday home is among the most treasured historical sites for the archaeologist in us all, our Mycenae, our Troy, a place from which we can trace the rudiments of identity.
On the surface To the Lighthouse is about two trips to a lighthouse, one aborted, the other realised. In between the first world war happens and we pass from the Victorian age to the Edwardian. Lily Briscoe, a painter, is the novel鈥檚 principle touchstone. It鈥檚 she who the novel will liberate. Just as The Waves is a wholly original restructuring of the form of biography, To the Lighthouse is a wholly original restructuring of the form of autobiography. Though Virginia is absent in any literal sense from To the Lighthouse she pervades it. Mr and Mrs Ramsey are clearly portraits of her parents 鈥� and what fantastic living portraits they are. Lily Briscoe isn鈥檛 their daughter in the novel but essentially, through Lily, what we鈥檙e reading about is Virginia Woolf鈥檚 journey from stifled Victorian young girl to creative Edwardian woman. It鈥檚 probably the best book ever about women鈥檚 liberation.
A lot has been written about the significance of the Lighthouse. Basically, its light, seen from afar at night, is a magical presence; seen close up in the light of day it is a prosaic thing without wonder. In that sense it鈥檚 like Gatsby鈥檚 green light. But whereas Fitzgerald chose to depict this light as essentially illusory, albeit with a high inspirational charge, Woolf perhaps sees that light as a representation of those heightened moments of sensibility, or 鈥渕oments of being鈥� as she called them, when, for a fleeting moment, we carry a candle into the dark and catch sight of a vision informed by understanding, wholeness, an enduring significance.
As a footnote I have to comment on how comically inept the synopsis of this novel is. Lily spends the entire novel trying to work out the truth of who Mr and Mrs Ramsey are. The author of the synopsis has no such difficulty 鈥� they鈥檙e both nailed down with a two worded epithet - 鈥渢ragic yet absurd鈥� and 鈥渟erene and maternal鈥�. We鈥檙e then told 鈥淎s time winds its way through their lives, the Ramsays face, alone and simultaneously, the greatest of human challenges and its greatest triumph--the human capacity for change.鈥� Mrs Ramsey though is only alive for one day in this novel so I鈥檓 not sure how she faces any challenge of change and Mr Ramsey barely changes at all. Lily, the novel鈥檚 most important character, doesn鈥檛 even get a mention.
Perhaps the first thing to say about To the Lighthouse is what an utterly brilliant depiction it is of a seaside holiday home, especially as experienced through the eyes of a child. It brought vividly to life so many of my own memories of sleeping in a room where the sound of the waves came in through the window at night and sand crunches underfoot everywhere. Every moment in To the Lighthouse is a defining moment, a moment in which identity is forged, memory is made, knowledge is gathered; every moment creates a ghost of itself which will survive the ravages of time. The seaside holiday home is among the most treasured historical sites for the archaeologist in us all, our Mycenae, our Troy, a place from which we can trace the rudiments of identity.
On the surface To the Lighthouse is about two trips to a lighthouse, one aborted, the other realised. In between the first world war happens and we pass from the Victorian age to the Edwardian. Lily Briscoe, a painter, is the novel鈥檚 principle touchstone. It鈥檚 she who the novel will liberate. Just as The Waves is a wholly original restructuring of the form of biography, To the Lighthouse is a wholly original restructuring of the form of autobiography. Though Virginia is absent in any literal sense from To the Lighthouse she pervades it. Mr and Mrs Ramsey are clearly portraits of her parents 鈥� and what fantastic living portraits they are. Lily Briscoe isn鈥檛 their daughter in the novel but essentially, through Lily, what we鈥檙e reading about is Virginia Woolf鈥檚 journey from stifled Victorian young girl to creative Edwardian woman. It鈥檚 probably the best book ever about women鈥檚 liberation.
A lot has been written about the significance of the Lighthouse. Basically, its light, seen from afar at night, is a magical presence; seen close up in the light of day it is a prosaic thing without wonder. In that sense it鈥檚 like Gatsby鈥檚 green light. But whereas Fitzgerald chose to depict this light as essentially illusory, albeit with a high inspirational charge, Woolf perhaps sees that light as a representation of those heightened moments of sensibility, or 鈥渕oments of being鈥� as she called them, when, for a fleeting moment, we carry a candle into the dark and catch sight of a vision informed by understanding, wholeness, an enduring significance.
As a footnote I have to comment on how comically inept the synopsis of this novel is. Lily spends the entire novel trying to work out the truth of who Mr and Mrs Ramsey are. The author of the synopsis has no such difficulty 鈥� they鈥檙e both nailed down with a two worded epithet - 鈥渢ragic yet absurd鈥� and 鈥渟erene and maternal鈥�. We鈥檙e then told 鈥淎s time winds its way through their lives, the Ramsays face, alone and simultaneously, the greatest of human challenges and its greatest triumph--the human capacity for change.鈥� Mrs Ramsey though is only alive for one day in this novel so I鈥檓 not sure how she faces any challenge of change and Mr Ramsey barely changes at all. Lily, the novel鈥檚 most important character, doesn鈥檛 even get a mention.
March 7, 2019
i love this book, and someday i should write a thoughtful review of it, but i have just discovered betterbooktitles.com, and this cracked me up:
June 16, 2020
3.5 stars
鈥淪he could see it all so clearly, so commandingly, when she looked: it was when she took her brush in hand that the whole thing changed. It was in that moment鈥檚 flight between the picture and her canvas that the demons set on her who often brought her to the verge of tears and made this passage from conception to work as dreadful as any down a dark passage for a child.鈥�
The quote above is in reference to Lily Briscoe, one of several guests of the Ramsays during their summer holidays to the Isle of Skye. She has a vision of this place and of the Ramsay family, which she desires to capture on canvas. The painting is left unfinished in the first section of the book, only to be completed on the very last page after the passage of ten years time. I admit it also sums up quite perfectly the feeling I have when reading and reviewing a Woolf piece. I have a complicated relationship with Woolf thus far. I see her vision as if through a fog. I gather up pieces of it in moments of clarity, until all fade once again. Like the Lighthouse that blinks, alternately illuminating and darkening, Woolf鈥檚 message comes to me in fragments. Once I have finished one of her novels, the whole is finally made clear, just as Lily鈥檚 composition is made complete with that final brushstroke.
鈥淲hen darkness fell, the stroke of the Lighthouse, which had laid itself with such authority upon the carpet in the darkness, tracing its pattern, came now in the softer light of spring mixed with moonlight gliding gently as if it laid its caress and lingered stealthily and looked and came lovingly again.鈥�
The structure of this book is nothing short of brilliant. That much I can concede. That doesn鈥檛 make it an easy read by any means. It requires fierce concentration and a keen awareness as the perspective jumps from one character鈥檚 inner life to the next. The first part of the novel is marked by a planned trip to visit the Lighthouse, and whether this adventure will come to pass or not. This is the whole of any sort of plot that exists. The depth of the novel comes from the private thoughts of both the main and secondary characters. How can anyone really grasp what another person feels and thinks? There are misunderstandings and illusions on the surface. We are able to see these things, even if briefly, through Woolf鈥檚 lens. Mrs. Ramsay stands at the core of this section. Not only are her introspections revealed to us, we are further offered glimpses of her as seen by the others. We see how the guests view one another, how parents view children and vice versa, and what spouses reveal about their relationships.
鈥淚t could not last, she knew, but at the moment her eyes were so clear that they seemed to go round the table unveiling each of these people, and their thoughts and their feelings, without effort like a light stealing under water so that its ripples and the reeds in it and the minnows balancing themselves, and the sudden silent trout are all lit up hanging, trembling.鈥�
The middle section of the book highlights the unrelenting passing of time. Despite the impact these characters have made on us as readers, time will do its dirty business of changing all that we have known. War intrudes, life鈥檚 challenges interfere. What remains is a house, the land. Human lives are transitory.
鈥淣othing, it seemed, could survive the flood, the profusion of darkness which, creeping in at keyholes and crevices, stole round window blinds, came into bedrooms, swallowed up here a jug and basin, there a bowl of red and yellow dahlias, there the sharp edges and firm bulk of a chest of drawers鈥� there was scarcely anything left of body or mind by which one could say, 鈥楾his is he鈥� or 鈥楾his is she.鈥欌€�
The last section of the novel sees some characters returning to the house after the war, after ten years have passed. Some have come and gone from this world. Those that remain intend to realize a journey to the Lighthouse that had been previously thwarted. The metaphor of the lighthouse is clearly one that can be mulled over and discussed endlessly it seems. I鈥檓 not confident in my ability to convey what the expedition as well as its outcome truly means. Likely, I could give you different answers depending on which character we consider. Is the Lighthouse perhaps a symbol of hope, one that can alternately brighten and then dim without reason? Is the idea of getting there, the actual journey, more important than the end result? Are the moments of illumination the ones we should grasp and hold onto, despite the moments of darkness?
Woolf is indeed challenging for me as a reader. I appreciate the genius and the beauty of her writing, but it鈥檚 difficult for me to truly enjoy the experience while I am actually in the moment. It鈥檚 the reflection afterwards when the canvas is more fully revealed that I can applaud its significance and value.
鈥淲hat is the meaning of life? That was all 鈥� a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.鈥�
鈥淪he could see it all so clearly, so commandingly, when she looked: it was when she took her brush in hand that the whole thing changed. It was in that moment鈥檚 flight between the picture and her canvas that the demons set on her who often brought her to the verge of tears and made this passage from conception to work as dreadful as any down a dark passage for a child.鈥�
The quote above is in reference to Lily Briscoe, one of several guests of the Ramsays during their summer holidays to the Isle of Skye. She has a vision of this place and of the Ramsay family, which she desires to capture on canvas. The painting is left unfinished in the first section of the book, only to be completed on the very last page after the passage of ten years time. I admit it also sums up quite perfectly the feeling I have when reading and reviewing a Woolf piece. I have a complicated relationship with Woolf thus far. I see her vision as if through a fog. I gather up pieces of it in moments of clarity, until all fade once again. Like the Lighthouse that blinks, alternately illuminating and darkening, Woolf鈥檚 message comes to me in fragments. Once I have finished one of her novels, the whole is finally made clear, just as Lily鈥檚 composition is made complete with that final brushstroke.
鈥淲hen darkness fell, the stroke of the Lighthouse, which had laid itself with such authority upon the carpet in the darkness, tracing its pattern, came now in the softer light of spring mixed with moonlight gliding gently as if it laid its caress and lingered stealthily and looked and came lovingly again.鈥�
The structure of this book is nothing short of brilliant. That much I can concede. That doesn鈥檛 make it an easy read by any means. It requires fierce concentration and a keen awareness as the perspective jumps from one character鈥檚 inner life to the next. The first part of the novel is marked by a planned trip to visit the Lighthouse, and whether this adventure will come to pass or not. This is the whole of any sort of plot that exists. The depth of the novel comes from the private thoughts of both the main and secondary characters. How can anyone really grasp what another person feels and thinks? There are misunderstandings and illusions on the surface. We are able to see these things, even if briefly, through Woolf鈥檚 lens. Mrs. Ramsay stands at the core of this section. Not only are her introspections revealed to us, we are further offered glimpses of her as seen by the others. We see how the guests view one another, how parents view children and vice versa, and what spouses reveal about their relationships.
鈥淚t could not last, she knew, but at the moment her eyes were so clear that they seemed to go round the table unveiling each of these people, and their thoughts and their feelings, without effort like a light stealing under water so that its ripples and the reeds in it and the minnows balancing themselves, and the sudden silent trout are all lit up hanging, trembling.鈥�
The middle section of the book highlights the unrelenting passing of time. Despite the impact these characters have made on us as readers, time will do its dirty business of changing all that we have known. War intrudes, life鈥檚 challenges interfere. What remains is a house, the land. Human lives are transitory.
鈥淣othing, it seemed, could survive the flood, the profusion of darkness which, creeping in at keyholes and crevices, stole round window blinds, came into bedrooms, swallowed up here a jug and basin, there a bowl of red and yellow dahlias, there the sharp edges and firm bulk of a chest of drawers鈥� there was scarcely anything left of body or mind by which one could say, 鈥楾his is he鈥� or 鈥楾his is she.鈥欌€�
The last section of the novel sees some characters returning to the house after the war, after ten years have passed. Some have come and gone from this world. Those that remain intend to realize a journey to the Lighthouse that had been previously thwarted. The metaphor of the lighthouse is clearly one that can be mulled over and discussed endlessly it seems. I鈥檓 not confident in my ability to convey what the expedition as well as its outcome truly means. Likely, I could give you different answers depending on which character we consider. Is the Lighthouse perhaps a symbol of hope, one that can alternately brighten and then dim without reason? Is the idea of getting there, the actual journey, more important than the end result? Are the moments of illumination the ones we should grasp and hold onto, despite the moments of darkness?
Woolf is indeed challenging for me as a reader. I appreciate the genius and the beauty of her writing, but it鈥檚 difficult for me to truly enjoy the experience while I am actually in the moment. It鈥檚 the reflection afterwards when the canvas is more fully revealed that I can applaud its significance and value.
鈥淲hat is the meaning of life? That was all 鈥� a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.鈥�
May 7, 2024
On the quiet pretty isle of Skye in the remote Hebrides, off the coast of Scotland before the carnage of World War One, Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay bring their large family, eight children and a few friends for a summer vacation, get away from the turmoil of city living in London. But with 15 at the dinner table , ( not counting the servants) that will be a goal unattainable. Mrs. Ramsay is a beauty, she pretends to ignore that fact still her aging, brilliant, distant philosopher husband does not, is proud... a book writer in metaphysics, (what is reality, unpopular today) constantly wondering if he'll be remembered in the future, the new generation ignores his writings. A mild tyrant at home, his children are afraid of but he is too involved in his work, and mostly neglects them. Mrs. Ramsay is loved by James, Andrew, Jasper, Roger, and Prue, Rose, Nancy, Cam, her sons and daughters. Six -year- old James is very close to his mother, the shy boy hates his father who intimidates him, like his siblings are too, all the boy wants is to go and visit the nearby alluring lighthouse, on a tiny island. The father insists frequently, to the child's great annoyance that bad weather tomorrow for their planned trip, will prevent this. Mrs. Ramsay to soothe the anxious James, unwisely tell him that all will be fine in the morning, naturally a storm arrives and the child is disappointed, his detestation increases against the father...Lily Briscoe, a friend of Mrs. Ramsay's, is painting on a white canvas, a beautiful picture of the island and sea, outside the shabby house of her friends, ( they are not wealthy) maybe even the lighthouse, the trouble is, she can not finish it. Something always stops the woman, Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay, the children, birds making noises, little critters scurrying around, the strong winds, friends talking, Mr. Tansley saying women can't paint or write any excuse she needs. The old maid enjoys the company of Mr. William Banks, an older widower, Mrs. Ramsay a romantic at heart, and a busy matchmaker is trying to get the two married. Plain Lily is not very enthusiastic, she likes her freedom, a lonely life for her she wants.... Years pass people die, the war begins and finally ends, nothing lasts forever the ghosts of the past will not stay dead, memories linger on the survivors continue, they can't forget. James at long last takes the boat with his detested father, yet looking for his approval he needs, brothers and sisters on board, to the fabled black and white lighthouse, above the horizon the smooth sea cooperates, a steady wind blows the sails full, the bright blue sky and equally blue ocean makes this the perfect day for their voyage. Miss Lily Briscoe, at this melancholic time completes her task, only ten years late she will put this masterpiece in the attic...
March 15, 2020
鈥淎l faro鈥� es un cuadro, el intento de aprehender un instante.
鈥淎l faro鈥� es un cuadro que la autora va levantando ante nosotros pincelada a pincelada. Es un momento fijado para siempre en el que los colores aparecen mezclados, donde nada es del todo preciso, donde hasta los objetos y los paisajes son mostrados desde la sensibilidad de cada uno de los personajes, a trav茅s de sus sentimientos, de sus emociones, de sus ideas, de sus recuerdos, de sus evocaciones. Nada ocurre fuera de la mente de estos seres, no hay acontecimientos, no hay consumaci贸n ni superaci贸n de deseos, anhelos, esperanzas, miedos, todo queda reflejado y fijado en el cuadro en una escena total no m谩s importante que cada una de sus partes.
鈥淎l faro鈥� es un cuadro que cuestiona eso que llamamos realidad, su comprensi贸n, su representaci贸n, la posibilidad de expresarla.
Algunos de los fantasmas que Woolf pretend铆a exorcizar con su se帽ora Dalloway permanecen aqu铆: el paso del tiempo, la frustraci贸n, la incomunicaci贸n, el papel de la mujer en la familia y en la sociedad, la homosexualidad, la duda existencial, la soledad, 鈥渁quella soledad que constitu铆a (鈥�) la aut茅ntica esencia de las cosas鈥�.
A estos hay que a帽adir ahora el af谩n de inmortalidad, de permanencia en la de memoria de los otros que se observa en dos de los personajes principales: el Sr. Ramsey a trav茅s de sus libros y la Sra. Ramsey por su necesidad de influencia en el transcurso de otras vidas. Y, por supuesto, las relaciones paternofiliales.
Aunque ello no ha sido impedimento para disfrutarla de principio a fin, he de reconocer que la obra est谩 algo descompensada. Con una parte inicial soberbia y un interludio sorprendente, la parte final, quiz谩s solo por comparaci贸n, me ha parecido floja. En cualquier caso, sigo manteniendo que Virginia Woolf es un portento y que posee la magia que caracteriza a los grandes.
鈥淎l faro鈥� es un cuadro que la autora va levantando ante nosotros pincelada a pincelada. Es un momento fijado para siempre en el que los colores aparecen mezclados, donde nada es del todo preciso, donde hasta los objetos y los paisajes son mostrados desde la sensibilidad de cada uno de los personajes, a trav茅s de sus sentimientos, de sus emociones, de sus ideas, de sus recuerdos, de sus evocaciones. Nada ocurre fuera de la mente de estos seres, no hay acontecimientos, no hay consumaci贸n ni superaci贸n de deseos, anhelos, esperanzas, miedos, todo queda reflejado y fijado en el cuadro en una escena total no m谩s importante que cada una de sus partes.
鈥淎l faro鈥� es un cuadro que cuestiona eso que llamamos realidad, su comprensi贸n, su representaci贸n, la posibilidad de expresarla.
鈥淰e铆a ella todo con tanta claridad, con tanta seguridad, cuando dirig铆a la mirada a la escena; pero todo cambiaba cuando cog铆a el pincel. Era en ese momento fugaz que se interpon铆a entre la visi贸n y el lienzo cuando la asaltaban los demonios, que, a menudo, la dejaban a punto de echarse a llorar, y convert铆an ese trayecto entre concepci贸n y trabajo en algo tan horrible como un pasillo oscuro para un ni帽o. Le suced铆a con frecuencia: luchaba en inferioridad de condiciones para mantener el valor; ten铆a que decirse: 芦Lo veo as铆, lo veo as铆禄, para atesorar alg煤n resto de la visi贸n en el coraz贸n, una visi贸n que un millar de fuerzas se esforzaba en arrancarle.鈥�鈥淎l faro鈥� es un cuadro cat谩rtico para la autora, como seguramente lo fueron todas sus novelas, un intento de reconciliarse con sus padres, encarnados aqu铆 por el Sr. y la Sra. Ramsay. Esa implicaci贸n personal en su obra, m谩s all谩 de la b煤squeda del valor literario, como para Lily Briscoe, el tercer personaje principal de la obra, significaba la pintura, seguramente contribuye a esa fuerza especial que caracteriza su prosa.
鈥淎cabar铆an colg谩ndolo en la buhardilla o deshaci茅ndose de 茅l, pens贸. Pero 驴qu茅 m谩s daba?, se pregunt贸 volviendo a coger el pincel.鈥�Pero, sobre todo, 鈥淎l faro鈥� es un bello cuadro, casi tan magn铆fico como 鈥淟a se帽ora Dalloway鈥� con la que comparte algunos temas y, sobre todo, una l铆rica y un estilo. Por encima de cualquier otra consideraci贸n, es la forma impresionista, a medio camino entre la narrativa y la poes铆a, lo m谩s sobresaliente del relato como lo fue en aquella. Nuevamente se repite aqu铆 la combinaci贸n de la primera y tercera persona con la que la autora concatena los distintos di谩logos interiores y los consiguientes puntos de vista que conforman la narraci贸n; se conserva tambi茅n el gusto por el detalle cotidiano, as铆 como el poder evocador de la recreaci贸n de ambientes y la descripci贸n sentimental de escenarios y objetos.
Algunos de los fantasmas que Woolf pretend铆a exorcizar con su se帽ora Dalloway permanecen aqu铆: el paso del tiempo, la frustraci贸n, la incomunicaci贸n, el papel de la mujer en la familia y en la sociedad, la homosexualidad, la duda existencial, la soledad, 鈥渁quella soledad que constitu铆a (鈥�) la aut茅ntica esencia de las cosas鈥�.
A estos hay que a帽adir ahora el af谩n de inmortalidad, de permanencia en la de memoria de los otros que se observa en dos de los personajes principales: el Sr. Ramsey a trav茅s de sus libros y la Sra. Ramsey por su necesidad de influencia en el transcurso de otras vidas. Y, por supuesto, las relaciones paternofiliales.
Aunque ello no ha sido impedimento para disfrutarla de principio a fin, he de reconocer que la obra est谩 algo descompensada. Con una parte inicial soberbia y un interludio sorprendente, la parte final, quiz谩s solo por comparaci贸n, me ha parecido floja. En cualquier caso, sigo manteniendo que Virginia Woolf es un portento y que posee la magia que caracteriza a los grandes.
April 3, 2024
To the Lighthouse was my first exposure to Virginia Woolf. Unfortunately, after reading about forty pages, I gave up. I wasn't comfortable with her stream of consciousness and kept her out of my reading list. Since that time, however, I have read a few of her major works and have come to adore her. I've grown comfortable with her writing now.
To the Lighthouse is Virginia's most autobiographical work. The main characters - Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay were modeled on her real-life parents. The character of Lily Briscoe and her thoughts on the creative process of painting represent her thoughts on writing. Some of the events of the book too are taken from real life. This autobiographic element gives this work a truthfulness and an earnestness that goes right through to the reader's heart.
To the Lighthouse touches on many themes. Outwardly, one can identify marriage as one focal theme. Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey's marriage is one balanced between intellect and emotion, Mr. Ramsay bringing the intellect and Mrs. Ramsay the emotions. The combined harmony of these two aspects keeps them together irrespective of their so different temperaments. The parent and child relationship is another theme. The paternal authority of Mr. Ramsay and its ineffective smoothing by his wife leave the younger Ramsay children considering their father a tyrant, a despot. Their resentment for him and his authority is too great to be smoothed by the mother's love. But what their mother couldn't do, time does. Ten-year span sees a reconciliation through mature understanding and respect. All these stemmed from Virginia's personal experiences and her need to express them and to share them in the guise of a story, for it is said that writing this novel was Virginia's attempt at understanding her parents and their relationship and hers with them.
But the most important is the inward focus on the meaning of life. There is an in-depth discussion of change, impermanence, and death. Virginia captures the ephemeral nature of life and the human's eternal struggle in finding the meaning of life within it. The Ramsays and their friends too go through this familiar struggle. In this ever-changing life, with its impermanence, they try desperately to hold on to something for permanence and stability. This may be an object or a feeling or even a fleeting moment. Mrs. Ramsay's and James's focus is on the lighthouse. It is both a symbol of permanence and illumination but is inaccessible. Mrs. Ramsey dies not visiting it and when James Ramsay visits the lighthouse at last it is only to realize that it is not as he imagined. Lily Briscoe's painting is her object of permanence. But she never finishes it. And Mr. Ramsay's ground for permanence is his work. Yet, he is constantly anxious and fearful lest he and his work will be soon forgotten. He seeks permanence and immortality which cannot be attained. This philosophical and psychological discussion was so fascinating and it is what I enjoyed the most.
Above all, however, what most draws me to Virginia is her writing. It is her strength. It is the weapon with which she captures readers' hearts. There is such lyrical beauty in her writing notwithstanding her stream of consciousness. Her writing is poetry in the prosaic guise. I was very much absorbed from page one to the end. It was such a beautiful work of literature that reading it was such a pleasure.
Many critics believe that Waves is Virginia Woolf's masterpiece. And while I agree with them I must admit that To the Lighthouse follows closely behind given the intensity of thoughts and emotions she has poured into it. And Virginia Woolf herself had admitted that it was "easily the best of (her) books".
To the Lighthouse is Virginia's most autobiographical work. The main characters - Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay were modeled on her real-life parents. The character of Lily Briscoe and her thoughts on the creative process of painting represent her thoughts on writing. Some of the events of the book too are taken from real life. This autobiographic element gives this work a truthfulness and an earnestness that goes right through to the reader's heart.
To the Lighthouse touches on many themes. Outwardly, one can identify marriage as one focal theme. Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey's marriage is one balanced between intellect and emotion, Mr. Ramsay bringing the intellect and Mrs. Ramsay the emotions. The combined harmony of these two aspects keeps them together irrespective of their so different temperaments. The parent and child relationship is another theme. The paternal authority of Mr. Ramsay and its ineffective smoothing by his wife leave the younger Ramsay children considering their father a tyrant, a despot. Their resentment for him and his authority is too great to be smoothed by the mother's love. But what their mother couldn't do, time does. Ten-year span sees a reconciliation through mature understanding and respect. All these stemmed from Virginia's personal experiences and her need to express them and to share them in the guise of a story, for it is said that writing this novel was Virginia's attempt at understanding her parents and their relationship and hers with them.
But the most important is the inward focus on the meaning of life. There is an in-depth discussion of change, impermanence, and death. Virginia captures the ephemeral nature of life and the human's eternal struggle in finding the meaning of life within it. The Ramsays and their friends too go through this familiar struggle. In this ever-changing life, with its impermanence, they try desperately to hold on to something for permanence and stability. This may be an object or a feeling or even a fleeting moment. Mrs. Ramsay's and James's focus is on the lighthouse. It is both a symbol of permanence and illumination but is inaccessible. Mrs. Ramsey dies not visiting it and when James Ramsay visits the lighthouse at last it is only to realize that it is not as he imagined. Lily Briscoe's painting is her object of permanence. But she never finishes it. And Mr. Ramsay's ground for permanence is his work. Yet, he is constantly anxious and fearful lest he and his work will be soon forgotten. He seeks permanence and immortality which cannot be attained. This philosophical and psychological discussion was so fascinating and it is what I enjoyed the most.
Above all, however, what most draws me to Virginia is her writing. It is her strength. It is the weapon with which she captures readers' hearts. There is such lyrical beauty in her writing notwithstanding her stream of consciousness. Her writing is poetry in the prosaic guise. I was very much absorbed from page one to the end. It was such a beautiful work of literature that reading it was such a pleasure.
Many critics believe that Waves is Virginia Woolf's masterpiece. And while I agree with them I must admit that To the Lighthouse follows closely behind given the intensity of thoughts and emotions she has poured into it. And Virginia Woolf herself had admitted that it was "easily the best of (her) books".
March 9, 2025
To the kids, Mr Ramsay's lighthouse is part and parcel of a pleasant day's outing.
But then the Shadow falls.
All the kids hafta grow up fast, alas!
And look no further for the genesis of Ms Woolf's melancolia: even the Ramsay kids gotta deal with it, though none so awfully as the author, Virginia Woolf.
Mr Ramsay was a driven man, driven like my Dad. The shadow originates among Adults. But later I found the Lord, and in time went my own peaceful way.
At first, though, it was like this: Mr Ramsay, my Dad, was irascible petulance incarnate. Mrs Ramsay, though - my Mom - was sheer soothing stability and creature comfort. Under her direction, our new township library's readers would be inspired - their reading passion kindled to a white heat! Me too.
Sartre saw the Shadow of coming of age as a kinda Nausea: now it was too much. Too much for me, too, at twenty. My Dad had me committed. Go with the flow?
It took me fifty long years to do that.
Call me Ramsay junior. My Lighthouse was symbolically sacrosanct, like his - and like my dad's. My Dad was nothing if not God-fearing. I eventually learned how to read RELIGIOUSLY.
His moral wound became assuaged deep within me.
So my Lighthouse was the Lord. He showed me how to navigate the rocks that destroyed Virginia's sanity.
That lighthouse is still standing...
Else the Lord died for nothing!
No, He is my Lighthouse and has kept standing tall:
When all around me fell.
But then the Shadow falls.
All the kids hafta grow up fast, alas!
And look no further for the genesis of Ms Woolf's melancolia: even the Ramsay kids gotta deal with it, though none so awfully as the author, Virginia Woolf.
Mr Ramsay was a driven man, driven like my Dad. The shadow originates among Adults. But later I found the Lord, and in time went my own peaceful way.
At first, though, it was like this: Mr Ramsay, my Dad, was irascible petulance incarnate. Mrs Ramsay, though - my Mom - was sheer soothing stability and creature comfort. Under her direction, our new township library's readers would be inspired - their reading passion kindled to a white heat! Me too.
Sartre saw the Shadow of coming of age as a kinda Nausea: now it was too much. Too much for me, too, at twenty. My Dad had me committed. Go with the flow?
It took me fifty long years to do that.
Call me Ramsay junior. My Lighthouse was symbolically sacrosanct, like his - and like my dad's. My Dad was nothing if not God-fearing. I eventually learned how to read RELIGIOUSLY.
His moral wound became assuaged deep within me.
So my Lighthouse was the Lord. He showed me how to navigate the rocks that destroyed Virginia's sanity.
That lighthouse is still standing...
Else the Lord died for nothing!
No, He is my Lighthouse and has kept standing tall:
When all around me fell.
May 2, 2024
Being immersed in the lives of Virginia Woolf's characters in The Lighthouse was a splendid joy. When I turned the pages, I felt almost like one of them.
There, I've said too much. There is much more to it. It is enlightenment.
There, I've said too much. There is much more to it. It is enlightenment.
June 24, 2022
This was鈥uperb!
November 16, 2023
Bewildered yet transfixed, I painstakingly studied each beautifully crafted sentence with patience; like an obsessed detective looking for hidden clues as to just what Virginia Woolf had put in front of me: for the most part, I hadn't the foggiest. It took awhile, but eventually I slowly started to part the fog to see a quite beautiful novel in front of me. This book requires complete and utter attention, that's one thing I easily recognized early on. The language Woolf speaks is rich and imposing, casting an hypnotic spell over me, even thought to begin I was awash with confusion, reading Woolf for the first time has truly opened my eyes to why she is regarded so highly: the writing; I haven't come across anything quite like this before. It's not the greatest novel I have, or will ever read, but the writing is quite astonishing.
But why? I asked myself; why go to the lighthouse at all? Why the big fuss about going or not going, what was it about? The Mrs Ramsey that had me enraptured? She who went about in her garden in silly old hats; she who pampered Mr Ramsey with spoonfuls of tactful acquiescence. A man who appeared unworthy. Then there's Lily Briscoe, who wanted to be an artist; full of desire, but pretty hopeless at painting. And what about the children? Who tither here and there, almost in a haze. It's safe to say the characters of Woolf are much elusive and the story is inconclusive, as on the outside everything seems unfathomable. So just what the hell was it that had me adoring it so much?
Simply put Woolf evoked a feeling deep within of family, both living and deceased, and is there anything more important than that? It had me thinking of my own childhood; holidays; fragmented memories, from a seemingly distant life. Woolf clearly opened up her heart, so I opened mine right back.
I barley finished reading but looking back now it feels like a dream. Something I read in the land of the subconscious. A warm glowing extraordinary emotional pitch still burns inside. All starting with the first paragraphs describing the heavenly bliss of a six-year-old boy cutting pictures of kitchen appliances out of a magazine, and ending with the Lighthouse in sight. Even the parentheses in the novel's stylised middle section was deeply strange, and all along I seemed to forget this was written some 90 years ago. The writing of people and their feelings was unequivocally overwhelming, her prose so highly wrought. It took time for me to register that its setting was actually centred on summer holidays spent around Isle of Skye, Scotland. I would also learn the novel does have personal ties with Woolf: her parents; the gaping hole that opened when her mother passed away; and the way her father imposed himself and his grief upon his daughters. Mrs Ramsay is at the centre of Woolf's thinking, then she is no more; the survivors must bear her absence.
To the Lighthouse was the literary equivalent to perching in the back of someone else's mind; going through their own pains and joys through the thought process. There was nothing extraordinary about her characters, they were rather conventional, nothing new, but her prose is proof of the skill in which they are written, and they could quite easily be anyone else's neighbours or friends. She captured exactly the essence of certain people, and their traits and mannerisms. It took time to adjust myself to Woolf's writing, and had me thinking it's the sort of book only those with an English Literature degree will find easy to penetrate; whereas for me, I started out from a distance, far, but finally ended up on a pebbly beach, close, where the clouds parted, revealing clearer skies.
I could have abandoned this early on, but just so glad I didn't. Can I conclude it is a masterpiece then? For the writing alone it's worthy of top marks, but I think it definitely requires a second reading, which, most likely, would be better than the first.
August 10, 2019
A Virginia Woolf hay que leerla de seguido. Sus novelas requieren que te introduzcas tanto en sus historias como en sus propios pensamientos, y cuanto m谩s la lees m谩s la aprecias.
'Al faro' no me ha fascinado como 'La se帽ora Dalloway' (Porque eso es IMPOSIBLE), pero me ha gustado much铆simo.
La narraci贸n y los temas son similares, e incluso tiene una figura femenina central similar a aquella. En este caso podr铆amos decir que la protagonista es Mrs. Ramsay, una mujer de mediana edad, madre de 8 hijos y esposa de un egoc茅ntrico fil贸sofo. La historia arranca con una an茅cdota, la intenci贸n de la familia entera de ir a visitar el faro, durante su estancia en la isla de Skye en Escocia en 1910.
Veremos a trav茅s de sus p谩ginas lo que supone la p茅rdida, el efecto de la guerra, la soledad, el papel de la mujer y las dif铆ciles relaciones familiares y sentimentales.
Una vez m谩s los libros de esta autora suponen un esfuerzo de EMPAT脥A por parte del lector, aunque en mi caso tengo una extra帽a conexi贸n con Woolf y sus personajes lo que me hace disfrutar de sus historias desde la primera p谩gina hasta la 煤ltima.
En este caso el personaje con el que he conectado m谩s profundamente ha sido Lily Briscoe, una joven pintora que se aloja junto a otros amigos en la casa de los Ramsay, pero todos los personajes me han resultado tan interesantes como cre铆bles.
Me ha gustado much铆simo la estructura del libro, dividida en tres partes en las que la segunda es una especie de puente entre la primera y tercera, separadas por un espacio de tiempo de 10 a帽os. Am茅 mucho la segunda parte, pero mucho.
Termin茅 el libro con ganas de volver a empezarlo otra vez, y eso me pasa tan pocas veces... 鈾�
'Al faro' no me ha fascinado como 'La se帽ora Dalloway' (Porque eso es IMPOSIBLE), pero me ha gustado much铆simo.
La narraci贸n y los temas son similares, e incluso tiene una figura femenina central similar a aquella. En este caso podr铆amos decir que la protagonista es Mrs. Ramsay, una mujer de mediana edad, madre de 8 hijos y esposa de un egoc茅ntrico fil贸sofo. La historia arranca con una an茅cdota, la intenci贸n de la familia entera de ir a visitar el faro, durante su estancia en la isla de Skye en Escocia en 1910.
Veremos a trav茅s de sus p谩ginas lo que supone la p茅rdida, el efecto de la guerra, la soledad, el papel de la mujer y las dif铆ciles relaciones familiares y sentimentales.
Una vez m谩s los libros de esta autora suponen un esfuerzo de EMPAT脥A por parte del lector, aunque en mi caso tengo una extra帽a conexi贸n con Woolf y sus personajes lo que me hace disfrutar de sus historias desde la primera p谩gina hasta la 煤ltima.
En este caso el personaje con el que he conectado m谩s profundamente ha sido Lily Briscoe, una joven pintora que se aloja junto a otros amigos en la casa de los Ramsay, pero todos los personajes me han resultado tan interesantes como cre铆bles.
Me ha gustado much铆simo la estructura del libro, dividida en tres partes en las que la segunda es una especie de puente entre la primera y tercera, separadas por un espacio de tiempo de 10 a帽os. Am茅 mucho la segunda parte, pero mucho.
Termin茅 el libro con ganas de volver a empezarlo otra vez, y eso me pasa tan pocas veces... 鈾�
July 31, 2014
Oh Virginia! How is it that you make your words spring to life from the barren pages and hit my senses with the force of a gale every time? How is it that you peel off the layers of the banal and reveal the terrible beauty of the core? How is it that you steer my consciousness so deep into the murky waters of uncharted territory that resurfacing takes a toll on my strength?
I wonder what spirit possessed you every time you picked up your pen, brimming over with confidence or maybe unsure of your own craft, to pour every ounce of what weighed on your mind fluidly into the empty pages waiting in anticipation. I wonder if you heard the voices of decades lost in the spiral of time whispering into your ears the truest wisdom of all, as you sat at a desk in a room of your own, pursuing the tail end of some stray thought. I wonder if you ever realized the worth of what you wrote or the gift you have left for generations to cherish after your bones and flesh have been turned to dust and returned to where they rose from.
I wonder if I have ever known a woman like Mrs Ramsay in person - been enamored of her ethereal beauty and grudgingly admired her command over the hearts of those who lived in her shadow and the way she let go of that same command as and when her whimsies deemed fit. I wonder if nearly every marital bond ever forged between two individuals has been or is a replication of the interplay of words and emotions, spoken and unspoken, between the Ramsays. I wonder if Lily Briscoe is truly a personification of the unified spirit of the man and the woman, their dichotomies conjoining imperfectly in the splotches of color she dabs on to her empty canvasses.
I strive to make sense of the lighthouse and what it illuminates in a rare moment facilitating cognition, when my eyes have become well-adjusted to the darkness. I don't get the purpose of its existence but I do. I see the lighthouse, hazy and sprayed white by the sea imprisoning it on all sides, standing tall in all its majestic grandeur merging with the horizon, out of my reach and I wonder how it looms so large yet recedes into the distance as a mute, inanimate witness to the play acts of life. I see it as I turn the pages, sometimes not understanding what it is that Virginia wants me to grasp and sometimes struck speechless by the impact of a realization in an instant of profound lucidity.
No other book has rendered me so completely helpless in my measly efforts to encapsulate its essence. No other book has required of me such prolonged contemplation.
Think of the usual quota of trite responses to a question like "How're you?". Think of the quick "I'm fine" or "I'm well, how are you?" that comes without a moment's delay and how untrue and inadequate either response is each time. If somebody asks me to pronounce judgement on TTL, I'd perhaps respond with an equally predictable 'It is the best book I have read yet' and realize instantly how vapid and insincere this answer is, how silly it is to call this Woolf creation merely a "best book".
Currents of erratic thoughts, many of them contradictory in nature, are zipping past each other inside my head this moment and I am unable to articulate into words the fact of their individual existence as I open my mouth or let my fingers move over this keyboard. That is what attempting to dissect To the Lighthouse feels like. Irrespective of what I write or attempt to write, it is sure to be of little significance and ineffective in giving anyone even a teeny glimpse of what Virginia succeeds in capturing so flawlessly.
Sights and sounds and smells and emotions - strong, subtle, indescribable. The ephemeral quality of an instant when a man and a woman watch their little girl play with a ball, a rare moment in time when each of their individual actions and thoughts are somehow in perfect harmony. The resolute constancy of life and it's cautious but sure-footed tread on the newer ground of change and our bittersweet relationship with this change. A melding together of past, present and future in a blur of color and meaning. Every human emotion ever known and felt. All of this and much more. A pure cerebral extravaganza, a celebration of the collective spirit of our existence on this ugly and beautiful world of ours, an acknowledgement of both pain and joy. That is what I think it is.
I dream of going to the lighthouse one day like James, I dream of letting it guide my progress in the lightless, labyrinthine pathways into the heart and soul of this narrative once again. I dream of not allowing any sentence, any word to whiz past me uncomprehended when I read this again some day.
Till then I only delight in swaying to the rhythm of her words, in her immortal lyrics in the song of life.
I wonder what spirit possessed you every time you picked up your pen, brimming over with confidence or maybe unsure of your own craft, to pour every ounce of what weighed on your mind fluidly into the empty pages waiting in anticipation. I wonder if you heard the voices of decades lost in the spiral of time whispering into your ears the truest wisdom of all, as you sat at a desk in a room of your own, pursuing the tail end of some stray thought. I wonder if you ever realized the worth of what you wrote or the gift you have left for generations to cherish after your bones and flesh have been turned to dust and returned to where they rose from.
I wonder if I have ever known a woman like Mrs Ramsay in person - been enamored of her ethereal beauty and grudgingly admired her command over the hearts of those who lived in her shadow and the way she let go of that same command as and when her whimsies deemed fit. I wonder if nearly every marital bond ever forged between two individuals has been or is a replication of the interplay of words and emotions, spoken and unspoken, between the Ramsays. I wonder if Lily Briscoe is truly a personification of the unified spirit of the man and the woman, their dichotomies conjoining imperfectly in the splotches of color she dabs on to her empty canvasses.
I strive to make sense of the lighthouse and what it illuminates in a rare moment facilitating cognition, when my eyes have become well-adjusted to the darkness. I don't get the purpose of its existence but I do. I see the lighthouse, hazy and sprayed white by the sea imprisoning it on all sides, standing tall in all its majestic grandeur merging with the horizon, out of my reach and I wonder how it looms so large yet recedes into the distance as a mute, inanimate witness to the play acts of life. I see it as I turn the pages, sometimes not understanding what it is that Virginia wants me to grasp and sometimes struck speechless by the impact of a realization in an instant of profound lucidity.
No other book has rendered me so completely helpless in my measly efforts to encapsulate its essence. No other book has required of me such prolonged contemplation.
Think of the usual quota of trite responses to a question like "How're you?". Think of the quick "I'm fine" or "I'm well, how are you?" that comes without a moment's delay and how untrue and inadequate either response is each time. If somebody asks me to pronounce judgement on TTL, I'd perhaps respond with an equally predictable 'It is the best book I have read yet' and realize instantly how vapid and insincere this answer is, how silly it is to call this Woolf creation merely a "best book".
Currents of erratic thoughts, many of them contradictory in nature, are zipping past each other inside my head this moment and I am unable to articulate into words the fact of their individual existence as I open my mouth or let my fingers move over this keyboard. That is what attempting to dissect To the Lighthouse feels like. Irrespective of what I write or attempt to write, it is sure to be of little significance and ineffective in giving anyone even a teeny glimpse of what Virginia succeeds in capturing so flawlessly.
Sights and sounds and smells and emotions - strong, subtle, indescribable. The ephemeral quality of an instant when a man and a woman watch their little girl play with a ball, a rare moment in time when each of their individual actions and thoughts are somehow in perfect harmony. The resolute constancy of life and it's cautious but sure-footed tread on the newer ground of change and our bittersweet relationship with this change. A melding together of past, present and future in a blur of color and meaning. Every human emotion ever known and felt. All of this and much more. A pure cerebral extravaganza, a celebration of the collective spirit of our existence on this ugly and beautiful world of ours, an acknowledgement of both pain and joy. That is what I think it is.
I dream of going to the lighthouse one day like James, I dream of letting it guide my progress in the lightless, labyrinthine pathways into the heart and soul of this narrative once again. I dream of not allowing any sentence, any word to whiz past me uncomprehended when I read this again some day.
Till then I only delight in swaying to the rhythm of her words, in her immortal lyrics in the song of life.
February 16, 2016
This was a book I thought I should read. It is described as the novel that established Virginia Woolf as a leading writer of the 20th century.
So I started, and on page 6, I came to this sentence 鈥�
She was now formidable to behold, and it was only in silence, looking up from their plates, after she had spoken so severely about Charles Tansley, that her daughters, Prue, Nancy, Rose - could sport with infidel ideas which they had brewed for themselves of a life different from hers; in Paris, perhaps; a wilder life; not always taking care of some man or other; for there was in all their minds a mute questioning of deference and chivalry, of the Bank of England and the Indian Empire, of ringed fingers and lace, though to them all there was something in this of the essence of beauty, which called out the manliness in their girlish hearts, and made them, as they sat at the table beneath their mother鈥檚 eyes, honour her strange severity, her extreme courtesy, like a Queen鈥檚 raising from the mud to wash a beggar鈥檚 dirty foot, when she thus admonished them so very severely about that wretched atheist who had chased them - or, speaking accurately, been invited to stay with them - in the Isles of Skye.
I stopped reading.
I see many 5 ratings. If anyone who loved it wants to offer a reason why I should continue reading, I am open to hear it.
So I started, and on page 6, I came to this sentence 鈥�
She was now formidable to behold, and it was only in silence, looking up from their plates, after she had spoken so severely about Charles Tansley, that her daughters, Prue, Nancy, Rose - could sport with infidel ideas which they had brewed for themselves of a life different from hers; in Paris, perhaps; a wilder life; not always taking care of some man or other; for there was in all their minds a mute questioning of deference and chivalry, of the Bank of England and the Indian Empire, of ringed fingers and lace, though to them all there was something in this of the essence of beauty, which called out the manliness in their girlish hearts, and made them, as they sat at the table beneath their mother鈥檚 eyes, honour her strange severity, her extreme courtesy, like a Queen鈥檚 raising from the mud to wash a beggar鈥檚 dirty foot, when she thus admonished them so very severely about that wretched atheist who had chased them - or, speaking accurately, been invited to stay with them - in the Isles of Skye.
I stopped reading.
I see many 5 ratings. If anyone who loved it wants to offer a reason why I should continue reading, I am open to hear it.
September 28, 2021
賮 乇 丕 賲 賵 卮
禺 賵 丕 賴 蹖
卮 丿...*
丿乇 氐賮丨賴 亘賴 氐賮丨賴 賵 讴賱賲賴 亘賴 讴賱賲賴鈥屰� 讴鬲丕亘貙 氐丿丕蹖蹖 賲蹖鈥屫①呚� 賵 亘賴 賳噩賵丕 趩蹖夭蹖 賲蹖鈥屭佖�. 賴賲乇丕賴 禺乇賵卮 丕賲賵丕噩 賳丕賱賴鈥屫й� 爻乇 賲蹖鈥屫ж� 賵 亘毓丿 賳丕倬丿蹖丿 賲蹖鈥屫簇�. 氐丿丕蹖蹖 夭賳丕賳賴 亘賵丿. 诏賵蹖蹖 賴乇诏夭 賳亘賵丿賴. 賵 丕诏乇 賴賲 亘賵丿 丿蹖乇蹖 賳讴卮蹖丿賴 亘賵丿... 賴賲趩賵賳 诏購賱蹖 讴賴 卮讴賵賮賴 賲蹖鈥屫囏� 賵 爻乇蹖毓 賲蹖鈥屬沮樫呝徹必�...賴賲趩賵賳 倬乇賵丕賳賴鈥屫й� 讴賴 賮賯胤 蹖讴 乇賵夭 丕夭 夭蹖亘丕蹖蹖鈥屫ж� 乇丕 夭賳丿诏蹖 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀�!
亘丕乇賴丕 丕夭 禺賵丿賲 倬乇爻蹖丿賲 丌蹖丕 丕诏乇 诏購賱 賴賵卮蹖丕乇 亘賵丿 芦禺丕賳賵賲 丿賱賵賵蹖禄 乇丕 賳賲蹖鈥屬嗁堌簇�...賵 倬乇賵丕賳賴 賴賲 芦丕鬲丕賯 噩蹖讴賵亘禄 乇丕...賵 賲賵噩 賴賲 芦亘賴 爻賵蹖 賮丕賳賵爻 丿乇蹖丕蹖蹖禄 乇丕責
丌乇蹖 丕蹖賳 氐丿丕貙 氐丿丕蹖 賵蹖乇噩蹖賳蹖丕 賵賵賱賮 亘賵丿...氐丿丕蹖蹖 讴賴 亘丕 禺賵丿卮 夭蹖乇 丌亘 亘購乇丿 鬲丕 丿蹖诏乇 讴爻蹖 乇丕 丕夭 禺賵丕亘 亘蹖丿丕乇 賳讴賳丿 亘賴 讴丕亘賵爻 亘蹖丿丕乇蹖...卮丕蹖丿 丕诏乇 賯丿乇鬲卮 乇丕 丿丕卮鬲 鬲賲丕賲 讴鬲丕亘鈥屬囏й屫� 乇丕 賴賲 亘丕 禺賵丿卮 睾乇賯 賲蹖鈥屭┴必�...鬲丕 賳讴賳丿 蹖讴 賱丨馗賴 蹖丕丿賲丕賳 亘蹖丕蹖丿 丌賳趩賴 乇丕 賮乇丕賲賵卮 讴乇丿賴鈥屫й屬�!!!
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卮毓乇蹖 丕夭 賲丨賲賵丿 丿乇賵蹖卮:
賮乇丕賲賵卮 禺賵丕赖蹖 卮丿
丕賳诏丕乇 讴賴 賴乇诏夭 賳亘賵丿賴 丕蹖
賮乇丕賲賵卮 禺賵丕赖蹖 卮丿
丕賳诏丕乇 讴賴 賳賴 賮乇丿蹖 亘賵丿賴鈥屫й�
賵 賳賴 丨鬲蹖 蹖讴 賲鬲賳貙
賵 賮乇丕賲賵卮
禺賵丕赖蹖
卮丿
禺 賵 丕 賴 蹖
卮 丿...*
丿乇 氐賮丨賴 亘賴 氐賮丨賴 賵 讴賱賲賴 亘賴 讴賱賲賴鈥屰� 讴鬲丕亘貙 氐丿丕蹖蹖 賲蹖鈥屫①呚� 賵 亘賴 賳噩賵丕 趩蹖夭蹖 賲蹖鈥屭佖�. 賴賲乇丕賴 禺乇賵卮 丕賲賵丕噩 賳丕賱賴鈥屫й� 爻乇 賲蹖鈥屫ж� 賵 亘毓丿 賳丕倬丿蹖丿 賲蹖鈥屫簇�. 氐丿丕蹖蹖 夭賳丕賳賴 亘賵丿. 诏賵蹖蹖 賴乇诏夭 賳亘賵丿賴. 賵 丕诏乇 賴賲 亘賵丿 丿蹖乇蹖 賳讴卮蹖丿賴 亘賵丿... 賴賲趩賵賳 诏購賱蹖 讴賴 卮讴賵賮賴 賲蹖鈥屫囏� 賵 爻乇蹖毓 賲蹖鈥屬沮樫呝徹必�...賴賲趩賵賳 倬乇賵丕賳賴鈥屫й� 讴賴 賮賯胤 蹖讴 乇賵夭 丕夭 夭蹖亘丕蹖蹖鈥屫ж� 乇丕 夭賳丿诏蹖 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀�!
亘丕乇賴丕 丕夭 禺賵丿賲 倬乇爻蹖丿賲 丌蹖丕 丕诏乇 诏購賱 賴賵卮蹖丕乇 亘賵丿 芦禺丕賳賵賲 丿賱賵賵蹖禄 乇丕 賳賲蹖鈥屬嗁堌簇�...賵 倬乇賵丕賳賴 賴賲 芦丕鬲丕賯 噩蹖讴賵亘禄 乇丕...賵 賲賵噩 賴賲 芦亘賴 爻賵蹖 賮丕賳賵爻 丿乇蹖丕蹖蹖禄 乇丕責
丌乇蹖 丕蹖賳 氐丿丕貙 氐丿丕蹖 賵蹖乇噩蹖賳蹖丕 賵賵賱賮 亘賵丿...氐丿丕蹖蹖 讴賴 亘丕 禺賵丿卮 夭蹖乇 丌亘 亘購乇丿 鬲丕 丿蹖诏乇 讴爻蹖 乇丕 丕夭 禺賵丕亘 亘蹖丿丕乇 賳讴賳丿 亘賴 讴丕亘賵爻 亘蹖丿丕乇蹖...卮丕蹖丿 丕诏乇 賯丿乇鬲卮 乇丕 丿丕卮鬲 鬲賲丕賲 讴鬲丕亘鈥屬囏й屫� 乇丕 賴賲 亘丕 禺賵丿卮 睾乇賯 賲蹖鈥屭┴必�...鬲丕 賳讴賳丿 蹖讴 賱丨馗賴 蹖丕丿賲丕賳 亘蹖丕蹖丿 丌賳趩賴 乇丕 賮乇丕賲賵卮 讴乇丿賴鈥屫й屬�!!!
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卮毓乇蹖 丕夭 賲丨賲賵丿 丿乇賵蹖卮:
賮乇丕賲賵卮 禺賵丕赖蹖 卮丿
丕賳诏丕乇 讴賴 賴乇诏夭 賳亘賵丿賴 丕蹖
賮乇丕賲賵卮 禺賵丕赖蹖 卮丿
丕賳诏丕乇 讴賴 賳賴 賮乇丿蹖 亘賵丿賴鈥屫й�
賵 賳賴 丨鬲蹖 蹖讴 賲鬲賳貙
賵 賮乇丕賲賵卮
禺賵丕赖蹖
卮丿
November 25, 2017
芦螕喂伪蟿委 螒谓 螖蔚谓 螝慰喂蟿维蟼 螘魏蔚委 螤慰蠀 螛蔚蟼 螡伪 螤伪蟼, 螛伪 螤伪蟼 螘魏蔚委 螤慰蠀 螝慰喂蟿维蟼禄 <鈥�> 螠苇蠂蟻喂 韦慰 桅维蟻慰...
韦慰 蟿伪尉委未喂 蟺蟻慰蟼 蟿慰 桅维蟻慰 蔚委谓伪喂 魏伪蟿维 蟿畏谓 维蟺慰蠄畏 渭慰蠀 渭喂伪 伪蠀蟿慰蔚魏蟺位畏蟻慰蠉渭蔚谓畏 蟺蟻慰蠁畏蟿蔚委伪.
螆谓伪 魏委谓畏蟿蟻慰 蟺蟻慰蟼 苇谓伪 蟽蟿蠈蠂慰. 螠喂伪 蟺蟻蠈尾位蔚蠄畏, 蟺慰蠀 慰蠀蟽喂伪蟽蟿喂魏维 渭苇蟽伪 伪蟺慰 蟿畏 蠂蟻慰谓喂魏萎 蟺慰蟻蔚委伪 蟿蠅谓 纬蔚纬慰谓蠈蟿蠅谓, 蟺蟻慰魏伪位蔚委蟿伪喂 畏 蟺蟻伪纬渭维蟿蠅蟽畏 蟿畏蟼 渭蔚 未喂蠁慰蟻慰蠉渭蔚谓畏 蟽畏渭伪蟽委伪.
螒谓 蔚蟺喂未蟻维蟽慰蠀谓 胃蔚蟿喂魏维 畏 蟺蔚蟺慰委胃畏蟽畏 魏伪喂 畏 蟽蠀渭蟺蔚蟻喂蠁慰蟻维 蟿蠈蟿蔚 蟺蟻伪纬渭伪蟿慰蟺慰喂蔚委蟿伪喂 渭蔚 蔚蟺喂蟿蠀蠂委伪 畏 蔚蟺委蟿蔚蠀尉畏 蟿慰蠀 蟽蟿蠈蠂慰蠀 伪魏蠈渭畏 魏喂 伪谓 蟺蟻蠈魏蔚喂蟿伪喂 纬喂伪 渭喂伪 蠂委渭伪喂蟻伪. 螚 蟽伪纬畏谓蔚蠀蟿喂魏萎 位维渭蠄畏 蟿慰蠀 蠁维蟻慰蠀 蟿蠅谓 蔚蟺喂胃蠀渭喂蠋谓 蟽慰蠀 ( 魏蟻蠀蠁蠋谓 萎 伪蟺伪纬慰蟻蔚蠀渭苇谓蠅谓) 蟽蔚 蟺蟻慰蟽魏伪位蔚委 谓伪 蟿畏谓 蟺位畏蟽喂维蟽蔚喂蟼 芦蟿蠋蟻伪禄
-蟺蟻慰蟽未喂慰蟻喂蟽渭蠈蟼 蠂蟻蠈谓慰蠀- 维渭蔚蟽伪, 苇纬魏伪喂蟻伪, 胃伪蟻伪位位苇伪.
螒谓 蟿慰 伪谓伪尾维位位蔚喂蟼 蠂蟻慰谓喂魏维 蔚位蟺委味慰谓蟿伪蟼 蟽蔚 魏伪位蠉蟿蔚蟻蔚蟼 蟽蠀谓胃萎魏蔚蟼 萎 未喂伪喂蠅谓委味慰谓蟿伪蟼 蟿畏谓 魏蠀蟻喂伪蟻蠂委伪 蟿蠅谓 蟺蟻慰蟽蠅蟺喂魏蠋谓 蟽慰蠀 蠁蠈尾蠅谓, 畏 位伪谓胃伪蟽渭苇谓畏 苇谓蠅蟽畏 蟺蔚蟺慰委胃畏蟽畏蟼 魏伪喂 蟽蠀渭蟺蔚蟻喂蠁慰蟻维蟼 胃伪 蟽蔚 蟺维谓蔚 蔚魏蔚委 蟺慰蠀 魏慰喂蟿维蟼.... 伪蠁慰蠉 蟿蠀蠁位蠋胃畏魏蔚蟼 伪蟺慰 蟿慰 蠁蠅蟼 蟿蠅谓 慰谓蔚委蟻蠅谓 蟽慰蠀 魏伪喂 慰喂魏蔚喂慰胃蔚位蠋蟼 魏伪蟿苇蟽蟿蟻蔚蠄蔚蟼 蟿畏谓 蔚蠀魏伪喂蟻委伪 谓伪 魏慰喂蟿维蟼 渭蠈谓慰 蔚魏蔚委 蟺慰蠀 胃蔚蟼 谓伪 蟺伪蟼.
螒谓 胃蔚蟼 谓伪 味蔚蟽蟿维谓蔚喂蟼 蟿畏谓 蠄蠀蠂萎 蟽慰蠀 蟺萎纬伪喂谓蔚 伪渭苇蟽蠅蟼 蟺蟻慰蟼 蟿畏 蠁蠅蟿喂维 蟿蠅谓 慰谓蔚委蟻蠅谓 蟽慰蠀, 伪谓 蠁慰尾畏胃蔚委蟼 蟿喂蟼 蠁位蠈纬蔚蟼 魏伪喂 蟿慰 渭蔚蟿伪蠁苇蟻蔚喂蟼 蠂蟻慰谓喂魏维, 蟿蠈蟿蔚 蠁胃维谓慰谓蟿伪蟼 委蟽蠅蟼 谓伪 苇蠂蔚喂 蟽尾萎蟽蔚喂 畏 蠁蠅蟿喂维, 胃伪 尾蟻蔚喂蟼 伪蟺慰渭蔚喂谓维蟻喂伪 伪蟺慰 味蔚蟽蟿萎 蟽蟿维蠂蟿畏 萎 伪魏蠈渭畏 蠂蔚喂蟻蠈蟿蔚蟻伪 胃伪 伪喂蟽胃伪谓胃蔚委蟼 蟺位萎蟻畏 蟺伪纬蠅谓喂维.
芦危魏蔚蠁蟿蔚委蟿蔚 苇谓伪 蟿蟻伪蟺苇味喂 魏慰蠀味委谓伪蟼 蠈蟿伪谓 未蔚谓 蔚委蟽蟿蔚 蔚魏蔚委禄
螢蔚魏喂谓蠋谓蟿伪蟼 伪蠀蟿蠈 蟿慰 渭蠀胃喂蟽蟿蠈蟻畏渭伪 未蔚谓 魏伪蟿维蠁蔚蟻伪 谓伪 蔚蟻渭畏谓蔚蠉蟽蠅 蟿喂蟼 蟽魏苇蠄蔚喂蟼 伪蠀蟿萎蟼 蟿畏蟼 伪蟻蟻蠅蟽蟿畏渭苇谓伪 蠂伪蟻喂蟽渭伪蟿喂魏萎蟼 魏伪喂 蔚蠀蠁蠀苇蟽蟿伪蟿畏蟼 蟺蟻慰蟽蠅蟺喂魏蠈蟿畏蟿伪蟼. 螝伪蟿维蠁蔚蟻伪 委蟽蠅蟼 谓伪 蟿畏 纬谓蠅蟻委蟽蠅, 谓伪 苇蟻胃蠅 蟽蔚 渭喂伪 蟺蟻蠋蟿畏 蔚蟺伪蠁萎 渭蔚 蟿畏谓 位伪渭蟺蟻蠈蟿畏蟿伪 蟿慰蠀 苇蟻纬慰蠀 蟿畏蟼 Virginia Woolf 魏伪喂 谓伪 纬慰畏蟿蔚蠀蟿蠋.
螕蟻维蠁蔚喂 蟿畏 未蔚魏伪蔚蟿委伪 蟿慰蠀 1920 魏伪喂 蔚委谓伪喂 渭喂伪 蟺蟻蠅蟿慰蟺蠈蟻慰蟼 蟿畏蟼 位慰纬慰蟿蔚蠂谓委伪蟼, 渭喂伪 蔚蟺伪谓伪蟽蟿伪蟿喂魏萎 蟺苇谓伪 蟿畏蟼 芦蟽蠀谓蔚喂未畏蟽喂伪魏萎蟼 蟻慰萎蟼禄.
螚 蟺位慰魏萎 伪蟺位慰蠉蟽蟿伪蟿畏, 畏 伪蠁萎纬畏蟽畏 蟺慰位蠀未喂维蟽蟿伪蟿畏 渭苇蟽伪 伪蟺慰 未喂伪蠁慰蟻蔚蟿喂魏慰蠉蟼 蠂伪蟻伪魏蟿萎蟻蔚蟼 渭蔚 芦蔚蟽蠅蟿蔚蟻喂魏慰蠉蟼 渭慰谓慰位蠈纬慰蠀蟼禄.
螖蔚谓 蠀蟺维蟻蠂蔚喂 未蟻维蟽畏 萎 蟺蔚蟻喂蟺苇蟿蔚喂伪 渭苇蟽伪 蟽蟿慰 尾喂尾位委慰, 蠀蟺维蟻蠂蔚喂 蠈渭蠅蟼 味蠅萎.
螞蔚委蟺蔚喂 畏 蔚谓苇蟻纬蔚喂伪 蟽蔚 蠈位伪 蟿伪 蔚蟺委蟺蔚未伪 蠈渭蠅蟼 蠀蟺维蟻蠂蔚喂 苇谓蟿慰谓伪 畏 蟺蟻慰蟽苇位魏蠀蟽畏 纬喂伪 蔚谓未慰蟽魏蠈蟺畏蟽畏 魏伪喂 蟽蟿慰蠂伪蟽渭蠈.
螖蔚谓 蠀蟺维蟻蠂蔚喂 魏伪谓苇谓伪 蠁伪谓蟿伪蠂蟿蔚蟻蠈 萎 伪纬蠅谓喂蠋未蔚蟼 蟽蟿慰喂蠂蔚委慰 蟺位慰魏萎蟼 魏伪喂 蔚尉苇位喂尉畏蟼.
螚 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁苇伪蟼 苇纬蟻伪蠄蔚 纬喂伪 蔚谓萎位喂魏蔚蟼 伪谓伪纬谓蠋蟽蟿蔚蟼 魏伪喂 胃伪 伪谓伪渭苇谓蔚喂 蟺维谓蟿伪 伪蟺慰 蟿慰蠀蟼 蔚谓萎位喂魏蔚蟼 谓伪 魏伪蟿伪位维尾慰蠀谓 蟿喂 苇纬蟻伪蠄蔚.
违蠁伪委谓蔚喂 渭蔚 伪蟻喂蟽蟿慰蠀蟻纬畏渭伪蟿喂魏萎 蟿蔚蠂谓喂魏萎 蔚蟺喂未蔚尉喂蠈蟿畏蟿伪 魏伪喂 蟺慰喂畏蟿喂魏萎 慰渭慰蟻蠁喂维 纬蟻萎纬慰蟻蔚蟼 魏伪喂 蠁蔚蠀纬伪位苇蔚蟼 蔚谓蟿蠀蟺蠋蟽蔚喂蟼 蟿慰蠀 蟺蔚蟻喂尾维位位慰谓蟿慰蟼 蟿蠅谓 畏蟻蠋蠅谓, 蠂伪蟻维味慰谓蟿伪蟼 渭蔚 苇谓蟿慰谓慰 蟺谓蔚蠉渭伪 蔚魏蟿喂渭萎蟽蔚喂蟼 伪谓蟿喂魏蔚喂渭苇谓蠅谓 魏伪喂 伪谓伪渭谓萎蟽蔚蠅谓 蟽蔚 蟽蠀谓维蟻蟿畏蟽畏 渭蔚 蟿慰 蠂蟻慰谓喂魏蠈 蠂维慰蟼.
螠苇蟽伪 伪蟺慰 蟽魏苇蠄蔚喂蟼, 蠈谓蔚喂蟻伪 魏伪喂 蟽蠀谓蔚喂未萎蟽蔚喂蟼 渭蔚蟿伪蟿慰蟺委味蔚喂 蟿喂蟼 伪谓蟿喂位萎蠄蔚喂蟼 蟿蠅谓 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺蠅谓, 伪蟺慰魏伪位蠉蟺蟿蔚喂 蟿喂蟼 蔚蟽蠅蟿蔚蟻喂魏苇蟼 蟺蟿蠀蠂苇蟼 魏伪喂 蟿喂蟼 维蟽蟿慰蠂蔚蟼 蟽蠀渭蟺蔚蟻喂蠁慰蟻苇蟼 伪蠀蟿蠋谓 蟺慰蠀 苇蠂慰蠀谓 蟿畏谓 蟿维蟽畏 谓伪 蟽魏苇蠁蟿慰谓蟿伪喂 魏维蟿喂 蟽蠀纬魏蔚魏蟻喂渭苇谓慰 渭伪 谓伪 位苇谓蔚 魏维蟿喂 维位位慰.
韦慰 尾喂尾位委慰 伪蠀蟿蠈, 蟽蠂蔚未蠈谓 苇谓伪谓 伪喂蠋谓伪 渭蔚蟿伪 蟿畏 未畏渭喂慰蠀蟻纬委伪 蟿慰蠀 未喂伪蟿畏蟻蔚委 蟿畏 蟽蠀谓维蠁蔚喂伪 魏伪喂 蟿畏 未蠉谓伪渭畏 谓伪 渭伪蟼 蟺蟻慰魏伪位苇蟽蔚喂, 谓伪 渭伪蟼 伪蟺慰魏伪位蠉蠄蔚喂 渭蔚 蟺蟻蠅蟿蠈蟿蠀蟺慰 蟿蟻蠈蟺慰 蟺蟿蠀蠂苇蟼 蟿蠅谓 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺喂谓蠅谓 蟽蠂苇蟽蔚蠅谓 蠁胃维谓慰谓蟿伪蟼 蠅蟼 蟿慰 谓蠈畏渭伪 蟿畏蟼 蠉蟺伪蟻尉畏蟼.
螚 伪蠁萎纬畏蟽畏 魏伪位蠉蟺蟿蔚喂 未蠀慰 尉蔚蠂蠅蟻喂蟽蟿苇蟼 渭苇蟻蔚蟼 蟺慰蠀 未喂伪蠂蠅蟻委味慰谓蟿伪喂 蠂蟻慰谓喂魏维. 螒谓维渭蔚蟽伪 蟿慰蠀蟼 渭蔚蟽慰位伪尾慰蠉谓 未苇魏伪 蠂蟻蠈谓喂伪.
危蔚 苇谓伪 谓畏蟽委,蟽蟿慰 蔚尉慰蠂喂魏蠈 蟽蟺委蟿喂 魏慰谓蟿维 蟽蟿慰 蠁维蟻慰 未畏渭喂慰蠀蟻纬蔚委蟿伪喂 蟿慰 蟺慰蟻蟿蟻苇蟿慰 渭喂伪蟼 味蔚蟽蟿萎蟼 魏伪喂 慰喂魏蔚委伪蟼 慰喂魏慰纬苇谓蔚喂伪蟼 - 纬慰谓蔚委蟼, 慰魏蟿蠋 蟺伪喂未喂维- 魏伪喂 蟿蠅谓 蠁委位蠅谓 蟺慰蠀 蠁喂位慰尉蔚谓慰蠉谓 伪蟺慰位伪渭尾维谓慰谓蟿伪蟼 蟺伪蟻苇伪 蟿喂蟼 魏伪位慰魏伪喂蟻喂谓苇蟼 未喂伪魏慰蟺苇蟼.
螌位慰喂 蟽蠀谓蔚喂蟽蠁苇蟻慰蠀谓 蟿喂蟼 蟽魏苇蠄蔚喂蟼 蟿慰蠀蟼.
螚 魏伪胃畏渭蔚蟻喂谓蠈蟿畏蟿伪 蠀蟺慰纬蟻伪渭渭委味蔚喂 蟺慰喂魏委位蔚蟼 魏慰喂谓蠅谓喂魏苇蟼 魏伪蟿伪蟽蟿维蟽蔚喂蟼 魏伪喂 蟺蟻慰伪谓伪纬纬苇位蔚喂 蟿慰 蟻蠈位慰 蟿蠅谓 纬蠀谓伪喂魏蠋谓 蟽蟿畏 味蠅萎 蔚谓蟿蠈蟼 萎 蔚魏蟿蠈蟼 纬维渭慰蠀 魏伪胃蠋蟼 魏伪喂 蟿畏 胃苇蟽畏 蟿畏蟼 纬蠀谓伪委魏伪蟼 蟽蟿畏谓 魏伪位位喂蟿蔚蠂谓喂魏萎 魏伪喂 未畏渭喂慰蠀蟻纬喂魏萎 蟺慰蟻蔚委伪.
违蟺维蟻蠂蔚喂 苇谓蟿慰谓畏 伪谓蟿伪谓维魏位伪蟽畏 蟿慰蠀 蟺谓蔚蠀渭伪蟿喂魏慰蠉 魏位委渭伪蟿慰蟼 蟿畏蟼 螒纬纬位委伪蟼 蟺蟻喂谓 蟿慰谓 螁 螤伪纬魏蠈蟽渭喂慰 蟺蠈位蔚渭慰 魏伪胃蠋蟼 魏伪喂 蟿畏谓 蔚蟺喂胃蠀渭委伪 蟺慰位位蠋谓 蠁喂位慰蟽蠈蠁蠅谓 魏伪喂 蟽蟿慰蠂伪蟽蟿蠋谓 谓伪 蔚蟺喂尾喂蠋蟽蔚喂 畏 蟺谓蔚蠀渭伪蟿喂魏萎 蟿慰蠀蟼 魏位畏蟻慰谓慰渭喂维.
螚 蟽魏苇蠄畏 蟿慰蠀 蠂蟻蠈谓慰蠀 蔚谓蟿慰谓蠈蟿伪蟿畏. 螌位伪 蠀蟺慰蠂蠅蟻慰蠉谓, 蠁胃蔚委蟻慰谓蟿伪喂, 伪蟺慰蟽蠀谓蟿委胃蔚谓蟿伪喂 魏伪喂 渭蔚蟿伪尾维位位慰谓蟿伪喂 渭苇蠂蟻喂 胃伪谓维蟿慰蠀.
危蟿伪胃蔚蟻蠈蟼 蟺伪蟻维纬慰谓蟿伪蟼 慰 桅维蟻慰蟼. 螁蟺位蔚蟿畏 畏 胃苇伪 蟿畏蟼 渭蔚纬伪位慰蟺蟻苇蟺蔚喂伪蟼 蟿慰蠀 伪谓 魏慰喂蟿维蟼 伪蟺慰 蟿慰 蟺伪蟻维胃蠀蟻慰 蟿慰蠀 蟽蟺喂蟿喂慰蠉 蟺蟻慰蟼 伪蠀蟿蠈谓.
螠蔚蟽慰位伪尾蔚委 渭喂伪 纬苇蠁蠀蟻伪 未苇魏伪 蠂蟻蠈谓蠅谓. 危蟿畏蟻委味蔚喂 蟺维谓蠅 蟿畏蟼 苇谓伪谓 蟺蠈位蔚渭慰, 蟿畏 蠁蠀蟽喂魏萎 蠁胃慰蟻维 蟿蠅谓 蟺蟻伪纬渭维蟿蠅谓 魏伪喂 蟿慰 胃维谓伪蟿慰 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺蠅谓 魏伪喂 伪谓蔚魏蟺位萎蟻蠅蟿蠅谓 未蠀谓伪蟿慰蟿萎蟿蠅谓.
螚 未蔚蠉蟿蔚蟻畏 渭苇蟻伪 未喂伪未蟻伪渭伪蟿委味蔚蟿伪喂 伪魏蟻喂尾蠋蟼 蟽蟿慰 委未喂慰 谓畏蟽委, 蟽蟿慰 委未喂慰 蟽蟺委蟿喂 渭蔚 蟿慰蠀蟼 委未喂慰蠀蟼 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺慰蠀蟼 魏伪喂 蟿喂蟼 委未喂蔚蟼 蔚蟺喂胃蠀渭委蔚蟼. 韦慰 芦委未喂慰禄 渭蔚蟿维 伪蟺慰 未苇魏伪 蠂蟻蠈谓喂伪 蔚委谓伪喂 伪蟺委蟽蟿蔚蠀蟿伪 未喂伪蠁慰蟻蔚蟿喂魏蠈.
螛维谓伪蟿慰蟼, 蔚渭蟺蔚喂蟻委蔚蟼, 魏伪蟿伪蟽蟿蟻慰蠁苇蟼, 蠁胃慰蟻维 蠀位喂魏蠋谓 魏伪喂 慰谓蔚委蟻蠅谓.
韦蠋蟻伪 蟺蟻蠅蟿伪纬蠅谓喂蟽蟿蔚委 畏 蔚喂蟻蠅谓蔚委伪 蟺慰蠀 蠂伪渭慰纬蔚位维蔚喂 蟽伪蟻魏伪蟽蟿喂魏维 蟽蔚 蠈蟽慰蠀蟼 伪蟺苇渭蔚喂谓伪谓 谓伪 伪蟺慰蟿蟻苇蟺慰蠀谓 魏伪喂 谓伪 伪谓伪尾维位位慰蠀谓 蟺喂蟽蟿蔚蠉慰谓蟿伪蟼 蟽蟿畏谓 伪喂蠅谓喂蠈蟿畏蟿伪 蟿畏蟼 蠉蟺伪蟻尉畏蟼 魏伪喂 蟿蠅谓 蔚蠀魏伪喂蟻喂蠋谓.
螒魏蠈渭畏 魏伪喂 畏 蟺慰位蠀蟺蠈胃畏蟿畏 蔚魏未蟻慰渭萎 蟺蟻慰蟼 蟿慰 蠁维蟻慰 蟺慰蠀 纬委谓蔚蟿伪喂 渭蔚 蟺位蔚慰蠉渭蔚谓慰 蟿畏谓 蟿蟻伪纬喂魏萎 蔚喂蟻蠅谓蔚委伪, 苇蠂蔚喂 蠅蟼 蟿伪尉委未喂 蟺慰位蠉 未喂伪蠁慰蟻蔚蟿喂魏萎 蟽畏渭伪蟽委伪.
螝伪渭委伪 慰渭慰喂慰渭慰蟻蠁委伪 魏伪喂 魏伪渭委伪 蔚谓慰蟺慰喂畏蟿喂魏萎 蠁蠅谓萎 蟽蟿伪 渭苇蟻畏 伪蠀蟿慰蠉 蟿慰蠀 渭蠀胃喂蟽蟿慰蟻萎渭伪蟿慰蟼, 蟺慰蠀 位蔚喂蟿慰蠀蟻纬蔚委 蠈渭蠅蟼 维蟻喂蟽蟿伪, 蟽蠀位位伪渭尾维谓慰谓蟿伪蟼 蟿慰 蟺苇蟻伪蟽渭伪 蟿慰蠀 蠂蟻蠈谓慰蠀 魏伪喂 蟿畏蟼 蟿蟻慰蟺慰蟺慰喂畏渭苇谓畏蟼 蠁喂位慰蟽慰蠁喂魏萎蟼 蟻慰萎蟼 渭苇蟽伪 伪蟺慰 蟿喂蟼 蟽蠀谓蔚喂未萎蟽蔚喂蟼 蟿蠅谓 蠂伪蟻伪魏蟿萎蟻蠅谓.
螚 蟽蠀谓慰位喂魏萎 蔚蟺委未蟻伪蟽畏 蔚委谓伪喂 喂蟽蠂蠀蟻萎 魏伪喂 畏 位蠀蟻喂魏萎 蟺蔚味慰纬蟻伪蠁委伪 蟿畏蟼 Virginia Woolf 渭伪蟼 味蠅纬蟻伪蠁委味蔚喂 渭蔚 蟺慰位位维 蠂蟻蠋渭伪蟿伪 位苇尉蔚蠅谓 苇谓伪 蟺慰位蠉 蟺蟻慰蟽蠅蟺喂魏蠈 蟺慰蟻蟿蟻苇蟿慰 味蠅萎蟼.
螝伪位萎 伪谓维纬谓蠅蟽畏.
螤慰位位慰蠉蟼 伪蟽蟺伪蟽渭慰蠉蟼.
韦慰 蟿伪尉委未喂 蟺蟻慰蟼 蟿慰 桅维蟻慰 蔚委谓伪喂 魏伪蟿维 蟿畏谓 维蟺慰蠄畏 渭慰蠀 渭喂伪 伪蠀蟿慰蔚魏蟺位畏蟻慰蠉渭蔚谓畏 蟺蟻慰蠁畏蟿蔚委伪.
螆谓伪 魏委谓畏蟿蟻慰 蟺蟻慰蟼 苇谓伪 蟽蟿蠈蠂慰. 螠喂伪 蟺蟻蠈尾位蔚蠄畏, 蟺慰蠀 慰蠀蟽喂伪蟽蟿喂魏维 渭苇蟽伪 伪蟺慰 蟿畏 蠂蟻慰谓喂魏萎 蟺慰蟻蔚委伪 蟿蠅谓 纬蔚纬慰谓蠈蟿蠅谓, 蟺蟻慰魏伪位蔚委蟿伪喂 畏 蟺蟻伪纬渭维蟿蠅蟽畏 蟿畏蟼 渭蔚 未喂蠁慰蟻慰蠉渭蔚谓畏 蟽畏渭伪蟽委伪.
螒谓 蔚蟺喂未蟻维蟽慰蠀谓 胃蔚蟿喂魏维 畏 蟺蔚蟺慰委胃畏蟽畏 魏伪喂 畏 蟽蠀渭蟺蔚蟻喂蠁慰蟻维 蟿蠈蟿蔚 蟺蟻伪纬渭伪蟿慰蟺慰喂蔚委蟿伪喂 渭蔚 蔚蟺喂蟿蠀蠂委伪 畏 蔚蟺委蟿蔚蠀尉畏 蟿慰蠀 蟽蟿蠈蠂慰蠀 伪魏蠈渭畏 魏喂 伪谓 蟺蟻蠈魏蔚喂蟿伪喂 纬喂伪 渭喂伪 蠂委渭伪喂蟻伪. 螚 蟽伪纬畏谓蔚蠀蟿喂魏萎 位维渭蠄畏 蟿慰蠀 蠁维蟻慰蠀 蟿蠅谓 蔚蟺喂胃蠀渭喂蠋谓 蟽慰蠀 ( 魏蟻蠀蠁蠋谓 萎 伪蟺伪纬慰蟻蔚蠀渭苇谓蠅谓) 蟽蔚 蟺蟻慰蟽魏伪位蔚委 谓伪 蟿畏谓 蟺位畏蟽喂维蟽蔚喂蟼 芦蟿蠋蟻伪禄
-蟺蟻慰蟽未喂慰蟻喂蟽渭蠈蟼 蠂蟻蠈谓慰蠀- 维渭蔚蟽伪, 苇纬魏伪喂蟻伪, 胃伪蟻伪位位苇伪.
螒谓 蟿慰 伪谓伪尾维位位蔚喂蟼 蠂蟻慰谓喂魏维 蔚位蟺委味慰谓蟿伪蟼 蟽蔚 魏伪位蠉蟿蔚蟻蔚蟼 蟽蠀谓胃萎魏蔚蟼 萎 未喂伪喂蠅谓委味慰谓蟿伪蟼 蟿畏谓 魏蠀蟻喂伪蟻蠂委伪 蟿蠅谓 蟺蟻慰蟽蠅蟺喂魏蠋谓 蟽慰蠀 蠁蠈尾蠅谓, 畏 位伪谓胃伪蟽渭苇谓畏 苇谓蠅蟽畏 蟺蔚蟺慰委胃畏蟽畏蟼 魏伪喂 蟽蠀渭蟺蔚蟻喂蠁慰蟻维蟼 胃伪 蟽蔚 蟺维谓蔚 蔚魏蔚委 蟺慰蠀 魏慰喂蟿维蟼.... 伪蠁慰蠉 蟿蠀蠁位蠋胃畏魏蔚蟼 伪蟺慰 蟿慰 蠁蠅蟼 蟿蠅谓 慰谓蔚委蟻蠅谓 蟽慰蠀 魏伪喂 慰喂魏蔚喂慰胃蔚位蠋蟼 魏伪蟿苇蟽蟿蟻蔚蠄蔚蟼 蟿畏谓 蔚蠀魏伪喂蟻委伪 谓伪 魏慰喂蟿维蟼 渭蠈谓慰 蔚魏蔚委 蟺慰蠀 胃蔚蟼 谓伪 蟺伪蟼.
螒谓 胃蔚蟼 谓伪 味蔚蟽蟿维谓蔚喂蟼 蟿畏谓 蠄蠀蠂萎 蟽慰蠀 蟺萎纬伪喂谓蔚 伪渭苇蟽蠅蟼 蟺蟻慰蟼 蟿畏 蠁蠅蟿喂维 蟿蠅谓 慰谓蔚委蟻蠅谓 蟽慰蠀, 伪谓 蠁慰尾畏胃蔚委蟼 蟿喂蟼 蠁位蠈纬蔚蟼 魏伪喂 蟿慰 渭蔚蟿伪蠁苇蟻蔚喂蟼 蠂蟻慰谓喂魏维, 蟿蠈蟿蔚 蠁胃维谓慰谓蟿伪蟼 委蟽蠅蟼 谓伪 苇蠂蔚喂 蟽尾萎蟽蔚喂 畏 蠁蠅蟿喂维, 胃伪 尾蟻蔚喂蟼 伪蟺慰渭蔚喂谓维蟻喂伪 伪蟺慰 味蔚蟽蟿萎 蟽蟿维蠂蟿畏 萎 伪魏蠈渭畏 蠂蔚喂蟻蠈蟿蔚蟻伪 胃伪 伪喂蟽胃伪谓胃蔚委蟼 蟺位萎蟻畏 蟺伪纬蠅谓喂维.
芦危魏蔚蠁蟿蔚委蟿蔚 苇谓伪 蟿蟻伪蟺苇味喂 魏慰蠀味委谓伪蟼 蠈蟿伪谓 未蔚谓 蔚委蟽蟿蔚 蔚魏蔚委禄
螢蔚魏喂谓蠋谓蟿伪蟼 伪蠀蟿蠈 蟿慰 渭蠀胃喂蟽蟿蠈蟻畏渭伪 未蔚谓 魏伪蟿维蠁蔚蟻伪 谓伪 蔚蟻渭畏谓蔚蠉蟽蠅 蟿喂蟼 蟽魏苇蠄蔚喂蟼 伪蠀蟿萎蟼 蟿畏蟼 伪蟻蟻蠅蟽蟿畏渭苇谓伪 蠂伪蟻喂蟽渭伪蟿喂魏萎蟼 魏伪喂 蔚蠀蠁蠀苇蟽蟿伪蟿畏蟼 蟺蟻慰蟽蠅蟺喂魏蠈蟿畏蟿伪蟼. 螝伪蟿维蠁蔚蟻伪 委蟽蠅蟼 谓伪 蟿畏 纬谓蠅蟻委蟽蠅, 谓伪 苇蟻胃蠅 蟽蔚 渭喂伪 蟺蟻蠋蟿畏 蔚蟺伪蠁萎 渭蔚 蟿畏谓 位伪渭蟺蟻蠈蟿畏蟿伪 蟿慰蠀 苇蟻纬慰蠀 蟿畏蟼 Virginia Woolf 魏伪喂 谓伪 纬慰畏蟿蔚蠀蟿蠋.
螕蟻维蠁蔚喂 蟿畏 未蔚魏伪蔚蟿委伪 蟿慰蠀 1920 魏伪喂 蔚委谓伪喂 渭喂伪 蟺蟻蠅蟿慰蟺蠈蟻慰蟼 蟿畏蟼 位慰纬慰蟿蔚蠂谓委伪蟼, 渭喂伪 蔚蟺伪谓伪蟽蟿伪蟿喂魏萎 蟺苇谓伪 蟿畏蟼 芦蟽蠀谓蔚喂未畏蟽喂伪魏萎蟼 蟻慰萎蟼禄.
螚 蟺位慰魏萎 伪蟺位慰蠉蟽蟿伪蟿畏, 畏 伪蠁萎纬畏蟽畏 蟺慰位蠀未喂维蟽蟿伪蟿畏 渭苇蟽伪 伪蟺慰 未喂伪蠁慰蟻蔚蟿喂魏慰蠉蟼 蠂伪蟻伪魏蟿萎蟻蔚蟼 渭蔚 芦蔚蟽蠅蟿蔚蟻喂魏慰蠉蟼 渭慰谓慰位蠈纬慰蠀蟼禄.
螖蔚谓 蠀蟺维蟻蠂蔚喂 未蟻维蟽畏 萎 蟺蔚蟻喂蟺苇蟿蔚喂伪 渭苇蟽伪 蟽蟿慰 尾喂尾位委慰, 蠀蟺维蟻蠂蔚喂 蠈渭蠅蟼 味蠅萎.
螞蔚委蟺蔚喂 畏 蔚谓苇蟻纬蔚喂伪 蟽蔚 蠈位伪 蟿伪 蔚蟺委蟺蔚未伪 蠈渭蠅蟼 蠀蟺维蟻蠂蔚喂 苇谓蟿慰谓伪 畏 蟺蟻慰蟽苇位魏蠀蟽畏 纬喂伪 蔚谓未慰蟽魏蠈蟺畏蟽畏 魏伪喂 蟽蟿慰蠂伪蟽渭蠈.
螖蔚谓 蠀蟺维蟻蠂蔚喂 魏伪谓苇谓伪 蠁伪谓蟿伪蠂蟿蔚蟻蠈 萎 伪纬蠅谓喂蠋未蔚蟼 蟽蟿慰喂蠂蔚委慰 蟺位慰魏萎蟼 魏伪喂 蔚尉苇位喂尉畏蟼.
螚 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁苇伪蟼 苇纬蟻伪蠄蔚 纬喂伪 蔚谓萎位喂魏蔚蟼 伪谓伪纬谓蠋蟽蟿蔚蟼 魏伪喂 胃伪 伪谓伪渭苇谓蔚喂 蟺维谓蟿伪 伪蟺慰 蟿慰蠀蟼 蔚谓萎位喂魏蔚蟼 谓伪 魏伪蟿伪位维尾慰蠀谓 蟿喂 苇纬蟻伪蠄蔚.
违蠁伪委谓蔚喂 渭蔚 伪蟻喂蟽蟿慰蠀蟻纬畏渭伪蟿喂魏萎 蟿蔚蠂谓喂魏萎 蔚蟺喂未蔚尉喂蠈蟿畏蟿伪 魏伪喂 蟺慰喂畏蟿喂魏萎 慰渭慰蟻蠁喂维 纬蟻萎纬慰蟻蔚蟼 魏伪喂 蠁蔚蠀纬伪位苇蔚蟼 蔚谓蟿蠀蟺蠋蟽蔚喂蟼 蟿慰蠀 蟺蔚蟻喂尾维位位慰谓蟿慰蟼 蟿蠅谓 畏蟻蠋蠅谓, 蠂伪蟻维味慰谓蟿伪蟼 渭蔚 苇谓蟿慰谓慰 蟺谓蔚蠉渭伪 蔚魏蟿喂渭萎蟽蔚喂蟼 伪谓蟿喂魏蔚喂渭苇谓蠅谓 魏伪喂 伪谓伪渭谓萎蟽蔚蠅谓 蟽蔚 蟽蠀谓维蟻蟿畏蟽畏 渭蔚 蟿慰 蠂蟻慰谓喂魏蠈 蠂维慰蟼.
螠苇蟽伪 伪蟺慰 蟽魏苇蠄蔚喂蟼, 蠈谓蔚喂蟻伪 魏伪喂 蟽蠀谓蔚喂未萎蟽蔚喂蟼 渭蔚蟿伪蟿慰蟺委味蔚喂 蟿喂蟼 伪谓蟿喂位萎蠄蔚喂蟼 蟿蠅谓 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺蠅谓, 伪蟺慰魏伪位蠉蟺蟿蔚喂 蟿喂蟼 蔚蟽蠅蟿蔚蟻喂魏苇蟼 蟺蟿蠀蠂苇蟼 魏伪喂 蟿喂蟼 维蟽蟿慰蠂蔚蟼 蟽蠀渭蟺蔚蟻喂蠁慰蟻苇蟼 伪蠀蟿蠋谓 蟺慰蠀 苇蠂慰蠀谓 蟿畏谓 蟿维蟽畏 谓伪 蟽魏苇蠁蟿慰谓蟿伪喂 魏维蟿喂 蟽蠀纬魏蔚魏蟻喂渭苇谓慰 渭伪 谓伪 位苇谓蔚 魏维蟿喂 维位位慰.
韦慰 尾喂尾位委慰 伪蠀蟿蠈, 蟽蠂蔚未蠈谓 苇谓伪谓 伪喂蠋谓伪 渭蔚蟿伪 蟿畏 未畏渭喂慰蠀蟻纬委伪 蟿慰蠀 未喂伪蟿畏蟻蔚委 蟿畏 蟽蠀谓维蠁蔚喂伪 魏伪喂 蟿畏 未蠉谓伪渭畏 谓伪 渭伪蟼 蟺蟻慰魏伪位苇蟽蔚喂, 谓伪 渭伪蟼 伪蟺慰魏伪位蠉蠄蔚喂 渭蔚 蟺蟻蠅蟿蠈蟿蠀蟺慰 蟿蟻蠈蟺慰 蟺蟿蠀蠂苇蟼 蟿蠅谓 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺喂谓蠅谓 蟽蠂苇蟽蔚蠅谓 蠁胃维谓慰谓蟿伪蟼 蠅蟼 蟿慰 谓蠈畏渭伪 蟿畏蟼 蠉蟺伪蟻尉畏蟼.
螚 伪蠁萎纬畏蟽畏 魏伪位蠉蟺蟿蔚喂 未蠀慰 尉蔚蠂蠅蟻喂蟽蟿苇蟼 渭苇蟻蔚蟼 蟺慰蠀 未喂伪蠂蠅蟻委味慰谓蟿伪喂 蠂蟻慰谓喂魏维. 螒谓维渭蔚蟽伪 蟿慰蠀蟼 渭蔚蟽慰位伪尾慰蠉谓 未苇魏伪 蠂蟻蠈谓喂伪.
危蔚 苇谓伪 谓畏蟽委,蟽蟿慰 蔚尉慰蠂喂魏蠈 蟽蟺委蟿喂 魏慰谓蟿维 蟽蟿慰 蠁维蟻慰 未畏渭喂慰蠀蟻纬蔚委蟿伪喂 蟿慰 蟺慰蟻蟿蟻苇蟿慰 渭喂伪蟼 味蔚蟽蟿萎蟼 魏伪喂 慰喂魏蔚委伪蟼 慰喂魏慰纬苇谓蔚喂伪蟼 - 纬慰谓蔚委蟼, 慰魏蟿蠋 蟺伪喂未喂维- 魏伪喂 蟿蠅谓 蠁委位蠅谓 蟺慰蠀 蠁喂位慰尉蔚谓慰蠉谓 伪蟺慰位伪渭尾维谓慰谓蟿伪蟼 蟺伪蟻苇伪 蟿喂蟼 魏伪位慰魏伪喂蟻喂谓苇蟼 未喂伪魏慰蟺苇蟼.
螌位慰喂 蟽蠀谓蔚喂蟽蠁苇蟻慰蠀谓 蟿喂蟼 蟽魏苇蠄蔚喂蟼 蟿慰蠀蟼.
螚 魏伪胃畏渭蔚蟻喂谓蠈蟿畏蟿伪 蠀蟺慰纬蟻伪渭渭委味蔚喂 蟺慰喂魏委位蔚蟼 魏慰喂谓蠅谓喂魏苇蟼 魏伪蟿伪蟽蟿维蟽蔚喂蟼 魏伪喂 蟺蟻慰伪谓伪纬纬苇位蔚喂 蟿慰 蟻蠈位慰 蟿蠅谓 纬蠀谓伪喂魏蠋谓 蟽蟿畏 味蠅萎 蔚谓蟿蠈蟼 萎 蔚魏蟿蠈蟼 纬维渭慰蠀 魏伪胃蠋蟼 魏伪喂 蟿畏 胃苇蟽畏 蟿畏蟼 纬蠀谓伪委魏伪蟼 蟽蟿畏谓 魏伪位位喂蟿蔚蠂谓喂魏萎 魏伪喂 未畏渭喂慰蠀蟻纬喂魏萎 蟺慰蟻蔚委伪.
违蟺维蟻蠂蔚喂 苇谓蟿慰谓畏 伪谓蟿伪谓维魏位伪蟽畏 蟿慰蠀 蟺谓蔚蠀渭伪蟿喂魏慰蠉 魏位委渭伪蟿慰蟼 蟿畏蟼 螒纬纬位委伪蟼 蟺蟻喂谓 蟿慰谓 螁 螤伪纬魏蠈蟽渭喂慰 蟺蠈位蔚渭慰 魏伪胃蠋蟼 魏伪喂 蟿畏谓 蔚蟺喂胃蠀渭委伪 蟺慰位位蠋谓 蠁喂位慰蟽蠈蠁蠅谓 魏伪喂 蟽蟿慰蠂伪蟽蟿蠋谓 谓伪 蔚蟺喂尾喂蠋蟽蔚喂 畏 蟺谓蔚蠀渭伪蟿喂魏萎 蟿慰蠀蟼 魏位畏蟻慰谓慰渭喂维.
螚 蟽魏苇蠄畏 蟿慰蠀 蠂蟻蠈谓慰蠀 蔚谓蟿慰谓蠈蟿伪蟿畏. 螌位伪 蠀蟺慰蠂蠅蟻慰蠉谓, 蠁胃蔚委蟻慰谓蟿伪喂, 伪蟺慰蟽蠀谓蟿委胃蔚谓蟿伪喂 魏伪喂 渭蔚蟿伪尾维位位慰谓蟿伪喂 渭苇蠂蟻喂 胃伪谓维蟿慰蠀.
危蟿伪胃蔚蟻蠈蟼 蟺伪蟻维纬慰谓蟿伪蟼 慰 桅维蟻慰蟼. 螁蟺位蔚蟿畏 畏 胃苇伪 蟿畏蟼 渭蔚纬伪位慰蟺蟻苇蟺蔚喂伪蟼 蟿慰蠀 伪谓 魏慰喂蟿维蟼 伪蟺慰 蟿慰 蟺伪蟻维胃蠀蟻慰 蟿慰蠀 蟽蟺喂蟿喂慰蠉 蟺蟻慰蟼 伪蠀蟿蠈谓.
螠蔚蟽慰位伪尾蔚委 渭喂伪 纬苇蠁蠀蟻伪 未苇魏伪 蠂蟻蠈谓蠅谓. 危蟿畏蟻委味蔚喂 蟺维谓蠅 蟿畏蟼 苇谓伪谓 蟺蠈位蔚渭慰, 蟿畏 蠁蠀蟽喂魏萎 蠁胃慰蟻维 蟿蠅谓 蟺蟻伪纬渭维蟿蠅谓 魏伪喂 蟿慰 胃维谓伪蟿慰 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺蠅谓 魏伪喂 伪谓蔚魏蟺位萎蟻蠅蟿蠅谓 未蠀谓伪蟿慰蟿萎蟿蠅谓.
螚 未蔚蠉蟿蔚蟻畏 渭苇蟻伪 未喂伪未蟻伪渭伪蟿委味蔚蟿伪喂 伪魏蟻喂尾蠋蟼 蟽蟿慰 委未喂慰 谓畏蟽委, 蟽蟿慰 委未喂慰 蟽蟺委蟿喂 渭蔚 蟿慰蠀蟼 委未喂慰蠀蟼 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺慰蠀蟼 魏伪喂 蟿喂蟼 委未喂蔚蟼 蔚蟺喂胃蠀渭委蔚蟼. 韦慰 芦委未喂慰禄 渭蔚蟿维 伪蟺慰 未苇魏伪 蠂蟻蠈谓喂伪 蔚委谓伪喂 伪蟺委蟽蟿蔚蠀蟿伪 未喂伪蠁慰蟻蔚蟿喂魏蠈.
螛维谓伪蟿慰蟼, 蔚渭蟺蔚喂蟻委蔚蟼, 魏伪蟿伪蟽蟿蟻慰蠁苇蟼, 蠁胃慰蟻维 蠀位喂魏蠋谓 魏伪喂 慰谓蔚委蟻蠅谓.
韦蠋蟻伪 蟺蟻蠅蟿伪纬蠅谓喂蟽蟿蔚委 畏 蔚喂蟻蠅谓蔚委伪 蟺慰蠀 蠂伪渭慰纬蔚位维蔚喂 蟽伪蟻魏伪蟽蟿喂魏维 蟽蔚 蠈蟽慰蠀蟼 伪蟺苇渭蔚喂谓伪谓 谓伪 伪蟺慰蟿蟻苇蟺慰蠀谓 魏伪喂 谓伪 伪谓伪尾维位位慰蠀谓 蟺喂蟽蟿蔚蠉慰谓蟿伪蟼 蟽蟿畏谓 伪喂蠅谓喂蠈蟿畏蟿伪 蟿畏蟼 蠉蟺伪蟻尉畏蟼 魏伪喂 蟿蠅谓 蔚蠀魏伪喂蟻喂蠋谓.
螒魏蠈渭畏 魏伪喂 畏 蟺慰位蠀蟺蠈胃畏蟿畏 蔚魏未蟻慰渭萎 蟺蟻慰蟼 蟿慰 蠁维蟻慰 蟺慰蠀 纬委谓蔚蟿伪喂 渭蔚 蟺位蔚慰蠉渭蔚谓慰 蟿畏谓 蟿蟻伪纬喂魏萎 蔚喂蟻蠅谓蔚委伪, 苇蠂蔚喂 蠅蟼 蟿伪尉委未喂 蟺慰位蠉 未喂伪蠁慰蟻蔚蟿喂魏萎 蟽畏渭伪蟽委伪.
螝伪渭委伪 慰渭慰喂慰渭慰蟻蠁委伪 魏伪喂 魏伪渭委伪 蔚谓慰蟺慰喂畏蟿喂魏萎 蠁蠅谓萎 蟽蟿伪 渭苇蟻畏 伪蠀蟿慰蠉 蟿慰蠀 渭蠀胃喂蟽蟿慰蟻萎渭伪蟿慰蟼, 蟺慰蠀 位蔚喂蟿慰蠀蟻纬蔚委 蠈渭蠅蟼 维蟻喂蟽蟿伪, 蟽蠀位位伪渭尾维谓慰谓蟿伪蟼 蟿慰 蟺苇蟻伪蟽渭伪 蟿慰蠀 蠂蟻蠈谓慰蠀 魏伪喂 蟿畏蟼 蟿蟻慰蟺慰蟺慰喂畏渭苇谓畏蟼 蠁喂位慰蟽慰蠁喂魏萎蟼 蟻慰萎蟼 渭苇蟽伪 伪蟺慰 蟿喂蟼 蟽蠀谓蔚喂未萎蟽蔚喂蟼 蟿蠅谓 蠂伪蟻伪魏蟿萎蟻蠅谓.
螚 蟽蠀谓慰位喂魏萎 蔚蟺委未蟻伪蟽畏 蔚委谓伪喂 喂蟽蠂蠀蟻萎 魏伪喂 畏 位蠀蟻喂魏萎 蟺蔚味慰纬蟻伪蠁委伪 蟿畏蟼 Virginia Woolf 渭伪蟼 味蠅纬蟻伪蠁委味蔚喂 渭蔚 蟺慰位位维 蠂蟻蠋渭伪蟿伪 位苇尉蔚蠅谓 苇谓伪 蟺慰位蠉 蟺蟻慰蟽蠅蟺喂魏蠈 蟺慰蟻蟿蟻苇蟿慰 味蠅萎蟼.
螝伪位萎 伪谓维纬谓蠅蟽畏.
螤慰位位慰蠉蟼 伪蟽蟺伪蟽渭慰蠉蟼.
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