Mrs Dalloway

It's Heather here :)
Here’s my review for Mrs Dalloway! I don’t want to spoil the plot since I’m in the process of begging most of my friends to pick up a Woolf book so I can venerate her books with other people so apologies if it is a little vague (and please leave me a comment if you’ve read, or are intending on reading, any of her literature). As I write this, I am listening to a voice clip of Woolf’s on Wikipedia – am I the only one that’s been oblivious to Wikipedia’s mystical powers of putting voice clips in their articles?

Author: Virginia Woolf

Published: May 1925

Publisher: Hogarth Press

This book pans through a day in the Post First World War society and is set around some characters, most of which attend Clarissa Dalloway’s party; including Septimus, a veteran suffering from severe shell-shock causing hallucinations, his wife Lucrezia, Richard Dalloway, Elizabeth Dalloway, the wistful Peter Walsh, Sally and, of course, the hostess herself - Clarissa. That (very brief) summary really does the book no justice, like most of Woolf’s works, the ponderings that most authors dismiss in their writing are her main focus as she utilises the stream of consciousness method. I found reading this book effortless, like chatting to an endearing and close friend or even peering into one’s own head (hopefully not literally), yet the narrative is still eloquent and thoughtful; a perceptive style indeed.

Due to the title, I feel inclined to talk about Clarrisa and the conundrum she is in about love. Clarissa is the typical human; she regrets, she judges others a little (or a lot in the case of poor Mrs Kilman!) and whilst appearing ebullient, she is deeply self-conscious and is consistently picking at ways to improve herself. She is startled by the reappearance of Peter, the man she rejected for her husband, and takes a while to decipher whether she was feeling a pang of relief or remorse at her past refusal for him. Though flawed with moments of critical thoughts, Clarissa is generally a rather nice person who spends more time admiring others. When we enter Peter’s world, we learn that he is consumed with spiteful criticisms of nearly everybody he interacts with; as the reader, we have to decide whether he’s always been so vindicated or if this attitude is a defence mechanism that has sprung to life from the rejection of his true love and if this is forgivable.

Being familiarised with Woolf’s life certainly makes this a fascinating read. The shell-shock that Septimus experiences was unbelievably intriguing to read; especially since our class at school have been studying Regeneration (another excellent book), so to get in the head of someone with shell-shock was remarkable. Woolf herself had suffered from mental illnesses that have been speculated on considerably in many of her biographies, which I would highly recommend reading, this state of extreme depression did sadly lead to her suicide. Her own familiarity with depression and hallucinations make her descriptions from Septimus vivid and chilling.

I flicked to a random page and selected this extract just or reiterate how beautifully she writes (Shani called me a book snob today, which is probably true… but this type of literature is so underrated):

“There was nobody. Her words faded. So a rocket fades. Its sparks, having grazed their way into the night, surrender to it, dark descends, pours over the outlines of houses and towers; bleak-hill-sides soften and fall in.” – extract from Page 27

There is no particular moment which is outstanding because the entire book is a masterpiece, the language seems to flow from her pen in a way I think we all yearn was as effortless for ourselves. Just look at the word ‘grazed’, I’m probably rambling too much here but that is such a lovely choice of word. She could have just said that ‘they felt isolated’ or something simple like that but instead she added that stunning comparison as words fade – not in a PowerPoint effects style, but the way a rocket would scrape the sky to surrender and then fade out in that subtly powerful manner. This kind of imagery is smothered throughout the narratives, making it equally effortless for the reader to comprehend exactly what she wants them to visualise. It’s like reading a picture book but with thoughts and doodles and every little detail one could possibly hold an inkling of inquisitively to see.

Personally, I preferred To The Lighthouse to Mrs Dalloway, but my judgement is probably tainted by the fact To The Lighthouse was both my chosen coursework novel and first encounter with Woolf. This book is considerably darker, the deaths are not modestly placed between polite brackets, but discussed through the mouths and minds of others. If you have not read Woolf before then read both! I cannot guarantee that her style will be as enchanting for everybody, but I think it’s probably a love it or hate it type of thing. Anyway, that's it for this review, please do leave a comment if you would like to, and I'll be back soon with a review for Birdsong.